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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3248-0.txt b/3248-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f946a14 --- /dev/null +++ b/3248-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5831 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sky Pilot, by Ralph Connor + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Sky Pilot + +Author: Ralph Connor + +Release Date: March 1, 2001 [eBook #3248] +[Most recently updated: March 4, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Donald Lainson and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY PILOT *** + + + + +THE SKY PILOT + +A TALE OF THE FOOTHILLS + + +By Ralph Connor + + + + +PREFACE + + +The measure of a man's power to help his brother is the measure of the +love in the heart of him and of the faith he has that at last the good +will win. With this love that seeks not its own and this faith that +grips the heart of things, he goes out to meet many fortunes, but not +that of defeat. + +This story is of the people of the Foothill Country; of those men of +adventurous spirit, who left homes of comfort, often of luxury, because +of the stirring in them to be and to do some worthy thing; and of those +others who, outcast from their kind, sought to find in these valleys, +remote and lonely, a spot where they could forget and be forgotten. + +The waving skyline of the Foothills was the boundary of their lookout +upon life. Here they dwelt safe from the scanning of the world, freed +from all restraints of social law, denied the gentler influences of home +and the sweet uplift of a good woman's face. What wonder if, with the +new freedom beating in their hearts and ears, some rode fierce and hard +the wild trail to the cut-bank of destruction! + +The story is, too, of how a man with vision beyond the waving skyline +came to them with firm purpose to play the brother's part, and by sheer +love of them and by faith in them, win them to believe that life is +priceless, and that it is good to be a man. + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I. The Foothills Country + +II. The Company of the Noble Seven + +III. The Coming of the Pilot + +IV. The Pilot's Measure + +V. First Blood + +VI. His Second Wind + +VII. The Last of the Permit Sundays + +VIII. The Pilot's Grip + +IX. Gwen + +X. Gwen's First Prayers + +XI. Gwen's Challenge + +XII. Gwen's Canyon + +XIII. The Canyon Flowers + +XIV. Bill's Bluff + +XV. Bill's Partner + +XVI. Bill's Financing + +XVII. How the Pinto Sold + +XVIII. The Lady Charlotte + +XIX. Through Gwen's Window + +XX. How Bill Favored “Home-Grown Industries” + +XXI. How Bill Hit the Trail + +XXII. How the Swan Creek Church was Opened + +XXIII. The Pilot's Last Port + + + + +THE SKY PILOT + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FOOTHILLS COUNTRY + + +Beyond the great prairies and in the shadow of the Rockies lie the +Foothills. For nine hundred miles the prairies spread themselves out in +vast level reaches, and then begin to climb over softly rounded mounds +that ever grow higher and sharper till, here and there, they break +into jagged points and at last rest upon the great bases of the mighty +mountains. These rounded hills that join the prairies to the mountains +form the Foothill Country. They extend for about a hundred miles only, +but no other hundred miles of the great West are so full of interest +and romance. The natural features of the country combine the beauties +of prairie and of mountain scenery. There are valleys so wide that the +farther side melts into the horizon, and uplands so vast as to suggest +the unbroken prairie. Nearer the mountains the valleys dip deep and ever +deeper till they narrow into canyons through which mountain torrents +pour their blue-gray waters from glaciers that lie glistening between +the white peaks far away. Here are the great ranges on which feed herds +of cattle and horses. Here are the homes of the ranchmen, in whose wild, +free, lonely existence there mingles much of the tragedy and comedy, the +humor and pathos, that go to make up the romance of life. Among them are +to be found the most enterprising, the most daring, of the peoples of +the old lands. The broken, the outcast, the disappointed, these too +have found their way to the ranches among the Foothills. A country it is +whose sunlit hills and shaded valleys reflect themselves in the lives +of its people; for nowhere are the contrasts of light and shade more +vividly seen than in the homes of the ranchmen of the Albertas. + +The experiences of my life have confirmed in me the orthodox conviction +that Providence sends his rain upon the evil as upon the good; else I +should never have set my eyes upon the Foothill country, nor touched its +strangely fascinating life, nor come to know and love the most striking +man of all that group of striking men of the Foothill country--the dear +old Pilot, as we came to call him long afterwards. My first year in +college closed in gloom. My guardian was in despair. From this distance +of years I pity him. Then I considered him unnecessarily concerned about +me--“a fussy old hen,” as one of the boys suggested. The invitation from +Jack Dale, a distant cousin, to spend a summer with him on his ranch in +South Alberta came in the nick of time. I was wild to go. My guardian +hesitated long; but no other solution of the problem of my disposal +offering, he finally agreed that I could not well get into more trouble +by going than by staying. Hence it was that, in the early summer of +one of the eighties, I found myself attached to a Hudson's Bay Company +freight train, making our way from a little railway town in Montana +towards the Canadian boundary. Our train consisted of six wagons +and fourteen yoke of oxen, with three cayuses, in charge of a French +half-breed and his son, a lad of about sixteen. We made slow enough +progress, but every hour of the long day, from the dim, gray, misty +light of dawn to the soft glow of shadowy evening, was full of new +delights to me. On the evening of the third day we reached the Line +Stopping Place, where Jack Dale met us. I remember well how my heart +beat with admiration of the easy grace with which he sailed down upon +us in the loose-jointed cowboy style, swinging his own bronco and the +little cayuse he was leading for me into the circle of the wagons, +careless of ropes and freight and other impedimenta. He flung himself +off before his bronco had come to a stop, and gave me a grip that made +me sure of my welcome. It was years since he had seen a man from home, +and the eager joy in his eyes told of long days and nights of lonely +yearning for the old days and the old faces. I came to understand this +better after my two years' stay among these hills that have a strange +power on some days to waken in a man longings that make his heart grow +sick. When supper was over we gathered about the little fire, while Jack +and the half-breed smoked and talked. I lay on my back looking up at the +pale, steady stars in the deep blue of the cloudless sky, and listened +in fullness of contented delight to the chat between Jack and the +driver. Now and then I asked a question, but not too often. It is +a listening silence that draws tales from a western man, not vexing +questions. This much I had learned already from my three days' travel. +So I lay and listened, and the tales of that night are mingled with the +warm evening lights and the pale stars and the thoughts of home that +Jack's coming seemed to bring. + +Next morning before sun-up we had broken camp and were ready for our +fifty-mile ride. There was a slight drizzle of rain and, though rain and +shine were alike to him, Jack insisted that I should wear my mackintosh. +This garment was quite new and had a loose cape which rustled as I moved +toward my cayuse. He was an ugly-looking little animal, with more white +in his eye than I cared to see. Altogether, I did not draw toward him. +Nor did he to me, apparently. For as I took him by the bridle he snorted +and sidled about with great swiftness, and stood facing me with his feet +planted firmly in front of him as if prepared to reject overtures of +any kind soever. I tried to approach him with soothing words, but he +persistently backed away until we stood looking at each other at the +utmost distance of his outstretched neck and my outstretched arm. At +this point Jack came to my assistance, got the pony by the other side of +the bridle, and held him fast till I got into position to mount. Taking +a firm grip of the horn of the Mexican saddle, I threw my leg over his +back. The next instant I was flying over his head. My only emotion was +one of surprise, the thing was so unexpected. I had fancied myself a +fair rider, having had experience of farmers' colts of divers kinds, but +this was something quite new. The half-breed stood looking on, mildly +interested; Jack was smiling, but the boy was grinning with delight. + +“I'll take the little beast,” said Jack. But the grinning boy braced me +up and I replied as carelessly as my shaking voice would allow: + +“Oh, I guess I'll manage him,” and once more got into position. But no +sooner had I got into the saddle than the pony sprang straight up into +the air and lit with his back curved into a bow, his four legs gathered +together and so absolutely rigid that the shock made my teeth rattle. +It was my first experience of “bucking.” Then the little brute went +seriously to work to get rid of the rustling, flapping thing on his +back. He would back steadily for some seconds, then, with two or three +forward plunges, he would stop as if shot and spring straight into the +upper air, lighting with back curved and legs rigid as iron. Then he +would walk on his hind legs for a few steps, then throw himself with +amazing rapidity to one side and again proceed to buck with vicious +diligence. + +“Stick to him!” yelled Jack, through his shouts of laughter. “You'll +make him sick before long.” + +I remember thinking that unless his insides were somewhat more +delicately organized than his external appearance would lead one to +suppose the chances were that the little brute would be the last to +succumb to sickness. To make matters worse, a wilder jump than ordinary +threw my cape up over my head, so that I was in complete darkness. And +now he had me at his mercy, and he knew no pity. He kicked and plunged +and reared and bucked, now on his front legs, now on his hind legs, +often on his knees, while I, in the darkness, could only cling to +the horn of the saddle. At last, in one of the gleams of light that +penetrated the folds of my enveloping cape, I found that the horn had +slipped to his side, so the next time he came to his knees I threw +myself off. I am anxious to make this point clear, for, from the +expression of triumph on the face of the grinning boy, and his encomiums +of the pony, I gathered that he scored a win for the cayuse. Without +pause that little brute continued for some seconds to buck and plunge +even after my dismounting, as if he were some piece of mechanism that +must run down before it could stop. + +By this time I was sick enough and badly shaken in my nerve, but the +triumphant shouts and laughter of the boy and the complacent smiles on +the faces of Jack and the half-breed stirred my wrath. I tore off the +cape and, having got the saddle put right, seized Jack's riding whip +and, disregarding his remonstrances, sprang on my steed once more, and +before he could make up his mind as to his line of action plied him so +vigorously with the rawhide that he set off over the prairie at full +gallop, and in a few minutes came round to the camp quite subdued, to +the boy's great disappointment and to my own great surprise. Jack +was highly pleased, and even the stolid face of the half-breed showed +satisfaction. + +“Don't think I put this up on you,” Jack said. “It was that cape. He +ain't used to such frills. But it was a circus,” he added, going off +into a fit of laughter, “worth five dollars any day.” + +“You bet!” said the half-breed. “Dat's make pretty beeg fun, eh?” + +It seemed to me that it depended somewhat upon the point of view, but I +merely agreed with him, only too glad to be so well out of the fight. + +All day we followed the trail that wound along the shoulders of the +round-topped hills or down their long slopes into the wide, grassy +valleys. Here and there the valleys were cut through by coulees through +which ran swift, blue-gray rivers, clear and icy cold, while from the +hilltops we caught glimpses of little lakes covered with wild-fowl that +shrieked and squawked and splashed, careless of danger. Now and then we +saw what made a black spot against the green of the prairie, and Jack +told me it was a rancher's shack. How remote from the great world, and +how lonely it seemed!--this little black shack among these multitudinous +hills. + +I shall never forget the summer evening when Jack and I rode into +Swan Creek. I say into--but the village was almost entirely one of +imagination, in that it consisted of the Stopping Place, a long log +building, a story and a half high, with stables behind, and the store in +which the post-office was kept and over which the owner dwelt. But the +situation was one of great beauty. On one side the prairie rambled down +from the hills and then stretched away in tawny levels into the misty +purple at the horizon; on the other it clambered over the round, sunny +tops to the dim blue of the mountains beyond. + +In this world, where it is impossible to reach absolute values, we are +forced to hold things relatively, and in contrast with the long, +lonely miles of our ride during the day these two houses, with their +outbuildings, seemed a center of life. Some horses were tied to the rail +that ran along in front of the Stopping Place. + +“Hello!” said Jack, “I guess the Noble Seven are in town.” + +“And who are they?” I asked. + +“Oh,” he replied, with a shrug, “they are the elite Of Swan Creek; and +by Jove,” he added, “this must be a Permit Night.” + +“What does that mean?” I asked, as we rode up towards the tie rail. + +“Well,” said Jack, in a low tone, for some men were standing about the +door, “you see, this is a prohibition country, but when one of the boys +feels as if he were going to have a spell of sickness he gets a permit +to bring in a few gallons for medicinal purposes; and of course, the +other boys being similarly exposed, he invites them to assist him in +taking preventive measures. And,” added Jack, with a solemn wink, “it is +remarkable, in a healthy country like this, how many epidemics come near +ketching us.” + +And with this mystifying explanation we joined the mysterious company of +the Noble Seven. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE COMPANY OF THE NOBLE SEVEN + + +As we were dismounting, the cries, “Hello, Jack!” “How do, Dale?” + “Hello, old Smoke!” in the heartiest of tones, made me see that my +cousin was a favorite with the men grouped about the door. Jack simply +nodded in reply and then presented me in due form. “My tenderfoot cousin +from the effete,” he said, with a flourish. I was surprised at the grace +of the bows made me by these roughly-dressed, wild-looking fellows. I +might have been in a London drawing-room. I was put at my ease at once +by the kindliness of their greeting, for, upon Jack's introduction, +I was admitted at once into their circle, which, to a tenderfoot, was +usually closed. + +What a hardy-looking lot they were! Brown, spare, sinewy and hard as +nails, they appeared like soldiers back from a hard campaign. They moved +and spoke with an easy, careless air of almost lazy indifference, +but their eyes had a trick of looking straight out at you, cool and +fearless, and you felt they were fit and ready. + +That night I was initiated into the Company of the Noble Seven--but of +the ceremony I regret to say I retain but an indistinct memory; for they +drank as they rode, hard and long, and it was only Jack's care that got +me safely home that night. + +The Company of the Noble Seven was the dominant social force in the Swan +Creek country. Indeed, it was the only social force Swan Creek knew. +Originally consisting of seven young fellows of the best blood of +Britain, “banded together for purposes of mutual improvement and social +enjoyment,” it had changed its character during the years, but not +its name. First, its membership was extended to include “approved +colonials,” such as Jack Dale and “others of kindred spirit,” under +which head, I suppose, the two cowboys from the Ashley Ranch, Hi Keadal +and “Bronco” Bill--no one knew and no one asked his other name--were +admitted. Then its purposes gradually limited themselves to those of a +social nature, chiefly in the line of poker-playing and whisky-drinking. +Well born and delicately bred in that atmosphere of culture mingled with +a sturdy common sense and a certain high chivalry which surrounds the +stately homes of Britain, these young lads, freed from the restraints +of custom and surrounding, soon shed all that was superficial in their +make-up and stood forth in the naked simplicity of their native manhood. +The West discovered and revealed the man in them, sometimes to their +honor, often to their shame. The Chief of the Company was the Hon. Fred +Ashley, of the Ashley Ranch, sometime of Ashley Court, England--a big, +good-natured man with a magnificent physique, a good income from home, +and a beautiful wife, the Lady Charlotte, daughter of a noble English +family. At the Ashley Ranch the traditions of Ashley Court were +preserved as far as possible. The Hon. Fred appeared at the wolf-hunts +in riding-breeches and top boots, with hunting crop and English saddle, +while in all the appointments of the house the customs of the English +home were observed. It was characteristic, however, of western life that +his two cowboys, Hi Kendal and Bronco Bill, felt themselves quite his +social equals, though in the presence of his beautiful, stately wife +they confessed that they “rather weakened.” Ashley was a thoroughly good +fellow, well up to his work as a cattle-man, and too much of a gentleman +to feel, much less assert, any superiority of station. He had the +largest ranch in the country and was one of the few men making money. + +Ashley's chief friend, or, at least, most frequent companion, was a man +whom they called “The Duke.” No one knew his name, but every one said +he was “the son of a lord,” and certainly from his style and bearing +he might be the son of almost anything that was high enough in rank. He +drew “a remittance,” but, as that was paid through Ashley, no one knew +whence it came nor how much it was. He was a perfect picture of a man, +and in all western virtues was easily first. He could rope a steer, +bunch cattle, play poker or drink whisky to the admiration of his +friends and the confusion of his foes, of whom he had a few; while as to +“bronco busting,” the virtue par excellence of western cattle-men, even +Bronco Bill was heard to acknowledge that “he wasn't in it with the +Dook, for it was his opinion that he could ride anythin' that had legs +in under it, even if it was a blanked centipede.” And this, coming from +one who made a profession of “bronco busting,” was unquestionably high +praise. The Duke lived alone, except when he deigned to pay a visit +to some lonely rancher who, for the marvellous charm of his talk, was +delighted to have him as guest, even at the expense of the loss of a few +games at poker. He made a friend of no one, though some men could tell +of times when he stood between them and their last dollar, exacting only +the promise that no mention should be made of his deed. He had an easy, +lazy manner and a slow cynical smile that rarely left his face, and the +only sign of deepening passion in him was a little broadening of his +smile. Old Latour, who kept the Stopping Place, told me how once The +Duke had broken into a gentle laugh. A French half-breed freighter on +his way north had entered into a game of poker with The Duke, with the +result that his six months' pay stood in a little heap at his enemy's +left hand. The enraged freighter accused his smiling opponent of being a +cheat, and was proceeding to demolish him with one mighty blow. But +The Duke, still smiling, and without moving from his chair, caught the +descending fist, slowly crushed the fingers open, and steadily drew the +Frenchman to his knees, gripping him so cruelly in the meantime that he +was forced to cry aloud in agony for mercy. Then it was that The Duke +broke into a light laugh and, touching the kneeling Frenchman on his +cheek with his finger-tips, said: “Look here, my man, you shouldn't +play the game till you know how to do it and with whom you play.” Then, +handing him back the money, he added: “I want money, but not yours.” + Then, as he sat looking at the unfortunate wretch dividing his attention +between his money and his bleeding fingers, he once more broke into a +gentle laugh that was not good to hear. + +The Duke was by all odds the most striking figure in the Company of +the Noble Seven, and his word went farther than that of any other. +His shadow was Bruce, an Edinburgh University man, metaphysical, +argumentative, persistent, devoted to The Duke. Indeed, his chief +ambition was to attain to The Duke's high and lordly manner; but, +inasmuch as he was rather squat in figure and had an open, good-natured +face and a Scotch voice of the hard and rasping kind, his attempts at +imitation were not conspicuously successful. Every mail that reached +Swan Creek brought him a letter from home. At first, after I had got +to know him, he would give me now and then a letter to read, but as the +tone became more and more anxious he ceased to let me read them, and I +was glad enough of this. How he could read those letters and go the pace +of the Noble Seven I could not see. Poor Bruce! He had good impulses, a +generous heart, but the “Permit” nights and the hunts and the “roundups” + and the poker and all the wild excesses of the Company were more than he +could stand. + +Then there were the two Hill brothers, the younger, Bertie, a +fair-haired, bright-faced youngster, none too able to look after +himself, but much inclined to follies of all degrees and sorts. But +he was warm-hearted and devoted to his big brother, Humphrey, called +“Hump,” who had taken to ranching mainly with the idea of looking after +his younger brother. And no easy matter that was, for every one liked +the lad and in consequence helped him down. + +In addition to these there were two others of the original seven, but by +force of circumstances they were prevented from any more than a nominal +connection with the Company. Blake, a typical wild Irishman, had joined +the police at the Fort, and Gifford had got married and, as Bill said, +“was roped tighter'n a steer.” + +The Noble Company, with the cowboys that helped on the range and two or +three farmers that lived nearer the Fort, composed the settlers of the +Swan Creek country. A strange medley of people of all ranks and nations, +but while among them there were the evil-hearted and evil-living, still, +for the Noble Company I will say that never have I fallen in with men +braver, truer, or of warmer heart. Vices they had, all too apparent and +deadly, but they were due rather to the circumstances of their lives +than to the native tendencies of their hearts. Throughout that summer +and the winter following I lived among them, camping on the range with +them and sleeping in their shacks, bunching cattle in summer and hunting +wolves in winter, nor did I, for I was no wiser than they, refuse my +part on “Permit” nights; but through all not a man of them ever failed +to be true to his standard of honor in the duties of comradeship and +brotherhood. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE COMING OF THE PILOT + + +He was the first missionary ever seen in the country, and it was the Old +Timer who named him. The Old Timer's advent to the Foothill country +was prehistoric, and his influence was, in consequence, immense. No one +ventured to disagree with him, for to disagree with the Old Timer was to +write yourself down a tenderfoot, which no one, of course, cared to do. +It was a misfortune which only time could repair to be a new-comer, and +it was every new-comer's aim to assume with all possible speed the style +and customs of the aristocratic Old Timers, and to forget as soon as +possible the date of his own arrival. So it was as “The Sky Pilot,” + familiarly “The Pilot,” that the missionary went for many a day in the +Swan Creek country. + +I had become schoolmaster of Swan Creek. For in the spring a kind +Providence sent in the Muirs and the Bremans with housefuls of +children, to the ranchers' disgust, for they foresaw ploughed fields +and barbed-wire fences cramping their unlimited ranges. A school +became necessary. A little log building was erected and I was appointed +schoolmaster. It was as schoolmaster that I first came to touch The +Pilot, for the letter which the Hudson Bay freighters brought me early +one summer evening bore the inscription: + + + The Schoolmaster, + Public School, + Swan Creek, + Alberta. + + +There was altogether a fine air about the letter; the writing was in +fine, small hand, the tone was fine, and there was something fine in the +signature--“Arthur Wellington Moore.” He was glad to know that there was +a school and a teacher in Swan Creek, for a school meant children, in +whom his soul delighted; and in the teacher he would find a friend, +and without a friend he could not live. He took me into his confidence, +telling me that though he had volunteered for this far-away mission +field he was not much of a preacher and he was not at all sure that he +would succeed. But he meant to try, and he was charmed at the prospect +of having one sympathizer at least. Would I be kind enough to put up in +some conspicuous place the enclosed notice, filling in the blanks as I +thought best? + + + “Divine service will be held at Swan creek + in ---- ----- at ---- o'clock. + All are cordially invited. + Arthur Wellington Moore.” + + +On the whole I liked his letter. I liked its modest self-depreciation +and I liked its cool assumption of my sympathy and co-operation. But I +was perplexed. I remembered that Sunday was the day fixed for the great +baseball match, when those from “Home,” as they fondly called the land +across the sea from which they had come, were to “wipe the earth” with +all comers. Besides, “Divine service” was an innovation in Swan Creek +and I felt sure that, like all innovations that suggested the approach +of the East, it would be by no means welcome. + +However, immediately under the notice of the “Grand Baseball Match for +'The Pain Killer' a week from Sunday, at 2:30, Home vs. the World,” I +pinned on the door of the Stopping Place the announcement: + + +“Divine service will be held at Swan Creek, in the Stopping Place +Parlor, a week from Sunday, immediately upon the conclusion of the +baseball match. + +“Arthur Wellington Moore.” + + +There was a strange incongruity in the two, and an unconscious challenge +as well. + +All next day, which was Saturday, and, indeed, during the following +week, I stood guard over my notice, enjoying the excitement it produced +and the comments it called forth. It was the advance wave of the +great ocean of civilization which many of them had been glad to leave +behind--some could have wished forever. + +To Robert Muir, one of the farmers newly arrived, the notice was a +harbinger of good. It stood for progress, markets and a higher price +for land; albeit he wondered “hoo he wad be keepit up.” But his +hard-wrought, quick-spoken little wife at his elbow “hooted” his +scruples and, thinking of her growing lads, welcomed with unmixed +satisfaction the coming of “the meenister.” Her satisfaction was shared +by all the mothers and most of the fathers in the settlement; but by the +others, and especially by that rollicking, roistering crew, the Company +of the Noble Seven, the missionary's coming was viewed with varying +degrees of animosity. It meant a limitation of freedom in their wildly +reckless living. The “Permit” nights would now, to say the least, be +subject to criticism; the Sunday wolf-hunts and horse-races, with their +attendant delights, would now be pursued under the eye of the Church, +and this would not add to the enjoyment of them. One great charm of the +country, which Bruce, himself the son of an Edinburgh minister, and now +Secretary of the Noble Seven, described as “letting a fellow do as he +blanked pleased,” would be gone. None resented more bitterly than he the +missionary's intrusion, which he declared to be an attempt “to +reimpose upon their freedom the trammels of an antiquated and bigoted +conventionality.” But the rest of the Company, while not taking +so decided a stand, were agreed that the establishment of a church +institution was an objectionable and impertinent as well as unnecessary +proceeding. + +Of course, Hi Kendal and his friend Bronco Bill had no opinion one way +or the other. The Church could hardly affect them even remotely. A dozen +years' stay in Montana had proved with sufficient clearness to them that +a church was a luxury of civilization the West might well do without. + +Outside the Company of the Noble Seven there was only one whose opinion +had value in Swan Creek, and that was the Old Timer. The Company had +sought to bring him in by making him an honorary member, but he refused +to be drawn from his home far up among the hills, where he lived with +his little girl Gwen and her old half-breed nurse, Ponka. The approach +of the church he seemed to resent as a personal injury. It represented +to him that civilization from which he had fled fifteen years ago with +his wife and baby girl, and when five years later he laid his wife in +the lonely grave that could be seen on the shaded knoll just fronting +his cabin door, the last link to his past was broken. From all that +suggested the great world beyond the run of the Prairie he shrank as one +shrinks from a sudden touch upon an old wound. + +“I guess I'll have to move back,” he said to me gloomily. + +“Why?” I said in surprise, thinking of his grazing range, which was +ample for his herd. + +“This blank Sky Pilot.” He never swore except when unusually moved. + +“Sky Pilot?” I inquired. + +He nodded and silently pointed to the notice. + +“Oh, well, he won't hurt you, will he?” + +“Can't stand it,” he answered savagely, “must get away.” + +“What about Gwen?” I ventured, for she was the light of his eyes. “Pity +to stop her studies.” I was giving her weekly lessons at the old man's +ranch. + +“Dunno. Ain't figgered out yet about that baby.” She was still his baby. +“Guess she's all she wants for the Foothills, anyway. What's the use?” + he added, bitterly, talking to himself after the manner of men who live +much alone. + +I waited for a moment, then said: “Well, I wouldn't hurry about doing +anything,” knowing well that the one thing an old-timer hates to do is +to make any change in his mode of life. “Maybe he won't stay.” + +He caught at this eagerly. “That's so! There ain't much to keep him, +anyway,” and he rode off to his lonely ranch far up in the hills. + +I looked after the swaying figure and tried to picture his past with its +tragedy; then I found myself wondering how he would end and what would +come to his little girl. And I made up my mind that if the missionary +were the right sort his coming might not be a bad thing for the Old +Timer and perhaps for more than him. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PILOT'S MEASURE + + +It was Hi Kendal that announced the arrival of the missionary. I was +standing at the door of my school, watching the children ride off +home on their ponies, when Hi came loping along on his bronco in the +loose-jointed cowboy style. + +“Well,” he drawled out, bringing his bronco to a dead stop in a single +bound, “he's lit.” + +“Lit? Where? What?” said I, looking round for an eagle or some other +flying thing. + +“Your blanked Sky Pilot, and he's a beauty, a pretty kid--looks too +tender for this climate. Better not let him out on the range.” Hi was +quite disgusted, evidently. + +“What's the matter with him, Hi?” + +“Why, HE ain't no parson! I don't go much on parsons, but when I calls +for one I don't want no bantam chicken. No, sirree, horse! I don't want +no blankety-blank, pink-and-white complected nursery kid foolin' round +my graveyard. If you're goin' to bring along a parson, why bring him +with his eye-teeth cut and his tail feathers on.” + +That Hi was deeply disappointed was quite clear from the selection of +the profanity with which he adorned this lengthy address. It was +never the extent of his profanity, but the choice, that indicated Hi's +interest in any subject. + +Altogether, the outlook for the missionary was not encouraging. With +the single exception of the Muirs, who really counted for little, nobody +wanted him. To most of the reckless young bloods of the Company of the +Noble Seven his presence was an offence; to others simply a nuisance, +while the Old Timer regarded his advent with something like dismay; and +now Hi's impression of his personal appearance was not cheering. + +My first sight of him did not reassure me. He was very slight, very +young, very innocent, with a face that might do for an angel, except for +the touch of humor in it, but which seemed strangely out of place among +the rough, hard faces that were to be seen in the Swan Creek Country. +It was not a weak face, however. The forehead was high and square, the +mouth firm, and the eyes were luminous, of some dark color--violet, if +there is such a color in eyes--dreamy or sparkling, according to +his mood; eyes for which a woman might find use, but which, in a +missionary's head, appeared to me one of those extraordinary wastes of +which Nature is sometimes guilty. + +He was gazing far away into space infinitely beyond the Foothills and +the blue line of the mountains behind them. He turned to me as I drew +near, with eyes alight and face glowing. + +“It is glorious,” he almost panted. “You see this everyday!” Then, +recalling himself, he came eagerly toward me, stretching out his hand. +“You are the schoolmaster, I know. Do you know, it's a great thing? I +wanted to be one, but I never could get the boys on. They always got +me telling them tales. I was awfully disappointed. I am trying the next +best thing. You see, I won't have to keep order, but I don't think I +can preach very well. I am going to visit your school. Have you many +scholars? Do you know, I think it's splendid? I wish I could do it.” + +I had intended to be somewhat stiff with him, but his evident admiration +of me made me quite forget this laudable intention, and, as he talked +on without waiting for an answer, his enthusiasm, his deference to my +opinion, his charm of manner, his beautiful face, his luminous eyes, +made him perfectly irresistible; and before I was aware I was listening +to his plans for working his mission with eager interest. So eager was +my interest, indeed, that before I was aware I found myself asking him +to tea with me in my shack. But he declined, saying: + +“I'd like to, awfully; but do you know, I think Latour expects me.” + +This consideration of Latour's feelings almost upset me. + +“You come with me,” he added, and I went. + +Latour welcomed us with his grim old face wreathed in unusual smiles. +The pilot had been talking to him, too. + +“I've got it, Latour!” he cried out as he entered; “here you are,” + and he broke into the beautiful French-Canadian chanson, “A la Claire +Fontaine,” to the old half-breed's almost tearful delight. + +“Do you know,” he went on, “I heard that first down the Mattawa,” + and away he went into a story of an experience with French-Canadian +raftsmen, mixing up his French and English in so charming a manner that +Latour; who in his younger days long ago had been a shantyman himself, +hardly knew whether he was standing on his head or on his heels. + +After tea I proposed a ride out to see the sunset from the nearest +rising ground. Latour, with unexampled generosity, offered his own +cayuse, “Louis.” + +“I can't ride well,” protested The Pilot. + +“Ah! dat's good ponee, Louis,” urged Latour. “He's quiet lak wan leetle +mouse; he's ride lak--what you call?--wan horse-on-de-rock.” Under which +persuasion the pony was accepted. + +That evening I saw the Swan Creek country with new eyes--through the +luminous eyes of The Pilot. We rode up the trail by the side of the Swan +till we came to the coulee mouth, dark and full of mystery. + +“Come on,” I said, “we must get to the top for the sunset.” + +He looked lingeringly into the deep shadows and asked: “Anything live +down there?” + +“Coyotes and wolves and ghosts.” + +“Ghosts?” he asked, delightedly. “Do you know, I was sure there were, +and I'm quite sure I shall see them.” + +Then we took the Porcupine trail and climbed for about two miles the +gentle slope to the top of the first rising ground. There we stayed and +watched the sun take his nightly plunge into the sea of mountains, now +dimly visible. Behind us stretched the prairie, sweeping out level to +the sky and cut by the winding coulee of the Swan. Great long shadows +from the hills were lying upon its yellow face, and far at the distant +edge the gray haze was deepening into purple. Before us lay the hills, +softly curving like the shoulders of great sleeping monsters, their tops +still bright, but the separating valleys full of shadow. And there, far +beyond them, up against the sky, was the line of the mountains--blue, +purple, and gold, according as the light fell upon them. The sun had +taken his plunge, but he had left behind him his robes of saffron and +gold. We stood long without a word or movement, filling our hearts with +the silence and the beauty, till the gold in the west began to grow dim. +High above all the night was stretching her star-pierced, blue canopy, +and drawing slowly up from the east over the prairie and over the +sleeping hills the soft folds of a purple haze. The great silence of the +dying day had fallen upon the world and held us fast. + +“Listen,” he said, in a low tone, pointing to the hills. “Can't you +hear them breathe?” And, looking at their curving shoulders, I fancied I +could see them slowly heaving as if in heavy sleep, and I was quite sure +I could hear them breathe. I was under the spell of his voice and his +eyes, and nature was all living to me then. + +We rode back to the Stopping Place in silence, except for a word of mine +now and then which he heeded not; and, with hardly a good night, he +left me at the door. I turned away feeling as if I had been in a strange +country and among strange people. + +How would he do with the Swan Creek folk? Could he make them see the +hills breathe? Would they feel as I felt under his voice and eyes? What +a curious mixture he was! I was doubtful about his first Sunday, and was +surprised to find all my indifference as to his success or failure gone. +It was a pity about the baseball match. I would speak to some of the men +about it to-morrow. + +Hi might be disappointed in his appearance, but, as I turned into my +shack and thought over my last two hours with The Pilot and how he had +“got” old Latour and myself, I began to think that Hi might be mistaken +in his measure of The Pilot. + + + +CHAPTER V + +FIRST BLOOD + + +One is never so enthusiastic in the early morning, when the emotions are +calmest and the nerves at their steadiest. But I was determined to try +to have the baseball match postponed. There could be no difficulty. One +day was as much of a holiday as another to these easy-going fellows. +But The Duke, when I suggested a change in the day, simply raised his +eyebrows an eighth of an inch and said: + +“Can't see why the day should be changed.” Bruce stormed and swore all +sorts of destruction upon himself if he was going to change his style of +life for any man. The others followed The Duke's lead. + +That Sunday was a day of incongruities. The Old and the New, the +East and the West, the reverential Past and iconoclastic Present were +jumbling themselves together in bewildering confusion. The baseball +match was played with much vigor and profanity. The expression on The +Pilot's face, as he stood watching for a while, was a curious mixture of +interest, surprise, doubt and pain. He was readjusting himself. He was +so made as to be extremely sensitive to his surroundings. He took on +color quickly. The utter indifference to the audacious disregard of all +he had hitherto considered sacred and essential was disconcerting. They +were all so dead sure. How did he know they were wrong? It was his first +near view of practical, living skepticism. Skepticism in a book did not +disturb him; he could put down words against it. But here it was alive, +cheerful, attractive, indeed fascinating; for these men in their western +garb and with their western swing had captured his imagination. He was +in a fierce struggle, and in a few minutes I saw him disappear into the +coulee. + +Meantime the match went uproariously on to a finish, with the result +that the champions of “Home” had “to stand The Painkiller,” their defeat +being due chiefly to the work of Hi and Bronco Bill as pitcher and +catcher. + +The celebration was in full swing; or as Hi put it, “the boys were +takin' their pizen good an' calm,” when in walked The Pilot. His face +was still troubled and his lips were drawn and blue, as if he were in +pain. A silence fell on the men as he walked in through the crowd and up +to the bar. He stood a moment hesitating, looking round upon the faces +flushed and hot that were now turned toward him in curious defiance. He +noticed the look, and it pulled him together. He faced about toward old +Latour and asked in a high, clear voice: + +“Is this the room you said we might have?” + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and said: + +“There is not any more.” + +The lad paused for an instant, but only for an instant. Then, lifting a +pile of hymn books he had near him on the counter, he said in a grave, +sweet voice, and with the quiver of a smile about his lips: + +“Gentlemen, Mr. Latour has allowed me this room for a religious service. +It will give me great pleasure if you will all join,” and immediately he +handed a book to Bronco Bill, who, surprised, took it as if he did not +know what to do with it. The others followed Bronco's lead till he came +to Bruce, who refused, saying roughly: + +“No! I don't want it; I've no use for it.” + +The missionary flushed and drew back as if he had been struck, but +immediately, as if unconsciously, The Duke, who was standing near, +stretched out his hand and said, with a courteous bow, “I thank you; I +should be glad of one.” + +“Thank you,” replied The Pilot, simply, as he handed him a book. The men +seated themselves upon the bench that ran round the room, or leaned up +against the counter, and most of them took off their hats. Just then in +came Muir, and behind him his little wife. + +In an instant The Duke was on his feet, and every hat came off. + +The missionary stood up at the bar, and announced the hymn, “Jesus, +Lover of My Soul.” The silence that followed was broken by the sound of +a horse galloping. A buckskin bronco shot past the window, and in a few +moments there appeared at the door the Old Timer. He was about to stride +in when the unusual sight of a row of men sitting solemnly with hymn +books in their hands held him fast at the door. He gazed in an amazed, +helpless way upon the men, then at the missionary, then back at the men, +and stood speechless. Suddenly there was a high, shrill, boyish laugh, +and the men turned to see the missionary in a fit of laughter. It +certainly was a shock to any lingering ideas of religious propriety they +might have about them; but the contrast between his frank, laughing face +and the amazed and disgusted face of the shaggy old man in the doorway +was too much for them, and one by one they gave way to roars of +laughter. The Old Timer, however, kept his face unmoved, strode up to +the bar and nodded to old Latour, who served him his drink, which he +took at a gulp. + +“Here, old man!” called out Bill, “get into the game; here's your deck,” + offering him his book. But the missionary was before him, and, with very +beautiful grace, he handed the Old Timer a book and pointed him to a +seat. + +I shall never forget that service. As a religious affair it was a dead +failure, but somehow I think The Pilot, as Hi approvingly said, “got in +his funny work,” and it was not wholly a defeat. The first hymn was sung +chiefly by the missionary and Mrs. Muir, whose voice was very high, with +one or two of the men softly whistling an accompaniment. The second hymn +was better, and then came the Lesson, the story of the feeding of the +five thousand. As the missionary finished the story, Bill, who had been +listening with great interest, said: + +“I say, pard, I think I'll call you just now.” + +“I beg your pardon!” said the startled missionary. + +“You're givin' us quite a song and dance now, ain't you?” + +“I don't understand,” was the puzzled reply. + +“How many men was there in the crowd?” asked Bill, with a judicial air. + +“Five thousand.” + +“And how much grub?” + +“Five loaves and two fishes,” answered Bruce for the missionary. + +“Well,” drawled Bill, with the air of a man who has reached a +conclusion, “that's a little too unusual for me. Why,” looking pityingly +at the missionary, “it ain't natarel.” + +“Right you are, my boy,” said Bruce, with a laugh. “It's deucedly +unnatural.” + +“Not for Him,” said the missionary, quietly. Then Bruce joyfully took +him up and led him on into a discussion of evidences, and from evidences +into metaphysics, the origin of evil and the freedom of the will, till +the missionary, as Bill said, “was rattled worse nor a rooster in the +dark.” Poor little Mrs. Muir was much scandalized and looked anxiously +at her husband, wishing him to take her out. But help came from an +unexpected quarter, and Hi suddenly called out: + +“Here you, Bill, shut your blanked jaw, and you, Bruce, give the man a +chance to work off his music.” + +“That's so! Fair play! Go on!” were the cries that came in response to +Hi's appeal. + +The missionary, who was all trembling and much troubled, gave Hi a +grateful look, and said: + +“I'm afraid there are a great many things I don't understand, and I am +not good at argument.” There were shouts of “Go on! fire ahead, play the +game!” but he said, “I think we will close the service with a hymn.” His +frankness and modesty, and his respectful, courteous manner gained the +sympathy of the men, so that all joined heartily in singing, “Sun of My +Soul.” In the prayer that followed his voice grew steady and his nerve +came back to him. The words were very simple, and the petitions were +mostly for light and for strength. With a few words of remembrance of +“those in our homes far away who think of us and pray for us and never +forget,” this strange service was brought to a close. + +After the missionary had stepped out, the whole affair was discussed +with great warmth. Hi Kendal thought “The Pilot didn't have no fair +show,” maintaining that when he was “ropin' a steer he didn't want no +blanked tenderfoot to be shovin' in his rope like Bill there.” But Bill +steadily maintained his position that “the story of that there picnic +was a little too unusual” for him. Bruce was trying meanwhile to beguile +The Duke into a discussion of the physics and metaphysics of the case. +But The Duke refused with quiet contempt to be drawn into a region where +he felt himself a stranger. He preferred poker himself, if Bruce +cared to take a hand; and so the evening went on, with the theological +discussion by Hi and Bill in a judicial, friendly spirit in one corner, +while the others for the most part played poker. + +When the missionary returned late there were only a few left in the +room, among them The Duke and Bruce, who was drinking steadily and +losing money. The missionary's presence seemed to irritate him, and he +played even more recklessly than usual, swearing deeply at every loss. +At the door the missionary stood looking up into the night sky and +humming softly “Sun of My Soul,” and after a few minutes The Duke joined +in humming a bass to the air till Bruce could contain himself no longer. + +“I say,” he called out, “this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is it?” + +The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly: “Well, +what is it? What's the trouble?” + +“Trouble!” shouted Bruce. “I don't see what hymn-singing has to do with +a poker game.” + +“Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing?” said The Duke. Then after a +pause he added, “You're quite right. I say, Bruce, let's quit. Something +has got on to your nerves.” And coolly sweeping his pile into his +pocket, he gave up the game. With an oath Bruce left the table, took +another drink, and went unsteadily out to his horse, and soon we heard +him ride away into the darkness, singing snatches of the hymn and +swearing the most awful oaths. + +The missionary's face was white with horror. It was all new and horrible +to him. + +“Will he get safely home?” he asked of The Duke. + +“Don't you worry, youngster,” said The Duke, in his loftiest manner, +“he'll get along.” + +The luminous, dreamy eyes grew hard and bright as they looked The Duke +in the face. + +“Yes, I shall worry; but you ought to worry more.” + +“Ah!” said The Duke, raising his brows and smiling gently upon the +bright, stern young face lifted up to his. “I didn't notice that I had +asked your opinion.” + +“If anything should happen to him,” replied the missionary, quickly, “I +should consider you largely responsible.” + +“That would be kind,” said The Duke, still smiling with his lips. But +after a moment's steady look into the missionary's eyes he nodded his +head twice or thrice, and, without further word, turned away. + +The missionary turned eagerly to me: + +“They beat me this afternoon,” he cried, “but thank God, I know now +they are wrong and I am right! I don't understand! I can't see my way +through! But I am right! It's true! I feel it's true! Men can't live +without Him, and be men!” + +And long after I went to my shack that night I saw before me the eager +face with the luminous eyes and heard the triumphant cry: “I feel it's +true! Men can't live without Him, and be men!” and I knew that though +his first Sunday ended in defeat there was victory yet awaiting him. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HIS SECOND WIND + + +The first weeks were not pleasant for The Pilot. He had been beaten, and +the sense of failure damped his fine enthusiasm, which was one of his +chief charms. The Noble Seven despised, ignored, or laughed at him, +according to their mood and disposition. Bruce patronized him; and, +worst of all, the Muirs pitied him. This last it was that brought him +low, and I was glad of it. I find it hard to put up with a man that +enjoys pity. + +It was Hi Kendal that restored him, though Hi had no thought of doing +so good a deed. It was in this way: A baseball match was on with The +Porcupines from near the Fort. To Hi's disgust and the team's dismay +Bill failed to appear. It was Hi's delight to stand up for Bill's +pitching, and their battery was the glory of the Home team. + +“Try The Pilot, Hi,” said some one, chaffing him. + +Hi looked glumly across at The Pilot standing some distance, away; then +called out, holding up the ball: + +“Can you play the game?” + +For answer Moore held up his hands for a catch. Hi tossed him the ball +easily. The ball came back so quickly that Hi was hardly ready, and the +jar seemed to amaze him exceedingly. + +“I'll take him,” he said, doubtfully, and the game began. Hi fitted on +his mask, a new importation and his peculiar pride, and waited. + +“How do you like them?” asked The Pilot. + +“Hot!” said Hi. “I hain't got no gloves to burn.” + +The Pilot turned his back, swung off one foot on to the other and +discharged his ball. + +“Strike!” called the umpire. + +“You bet!” said Hi, with emphasis, but his face was a picture of +amazement and dawning delight. + +Again The Pilot went through the manoeuvre in his box and again the +umpire called: + +“Strike!” + +Hi stopped the ball without holding it and set himself for the third. +Once more that disconcerting swing and the whip-like action of the arm, +and for the third time the umpire called: + +“Strike! Striker out!” + +“That's the hole,” yelled Hi. + +The Porcupines were amazed. Hi looked at the ball in his hand, then at +the slight figure of The Pilot. + +“I say! where do you get it?” + +“What?” asked Moore innocently. + +“The gait!” + +“The what?” + +“The gait! the speed, you know!” + +“Oh! I used to play in Princeton a little.” + +“Did, eh? What the blank blank did you quit for?” + +He evidently regarded the exchange of the profession of baseball for the +study of theology as a serious error in judgment, and in this opinion +every inning of the game confirmed him. At the bat The Pilot did not +shine, but he made up for light hitting by his base-running. He was +fleet as a deer, and he knew the game thoroughly. He was keen, eager, +intense in play, and before the innings were half over he was recognized +as the best all-round man on the field. In the pitcher's box he puzzled +the Porcupines till they grew desperate and hit wildly and blindly, +amid the jeers of the spectators. The bewilderment of the Porcupines was +equaled only by the enthusiasm of Hi and his nine, and when the game was +over the score stood 37 to 7 in favor of the Home team. They carried The +Pilot off the field. + +From that day Moore was another man. He had won the unqualified respect +of Hi Kendal and most of the others, for he could beat them at their own +game and still be modest about it. Once more his enthusiasm came back +and his brightness and his courage. The Duke was not present to witness +his triumph, and, besides, he rather despised the game. Bruce was there, +however, but took no part in the general acclaim; indeed, he seemed +rather disgusted with Moore's sudden leap into favor. Certainly his +hostility to The Pilot and to all that he stood for was none the less +open and bitter. + +The hostility was more than usually marked at the service held on the +Sunday following. It was, perhaps, thrown into stronger relief by the +open and delighted approval of Hi, who was prepared to back up anything +The Pilot would venture to say. Bill, who had not witnessed The Pilot's +performance in the pitcher's box, but had only Hi's enthusiastic +report to go upon, still preserved his judicial air. It is fair to say, +however, that there was no mean-spirited jealousy in Bill's heart even +though Hi had frankly assured him that The Pilot was “a demon,” and +could “give him points.” Bill had great confidence in Hi's opinion upon +baseball, but he was not prepared to surrender his right of private +judgment in matters theological, so he waited for the sermon before +committing himself to any enthusiastic approval. This service was an +undoubted success. The singing was hearty, and insensibly the men fell +into a reverent attitude during prayer. The theme, too, was one that +gave little room for skepticism. It was the story of Zaccheus, and +story-telling was Moore's strong point. The thing was well done. +Vivid portraitures of the outcast, shrewd, converted publican and the +supercilious, self-complacent, critical Pharisee were drawn with a few +deft touches. A single sentence transferred them to the Foothills and +arrayed them in cowboy garb. Bill was none too sure of himself, but +Hi, with delightful winks, was indicating Bruce as the Pharisee, to the +latter's scornful disgust. The preacher must have noticed, for with a +very clever turn the Pharisee was shown to be the kind of man who likes +to fit faults upon others. Then Bill, digging his elbows into Hi's ribs, +said in an audible whisper: + +“Say, pardner, how does it fit now?” + +“You git out!” answered Hi, indignantly, but his confidence in his +interpretation of the application was shaken. When Moore came to +describe the Master and His place in that ancient group, we in the +Stopping Place parlor fell under the spell of his eyes and voice, and +our hearts were moved within us. That great Personality was made +very real and very winning. Hi was quite subdued by the story and the +picture. Bill was perplexed; it was all new to him; but Bruce was mainly +irritated. To him it was all old and filled with memories he hated to +face. At any rate he was unusually savage that evening, drank heavily +and went home late, raging and cursing at things in general and The +Pilot in particular--for Moore, in a timid sort of way, had tried to +quiet him and help him to his horse. + +“Ornery sort o' beast now, ain't he?” said Hi, with the idea of +comforting The Pilot, who stood sadly looking after Bruce disappearing +in the gloom. + +“No! no!” he answered, quickly, “not a beast, but a brother.” + +“Brother! Not much, if I know my relations!” answered Hi, disgustedly. + +“The Master thinks a good deal of him,” was the earnest reply. + +“Git out!” said Hi, “you don't mean it! Why,” he added, decidedly, “he's +more stuck on himself than that mean old cuss you was tellin' about this +afternoon, and without half the reason.” + +But Moore only said, kindly, “Don't be hard on him, Hi,” and turned +away, leaving Hi and Bill gravely discussing the question, with the aid +of several drinks of whisky. They were still discussing when, an hour +later, they, too, disappeared into the darkness that swallowed up the +trail to Ashley Ranch. That was the first of many such services. The +preaching was always of the simplest kind, abstract questions being +avoided and the concrete in those wonderful Bible tales, dressed in +modern and in western garb, set forth. Bill and Hi were more than +ever his friends and champions, and the latter was heard exultantly to +exclaim to Bruce: + +“He ain't much to look at as a parson, but he's a-ketchin' his second +wind, and 'fore long you won't see him for dust.” + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LAST OF THE PERMIT SUNDAYS + + +The spring “round-ups” were all over and Bruce had nothing to do but +to loaf about the Stopping Place, drinking old Latour's bad whisky and +making himself a nuisance. In vain The Pilot tried to win him with loans +of books and magazines and other kindly courtesies. He would be decent +for a day and then would break forth in violent argumentation against +religion and all who held to it. He sorely missed The Duke, who was away +south on one of his periodic journeys, of which no one knew anything +or cared to ask. The Duke's presence always steadied Bruce and took +the rasp out of his manners. It was rather a relief to all that he was +absent from the next fortnightly service, though Moore declared he was +ashamed to confess this relief. + +“I can't touch him,” he said to me, after the service; “he is far too +clever, but,” and his voice was full of pain, “I'd give something to +help him.” + +“If he doesn't quit his nonsense,” I replied, “he'll soon be past +helping. He doesn't go out on his range, his few cattle wander +everywhere, his shack is in a beastly state, and he himself is going +to pieces, miserable fool that he is.” For it did seem a shame that a +fellow should so throw himself away for nothing. + +“You are hard,” said Moore, with his eyes upon me. + +“Hard? Isn't it true?” I answered, hotly. “Then, there's his mother at +home.” + +“Yes, but can he help it? Is it all his fault?” he replied, with his +steady eyes still looking into me. + +“His fault? Whose fault, then?” + +“What of the Noble Seven? Have they anything to do with this?” His voice +was quiet, but there was an arresting intensity in it. + +“Well,” I said, rather weakly, “a man ought to look after himself.” + +“Yes!--and his brother a little.” Then, he added: “What have any of you +done to help him? The Duke could have pulled him up a year ago if he had +been willing to deny himself a little, and so with all of you. You all +do just what pleases you regardless of any other, and so you help one +another down.” + +I could not find anything just then to say, though afterwards many +things came to me; for, though his voice was quiet and low, his eyes +were glowing and his face was alight with the fire that burned within, +and I felt like one convicted of a crime. This was certainly a +new doctrine for the West; an uncomfortable doctrine to practice, +interfering seriously with personal liberty, but in The Pilot's way +of viewing things difficult to escape. There would be no end to one's +responsibility. I refused to think it out. + +Within a fortnight we were thinking it out with some intentness. The +Noble Seven were to have a great “blow-out” at the Hill brothers' ranch. +The Duke had got home from his southern trip a little more weary-looking +and a little more cynical in his smile. The “blow-out” was to be held +on Permit Sunday, the alternate to the Preaching Sunday, which was a +concession to The Pilot, secured chiefly through the influence of Hi +and his baseball nine. It was something to have created the situation +involved in the distinction between Preaching and Permit Sundays. Hi put +it rather graphically. “The devil takes his innin's one Sunday and The +Pilot the next,” adding emphatically, “He hain't done much scorin' +yit, but my money's on The Pilot, you bet!” Bill was more cautious and +preferred to wait developments. And developments were rapid. + +The Hill brothers' meet was unusually successful from a social point +of view. Several Permits had been requisitioned, and whisky and beer +abounded. Races all day and poker all night and drinks of various brews +both day and night, with varying impromptu diversions--such as shooting +the horns off wandering steers--were the social amenities indulged in by +the noble company. On Monday evening I rode out to the ranch, urged by +Moore, who was anxious that someone should look after Bruce. + +“I don't belong to them,” he said, “you do. They won't resent your +coming.” + +Nor did they. They were sitting at tea, and welcomed me with a shout. + +“Hello, old domine!” yelled Bruce, “where's your preacher friend?” + +“Where you ought to be, if you could get there--at home,” I replied, +nettled at his insolent tone. + +“Strike one!” called out Hi, enthusiastically, not approving Bruce's +attitude toward his friend, The Pilot. + +“Don't be so acute,” said Bruce, after the laugh had passed, “but have a +drink.” + +He was flushed and very shaky and very noisy. The Duke, at the head +of the table, looked a little harder than usual, but, though pale, was +quite steady. The others were all more or less nerve-broken, and about +the room were the signs of a wild night. A bench was upset, while broken +bottles and crockery lay strewn about over a floor reeking with filth. +The disgust on my face called forth an apology from the younger Hill, +who was serving up ham and eggs as best he could to the men lounging +about the table. + +“It's my housemaid's afternoon out,” he explained gravely. + +“Gone for a walk in the park,” added an other. + +“Hope MISTER Connor will pardon the absence,” sneered Bruce, in his most +offensive manner. + +“Don't mind him,” said Hi, under his breath, “the blue devils are +runnin' him down.” + +This became more evident as the evening went on. From hilarity Bruce +passed to sullen ferocity, with spasms of nervous terror. Hi's attempts +to soothe him finally drove him mad, and he drew his revolver, declaring +he could look after himself, in proof of which he began to shoot out the +lights. + +The men scrambled into safe corners, all but The Duke, who stood quietly +by watching Bruce shoot. Then saying: + +“Let me have a try, Bruce,” he reached across and caught his hand. + +“No! you don't,” said Bruce, struggling. “No man gets my gun.” + +He tore madly at the gripping hand with both of his, but in vain, +calling out with frightful oaths: + +“Let go! let go! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!” + +With a furious effort he hurled himself back from the table, dragging +The Duke partly across. There was a flash and a report and Bruce +collapsed, The Duke still gripping him. When they lifted him up he was +found to have an ugly wound in his arm, the bullet having passed through +the fleshy part. I bound it up as best I could and tried to persuade him +to go to bed. But he would go home. Nothing could stop him. Finally The +Duke agreed to go with him, and off they set, Bruce loudly protesting +that he could get home alone and did not want anyone. + +It was a dismal break-up to the meet, and we all went home feeling +rather sick, so that it gave me no pleasure to find Moore waiting in my +shack for my report of Bruce. It was quite vain for me to make light of +the accident to him. His eyes were wide open with anxious fear when I +had done. + +“You needn't tell me not to be anxious,” he said, “you are anxious +yourself. I see it, I feel it.” + +“Well, there's no use trying to keep things from you,” I replied, “but +I am only a little anxious. Don't you go beyond me and work yourself up +into a fever over it.” + +“No,” he answered quietly, “but I wish his mother were nearer.” + +“Oh, bosh, it isn't coming to that; but I wish he were in better shape. +He is broken up badly without this hole in him.” + +He would not leave till I had promised to take him up the next day, +though I was doubtful enough of his reception. But next day The Duke +came down, his black bronco, Jingo, wet with hard riding. + +“Better come up, Connor,” he said, gravely, “and bring your bromides +along. He has had a bad night and morning and fell asleep only before +I came away. I expect he'll wake in delirium. It's the whisky more than +the bullet. Snakes, you know.” + +In ten minutes we three were on the trail, for Moore, though not +invited, quietly announced his intention to go with us. + +“Oh, all right,” said The Duke, indifferently, “he probably won't +recognize you any way.” + +We rode hard for half an hour till we came within sight of Bruce's +shack, which was set back into a little poplar bluff. + +“Hold up!” said The Duke. “Was that a shot?” We stood listening. A +rifle-shot rang out, and we rode hard. Again The Duke halted us, and +there came from the shack the sound of singing. It was an old Scotch +tune. + +“The twenty-third Psalm,” said Moore, in a low voice. + +We rode into the bluff, tied up our horses and crept to the back of the +shack. Looking through a crack between the logs, I saw a gruesome thing. +Bruce was sitting up in bed with a Winchester rifle across his knees and +a belt of cartridges hanging over the post. His bandages were torn off, +the blood from his wound was smeared over his bare arms and his pale, +ghastly face; his eyes were wild with mad terror, and he was shouting at +the top of his voice the words: + + “The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want, + He makes me down to lie + In pastures green, He leadeth me + The quiet waters by.” + +Now and then he would stop to say in an awesome whisper, “Come out here, +you little devils!” and bang would go his rifle at the stovepipe, which +was riddled with holes. Then once more in a loud voice he would hurry to +begin the Psalm, + + “The Lord's my Shepherd.” + +Nothing that my memory brings to me makes me chill like that +picture--the low log shack, now in cheerless disorder; the ghastly +object upon the bed in the corner, with blood-smeared face and arms and +mad terror in the eyes; the awful cursings and more awful psalm-singing, +punctuated by the quick report of the deadly rifle. + +For some moments we stood gazing at one another; then The Duke said, in +a low, fierce tone, more to himself than to us: + +“This is the last. There'll be no more of this cursed folly among the +boys.” + +And I thought it a wise thing in The Pilot that he answered not a word. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE PILOT'S GRIP + + +The situation was one of extreme danger--a madman with a Winchester +rifle. Something must be done and quickly. But what? It would be death +to anyone appearing at the door. + +“I'll speak; you keep your eyes on him,” said The Duke. + +“Hello, Bruce! What's the row?” shouted The Duke. + +Instantly the singing stopped. A look of cunning delight came over his +face as, without a word, he got his rifle ready pointed at the door. + +“Come in!” he yelled, after waiting for some moments. “Come in! You're +the biggest of all the devils. Come on, I'll send you down where you +belong. Come, what's keeping you?” + +Over the rifle-barrel his eyes gleamed with frenzied delight. We +consulted as to a plan. + +“I don't relish a bullet much,” I said. + +“There are pleasanter things,” responded The Duke, “and he is a fairly +good shot.” + +Meantime the singing had started again, and, looking through the chink, +I saw that Bruce had got his eye on the stovepipe again. While I was +looking The Pilot slipped away from us toward the door. + +“Come back!” said the Duke, “don't be a fool! Come back, he'll shoot you +dead!” + +Moore paid no heed to him, but stood waiting at the door. In a few +moments Bruce blazed away again at the stovepipe. Immediately the Pilot +burst in, calling out eagerly: + +“Did you get him?” + +“No!” said Bruce, disappointedly, “he dodged like the devil, as of +course he ought, you know.” + +“I'll get him,” said Moore. “Smoke him out,” proceeding to open the +stove door. + +“Stop!” screamed Bruce, “don't open that door! It's full, I tell you.” + Moore paused. “Besides,” went on Bruce, “smoke won't touch 'em.” + +“Oh, that's all right,” said Moore, coolly and with admirable quickness, +“wood smoke, you know--they can't stand that.” + +This was apparently a new idea in demonology for Bruce, for he sank +back, while Moore lighted the fire and put on the tea-kettle. He looked +round for the tea-caddy. + +“Up there,” said Bruce, forgetting for the moment his devils, and +pointing to a quaint, old-fashioned tea-caddy upon the shelf. + +Moore took it down, turned it in his hands and looked at Bruce. + +“Old country, eh?” + +“My mother's,” said Bruce, soberly. + +“I could have sworn it was my aunt's in Balleymena,” said Moore. “My +aunt lived in a little stone cottage with roses all over the front of +it.” And on he went into an enthusiastic description of his early home. +His voice was full of music, soft and soothing, and poor Bruce sank back +and listened, the glitter fading from his eyes. + +The Duke and I looked at each other. + +“Not too bad, eh?” said The Duke, after a few moments' silence. + +“Let's put up the horses,” I suggested. “They won't want us for half an +hour.” + +When we came in, the room had been set in order, the tea-kettle was +singing, the bedclothes straightened out, and Moore had just finished +washing the blood stains from Bruce's arms and neck. + +“Just in time,” he said. “I didn't like to tackle these,” pointing to +the bandages. + +All night long Moore soothed and tended the sick man, now singing softly +to him, and again beguiling him with tales that meant nothing, but that +had a strange power to quiet the nervous restlessness, due partly to the +pain of the wounded arm and partly to the nerve-wrecking from his months +of dissipation. The Duke seemed uncomfortable enough. He spoke to Bruce +once or twice, but the only answer was a groan or curse with an increase +of restlessness. + +“He'll have a close squeak,” said The Duke. The carelessness of the tone +was a little overdone, but The Pilot was stirred up by it. + +“He has not been fortunate in his friends,” he said, looking straight +into his eyes. + +“A man ought to know himself when the pace is too swift,” said The Duke, +a little more quickly than was his wont. + +“You might have done anything with him. Why didn't you help him?” + Moore's tones were stern and very steady, and he never moved his eyes +from the other man's face, but the only reply he got was a shrug of the +shoulders. + +When the gray of the morning was coming in at the window The Duke rose +up, gave himself, a little shake, and said: + +“I am not of any service here. I shall come back in the evening.” + +He went and stood for a few moments looking down upon the hot, fevered +face; then, turning to me, he asked: + +“What do you think?” + +“Can't say! The bromide is holding him down just now. His blood is bad +for that wound.” + +“Can I get anything?” I knew him well enough to recognize the anxiety +under his indifferent manner. + +“The Fort doctor ought to be got.” + +He nodded and went out. + +“Have breakfast?” called out Moore from the door. + +“I shall get some at the Fort, thanks. They won't take any hurt from me +there,” he said, smiling his cynical smile. + +Moore opened his eyes in surprise. + +“What's that for?” he asked me. + +“Well, he is rather cut up, and you rather rubbed it into him, you +know,” I said, for I thought Moore a little hard. + +“Did I say anything untrue?” + +“Well, not untrue, perhaps; but truth is like medicine--not always good +to take.” At which Moore was silent till his patient needed him again. + +It was a weary day. The intense pain from the wound, and the high fever +from the poison in his blood kept the poor fellow in delirium till +evening, when The Duke rode up with the Fort doctor. Jingo appeared +as nearly played out as a horse of his spirit ever allowed himself to +become. + +“Seventy miles,” said The Duke, swinging himself off the saddle. “The +doctor was ten miles out. How is he?” + +I shook my head, and he led away his horse to give him a rub and a feed. + +Meantime the doctor, who was of the army and had seen service, was +examining his patient. He grew more and more puzzled as he noted the +various symptoms. Finally he broke out: + +“What have you been doing to him? Why is he in this condition? This +fleabite doesn't account for all,” pointing to the wound. + +We stood like children reproved. Then The Duke said, hesitatingly: + +“I fear, doctor, the life has been a little too hard for him. He had a +severe nervous attack--seeing things, you know.” + +“Yes, I know,” stormed the old doctor. “I know you well enough, with +your head of cast-iron and no nerves to speak of. I know the crowd and +how you lead them. Infernal fools! You'll get your turn some day. I've +warned you before.” + +The Duke was standing up before the doctor during this storm, smiling +slightly. All at once the smile faded out and he pointed to the bed. +Bruce was sitting up quiet and steady. He stretched out his hand to The +Duke. + +“Don't mind the old fool,” he said, holding The Duke's hand and +looking up at him as fondly as if he were a girl. “It's my own +funeral--funeral?” he paused--“Perhaps it may be--who knows?--feel queer +enough--but remember, Duke--it's my own fault--don't listen to those +bally fools,” looking towards Moore and the doctor. “My own fault”--his +voice died down--“my own fault.” + +The Duke bent over him and laid him back on the pillow, saying, “Thanks, +old chap, you're good stuff. I'll not forget. Just keep quiet and you'll +be all right.” He passed his cool, firm hand over the hot brow of the +man looking up at him with love in his eyes, and in a few moments Bruce +fell asleep. Then The Duke lifted himself up, and facing the doctor, +said in his coolest tone: + +“Your words are more true than opportune, doctor. Your patient will need +all your attention. As for my morals, Mr. Moore kindly entrusts himself +with the care of them.” This with a bow toward The Pilot. + +“I wish him joy of his charge,” snorted the doctor, turning again to the +bed, where Bruce had already passed into delirium. + +The memory of that vigil was like a horrible nightmare for months. +Moore lay on the floor and slept. The Duke rode off somewhither. The +old doctor and I kept watch. All night poor Bruce raved in the wildest +delirium, singing, now psalms, now songs, swearing at the cattle or his +poker partners, and now and then, in quieter moments, he was back in his +old home, a boy, with a boy's friends and sports. Nothing could check +the fever. It baffled the doctor, who often, during the night, declared +that there was “no sense in a wound like that working up such a fever,” + adding curses upon the folly of The Duke and his Company. + +“You don't think he will not get better, doctor?” I asked, in answer to +one of his outbreaks. + +“He ought to get over this,” he answered, impatiently, “but I believe,” + he added, deliberately, “he'll have to go.” + +Everything stood still for a moment. It seemed impossible. Two days ago +full of life, now on the way out. There crowded in upon me thoughts of +his home; his mother, whose letters he used to show me full of anxious +love; his wild life here, with all its generous impulses, its mistakes, +its folly. + +“How long will he last?” I asked, and my lips were dry and numb. + +“Perhaps twenty-four hours, perhaps longer. He can't throw off the +poison.” + +The old doctor proved a true prophet. After another day of agonized +delirium he sank into a stupor which lasted through the night. + +Then the change came. As the light began to grow at the eastern rim of +the prairie and up the far mountains in the west, Bruce opened his eyes +and looked about upon us. The doctor had gone; The Duke had not come +back; Moore and I were alone. He gazed at us steadily for some moments; +read our faces; a look of wonder came into his eyes. + +“Is it coming?” he asked in a faint, awed voice. “Do you really think I +must go?” + +The eager appeal in his voice and the wistful longing in the wide-open, +startled eyes were too much for Moore. He backed behind me and I could +hear him weeping like a baby. Bruce heard him, too. + +“Is that The Pilot?” he asked. Instantly Moore pulled himself up, wiped +his eyes and came round to the other side of the bed and looked down, +smiling. + +“Do YOU say I am dying?” The voice was strained in its earnestness. I +felt a thrill of admiration go through me as the Pilot answered in a +sweet, clear voice: “They say so, Bruce. But you are not afraid?” + +Bruce kept his eyes on his face and answered with grave hesitation: + +“No--not--afraid--but I'd like to live a little longer. I've made such +a mess of it, I'd like to try again.” Then he paused, and his +lips quivered a little. “There's my mother, you know,” he added, +apologetically, “and Jim.” Jim was his younger brother and sworn chum. + +“Yes, I know, Bruce, but it won't be very long for them, too, and it's a +good place.” + +“Yes, I believe it all--always did--talked rot--you'll forgive me that?” + +“Don't; don't,” said Moore quickly, with sharp pain in his voice, and +Bruce smiled a little and closed his eyes, saying: “I'm tired.” But he +immediately opened them again and looked up. + +“What is it?” asked Moore, smiling down into his eyes. + +“The Duke,” the poor lips whispered. + +“He is coming,” said Moore, confidently, though how he knew I could not +tell. But even as he spoke, looking out of the window, I saw Jingo come +swinging round the bluff. Bruce heard the beat of his hoofs, smiled, +opened his eyes and waited. The leap of joy in his eyes as The Duke came +in, clean, cool and fresh as the morning, went to my heart. + +Neither man said a word, but Bruce took hold of The Duke's hand in both +of his. He was fast growing weaker. I gave him brandy, and he recovered +a little strength. + +“I am dying, Duke,” he said, quietly. “Promise you won't blame +yourself.” + +“I can't, old man,” said The Duke, with a shudder. “Would to heaven I +could.” + +“You were too strong for me, and you didn't think, did you?” and the +weak voice had a caress in it. + +“No, no! God knows,” said The Duke, hurriedly. + +There was a long silence, and again Bruce opened his eyes and whispered: + +“The Pilot.” + +Moore came to him. + +“Read 'The Prodigal,'” he said faintly, and in Moore's clear, sweet +voice the music of that matchless story fell upon our ears. + +Again Bruce's eyes summoned me. I bent over him. + +“My letter,” he said, faintly, “in my coat--” + +I brought to him the last letter from his mother. He held the envelope +before his eyes, then handed it to me, whispering: + +“Read.” + +I opened the letter and looked at the words, “My darling Davie.” My +tongue stuck and not a sound could I make. Moore put out his hand and +took it from me. The Duke rose to go out, calling me with his eyes, but +Bruce motioned him to stay, and he sat down and bowed his head, while +Moore read the letter. + +His tones were clear and steady till he came to the last words, when his +voice broke and ended in a sob: + +“And oh, Davie, laddie, if ever your heart turns home again, remember +the door is aye open, and it's joy you'll bring with you to us all.” + +Bruce lay quite still, and, from his closed eyes, big tears ran down his +cheeks. It was his last farewell to her whose love had been to him the +anchor to all things pure here and to heaven beyond. + +He took the letter from Moore's hand, put it with difficulty to his +lips, and then, touching the open Bible, he said, between his breaths: + +“It's--very like--there's really--no fear, is there?” + +“No, no!” said Moore, with cheerful, confident voice, though his, tears +were flowing. “No fear of your welcome.” + +His eyes met mine. I bent over him. “Tell her--” and his voice faded +away. + +“What shall I tell her?” I asked, trying to recall him. But the message +was never given. He moved one hand slowly toward The Duke till it +touched his head. The Duke lifted his face and looked down at him, and +then he did a beautiful thing for which I forgave him much. He stooped +over and kissed the lips grown so white, and then the brow. The light +came back into the eyes of the dying man, he smiled once more, and +smilingly faced toward the Great Beyond. And the morning air, fresh from +the sun-tipped mountains and sweet with the scent of the June roses, +came blowing soft and cool through the open window upon the dead, +smiling face. And it seemed fitting so. It came from the land of the +Morning. + +Again The Duke did a beautiful thing; for, reaching across his dead +friend, he offered his hand to The Pilot. “Mr. Moore,” he said, +with fine courtesy, “you are a brave man and a good man; I ask your +forgiveness for much rudeness.” + +But Moore only shook his head while he took the outstretched hand, and +said, brokenly: + +“Don't! I can't stand it.” + +“The Company of the Noble Seven will meet no more,” said The Duke, with +a faint smile. + +They did meet, however; but when they did, The Pilot was in the chair, +and it was not for poker. + +The Pilot had “got his grip,” as Bill said. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GWEN + + +It was not many days after my arrival in the Foothill country that I +began to hear of Gwen. They all had stories of her. The details were not +many, but the impression was vivid. She lived remote from that centre of +civilization known as Swan Creek in the postal guide, but locally as +Old Latour's, far up among the hills near the Devil's Lake, and from her +father's ranch she never ventured. But some of the men had had glimpses +of her and had come to definite opinions regarding her. + +“What is she like?” I asked Bill one day, trying to pin him down to +something like a descriptive account of her. + +“Like! She's a terrer,” he said, with slow emphasis, “a holy terrer.” + +“But what is she like? What does she look like?” I asked impatiently. + +“Look like?” He considered a moment, looked slowly round as if searching +for a simile, then answered: “I dunno.” + +“Don't know? What do you mean? Haven't you seen her?” + +“Yeh! But she ain't like nothin'.” + +Bill was quite decided upon this point. + +I tried again. + +“Well, what sort of hair has she got? She's got hair, I suppose?” + +“Hayer! Well, a few!” said Bill, with some choice combinations of +profanity in repudiation of my suggestion. “Yards of it! Red!” + +“Git out!” contradicted Hi. “Red! Tain't no more red than mine!” + +Bill regarded Hi's hair critically. + +“What color do you put onto your old brush?” he asked cautiously. + +“'Tain't no difference. 'Tain't red, anyhow.” + +“Red! Well, not quite exactly,” and Bill went off into a low, long, +choking chuckle, ejaculating now and then, “Red! Jee-mi-ny Ann! Red!” + +“No, Hi,” he went on, recovering himself with the same abruptness as he +used with his bronco, and looking at his friend with a face even more +than usually solemn, “your hayer ain't red, Hi; don't let any of your +relatives persuade you to that. 'Tain't red!” and he threatened to go +off again, but pulled himself up with dangerous suddenness. “It may be +blue, cerulyum blue or even purple, but red--!” He paused violently, +looking at his friend as if he found him a new and interesting object +of study upon which he could not trust himself to speak. Nor could he be +induced to proceed with the description he had begun. + +But Hi, paying no attention to Bill's oration, took up the subject with +enthusiasm. + +“She kin ride--she's a reg'lar buster to ride, ain't she, Bill?” Bill +nodded. “She kin bunch cattle an' cut out an' yank a steer up to any +cowboy on the range.” + +“Why, how big is she?” + +“Big? Why, she's just a kid! 'Tain't the bigness of her, it's the nerve. +She's got the coldest kind of nerve you ever seen. Hain't she, Bill?” + And again Bill nodded. + +“'Member the day she dropped that steer, Bill?” went on Hi. + +“What was that?” I asked, eager for a yarn. + +“Oh, nuthin',” said Bill. + +“Nuthin'!” retorted Hi. “Pretty big nuthin'!” + +“What was it?” I urged. + +“Oh, Bill here did some funny work at old Meredith's round-up, but he +don't speak of it. He's shy, you see,” and Hi grinned. + +“Well, there ain't no occasion for your proceedin' onto that tact,” said +Bill disgustedly, and Hi loyally refrained, so I have never yet got the +rights of the story. But from what I did hear I gathered that Bill, at +the risk of his life, had pulled The Duke from under the hoofs of a mad +steer, and that little Gwen had, in the coolest possible manner, “sailed +in on her bronco” and, by putting two bullets into the steer's head, had +saved them both from great danger, perhaps from death, for the rest of +the cattle were crowding near. Of course Bill could never be persuaded +to speak of the incident. A true western man will never hesitate to tell +you what he can do, but of what he has done he does not readily speak. + +The only other item that Hi contributed to the sketch of Gwen was that +her temper could blaze if the occasion demanded. + +“'Member young Hill, Bill?” + +Bill “'membered.” + +“Didn't she cut into him sudden? Sarved him right, too.” + +“What did she do?” + +“Cut him across the face with her quirt in good style.” + +“What for?” + +“Knockin' about her Indian Joe.” + +Joe was, as I came to learn, Ponka's son and Gwen's most devoted slave. + +“Oh, she ain't no refrigerator.” + +“Yes,” assented Bill. “She's a leetle swift.” Then, as if fearing he +had been apologizing for her, he added, with the air of one settling the +question: “But she's good stock! She suits me!” + +The Duke helped me to another side of her character. + +“She is a remarkable child,” he said, one day. “Wild and shy as +a coyote, but fearless, quite; and with a heart full of passions. +Meredith, the Old Timer, you know, has kept her up there among the +hills. She sees no one but himself and Ponka's Blackfeet relations, who +treat her like a goddess and help to spoil her utterly. She knows their +lingo and their ways--goes off with them for a week at a time.” + +“What! With the Blackfeet?” + +“Ponka and Joe, of course, go along; but even without them she is as +safe as if surrounded by the Coldstream Guards, but she has given them +up for some time now.” + +“And at home?” I asked. “Has she any education? Can she read or write?” + +“Not she. She can make her own dresses, moccasins and leggings. She can +cook and wash--that is, when she feels in the mood. And she knows +all about the birds and beasts and flowers and that sort of thing, +but--education! Why, she is hardly civilized!” + +“What a shame!” I said. “How old is she?” + +“Oh, a mere child; fourteen or fifteen, I imagine; but a woman in many +things.” + +“And what does her father say to all this? Can he control her?” + +“Control!” said The Duke, in utter astonishment. “Why, bless your soul, +nothing in heaven or earth could control HER. Wait till you see her +stand with her proud little head thrown back, giving orders to Joe, and +you will never again connect the idea of control with Gwen. She might +be a princess for the pride of her. I've seen some, too, in my day, but +none to touch her for sheer, imperial pride, little Lucifer that she +is.” + +“And how does her father stand her nonsense?” I asked, for I confess I +was not much taken with the picture The Duke had drawn. + +“Her father simply follows behind her and adores, as do all things that +come near her, down, or up, perhaps, to her two dogs--Wolf and Loo--for +either of which she would readily die if need be. Still,” he added, +after a pause, “it IS a shame, as you say. She ought to know something +of the refinements of civilization, to which, after all, she belongs, +and from which none of us can hope to escape.” The Duke was silent for +a few moments, and then added, with some hesitation: “Then, too, she is +quite a pagan; never saw a prayer-book, you know.” + +And so it came about, chiefly through The Duke's influence, I imagine, +that I was engaged by the Old Timer to go up to his ranch every week and +teach his daughter something of the elementaries of a lady's education. + +My introduction was ominous of the many things I was to suffer of that +same young maiden before I had finished my course with her. The Old +Timer had given careful directions as to the trail that would lead me to +the canyon where he was to meet me. Up the Swan went the trail, winding +ever downward into deeper and narrower coulees and up to higher open +sunlit slopes, till suddenly it settled into a valley which began with +great width and narrowed to a canyon whose rocky sides were dressed out +with shrubs and trailing vines and wet with trickling rivulets from the +numerous springs that oozed and gushed from the black, glistening rocks. +This canyon was an eerie place of which ghostly tales were told from +the old Blackfeet times. And to this day no Blackfoot will dare to pass +through this black-walled, oozy, glistening canyon after the moon has +passed the western lip. But in the warm light of broad day the canyon +was a good enough place; cool and sweet, and I lingered through, waiting +for the Old Timer, who failed to appear till the shadows began to darken +its western black sides. + +Out of the mouth of the canyon the trail climbed to a wide stretch of +prairie that swept up over soft hills to the left and down to the bright +gleaming waters of the Devil's Lake on the right. In the sunlight the +lake lay like a gem radiant with many colors, the far side black in the +shadow of the crowding pines, then in the middle deep, blue and purple, +and nearer, many shades of emerald that ran quite to the white, sandy +beach. Right in front stood the ranch buildings, upon a slight rising +ground and surrounded by a sturdy palisade of upright pointed poles. +This was the castle of the princess. I rode up to the open gate, then +turned and stood to look down upon the marvellous lake shining and +shimmering with its many radiant colors. Suddenly there was an awful +roar, my pony shot round upon his hind legs after his beastly cayuse +manner, deposited me sitting upon the ground and fled down the trail, +pursued by two huge dogs that brushed past me as I fell. I was aroused +from my amazement by a peal of laughter, shrill but full of music. +Turning, I saw my pupil, as I guessed, standing at the head of a most +beautiful pinto (spotted) pony with a heavy cattle quirt in her hand. I +scrambled to my feet and said, somewhat angrily, I fear: + +“What are you laughing at? Why don't you call back your dogs? They will +chase my pony beyond all reach.” + +She lifted her little head, shook back her masses of brown-red hair, +looked at me as if I were quite beneath contempt and said: “No, they +will kill him.” + +“Then,” said I, for I was very angry, “I will kill them,” pulling at the +revolver in my belt. + +“Then,” she said, and for the first time I noticed her eyes blue-black, +with gray rims, “I will kill you,” and she whipped out an ugly-looking +revolver. From her face I had no doubt that she would not hesitate to do +as she had said. I changed my tactics, for I was anxious about my pony, +and said, with my best smile: + +“Can't you call them back? Won't they obey you?” + +Her face changed in a moment. + +“Is it your pony? Do you love him very much?” + +“Dearly!” I said, persuading myself of a sudden affection for the cranky +little brute. + +She sprang upon her pinto and set off down the trail. The pony was now +coursing up and down the slopes, doubling like a hare, instinctively +avoiding the canyon where he would be cornered. He was mad with terror +at the huge brutes that were silently but with awful and sure swiftness +running him down. + +The girl on the pinto whistled shrilly, and called to her dogs: “Down, +Wolf! Back, Loo!” but, running low, with long, stretched bodies, they +heeded not, but sped on, ever gaining upon the pony that now circled +toward the pinto. As they drew near in their circling, the girl urged +her pinto to meet them, loosening her lariat as she went. As the pony +neared the pinto he slackened his speed; immediately the nearer dog +gathered herself in two short jumps and sprang for the pony's throat. +But, even as she sprang, the lariat whirled round the girl's head +and fell swift and sure about the dog's neck, and next moment she lay +choking upon the prairie. Her mate paused, looked back, and gave up the +chase. But dire vengeance overtook them, for, like one possessed, the +girl fell upon them with her quirt and beat them one after the other +till, in pity for the brutes, I interposed. + +“They shall do as I say or I shall kill them! I shall kill them!” she +cried, raging and stamping. + +“Better shoot them,” I suggested, pulling out my pistol. + +Immediately she flung herself upon the one that moaned and whined at her +feet, crying: + +“If you dare! If you dare!” Then she burst into passionate sobbing. +“You bad Loo! You bad, dear old Loo! But you WERE bad--you KNOW you +were bad!” and so she went on with her arms about Loo's neck till Loo, +whining and quivering with love and delight, threatened to go quite +mad, and Wolf, standing majestically near, broke into short howls of +impatience for his turn of caressing. They made a strange group, those +three wild things, equally fierce and passionate in hate and in love. + +Suddenly the girl remembered me, and standing up she said, half ashamed: + +“They always obey ME. They are MINE, but they kill any strange thing +that comes in through the gate. They are allowed to.” + +“It is a pleasant whim.” + +“What?” + +“I mean, isn't that dangerous to strangers?” + +“Oh, no one ever comes alone, except The Duke. And they keep off the +wolves.” + +“The Duke comes, does he?” + +“Yes!” and her eyes lit up. “He is my friend. He calls me his +'princess,' and he teaches me to talk and tells me stories--oh, +wonderful stories!” + +I looked in wonder at her face, so gentle, so girlish, and tried to +think back to the picture of the girl who a few moments before had so +coolly threatened to shoot me and had so furiously beaten her dogs. + +I kept her talking of The Duke as we walked back to the gate, watching +her face the while. It was not beautiful; it was too thin, and the mouth +was too large. But the teeth were good, and the eyes, blue-black with +gray rims, looked straight at you; true eyes and brave, whether in love +or in war. Her hair was her glory. Red it was, in spite of Hi's denial, +but of such marvellous, indescribable shade that in certain lights, as +she rode over the prairie, it streamed behind her like a purple banner. +A most confusing and bewildering color, but quite in keeping with the +nature of the owner. + +She gave her pinto to Joe and, standing at the door, welcomed me with +a dignity and graciousness that made me think that The Duke was not far +wrong when he named her “Princess.” + +The door opened upon the main or living room. It was a long, apartment, +with low ceiling and walls of hewn logs chinked and plastered and all +beautifully whitewashed and clean. The tables, chairs and benches were +all home-made. On the floor were magnificent skins of wolf, bear, musk +ox and mountain goat. The walls were decorated with heads and horns of +deer and mountain sheep, eagles' wings and a beautiful breast of a loon, +which Gwen had shot and of which she was very proud. At one end of the +room a huge stone fireplace stood radiant in its summer decorations of +ferns and grasses and wild-flowers. At the other end a door opened +into another room, smaller and richly furnished with relics of former +grandeur. + +Everything was clean and well kept. Every nook, shelf and corner was +decked with flowers and ferns from the canyon. + +A strange house it was, full of curious contrasts, but it fitted this +quaint child that welcomed me with such gracious courtesy. + + + +CHAPTER X + +GWEN'S FIRST PRAYERS + + +It was with hesitation, almost with fear, that I began with Gwen; but +even had I been able to foresee the endless series of exasperations +through which she was destined to conduct me, still would I have +undertaken my task. For the child, with all her wilfulness, her tempers +and her pride, made me, as she did all others, her willing slave. + +Her lessons went on, brilliantly or not at all, according to her sweet +will. She learned to read with extraordinary rapidity, for she was eager +to know more of that great world of which The Duke had told her such +thrilling tales. Writing she abhorred. She had no one to write to. Why +should she cramp her fingers over these crooked little marks? But she +mastered with hardly a struggle the mysteries of figures, for she would +have to sell her cattle, and “dad doesn't know when they are cheating.” + Her ideas of education were purely utilitarian, and what did not appear +immediately useful she refused to trifle with. And so all through the +following long winter she vexed my righteous soul with her wilfulness +and pride. An appeal to her father was idle. She would wind her long, +thin arms about his neck and let her waving red hair float over him +until the old man was quite helpless to exert authority. The Duke could +do most with her. To please him she would struggle with her crooked +letters for an hour at a time, but even his influence and authority had +its limits. + +“Must I?” she said one day, in answer to a demand of his for more +faithful study; “must I?” And throwing up her proud little head, and +shaking back with a trick she had her streaming red hair, she looked +straight at him from her blue-gray eyes and asked the monosyllabic +question, “Why?” And The Duke looked back at her with his slight smile +for a few moments and then said in cold, even tones: + +“I really don't know why,” and turned his back on her. Immediately she +sprang at him, shook him by the arm, and, quivering with passion, cried: + +“You are not to speak to me like that, and you are not to turn your back +that way!” + +“What a little princess it is,” he said admiringly, “and what a time she +will give herself some day!” Then he added, smiling sadly: “Was I rude, +Gwen? Then I am sorry.” Her rage was gone, and she looked as if she +could have held him by the feet. As it was, too proud to show her +feelings, she just looked at him with softening eyes, and then sat down +to the work she had refused. This was after the advent of The Pilot at +Swan Creek, and, as The Duke rode home with me that night, after long +musing he said with hesitation: “She ought to have some religion, poor +child; she will grow up a perfect little devil. The Pilot might be of +service if you could bring him up. Women need that sort of thing; it +refines, you know.” + +“Would she have him?” I asked. + +“Question,” he replied, doubtfully. “You might suggest it.” + +Which I did, introducing somewhat clumsily, I fear, The Duke's name. + +“The Duke says he is to make me good!” she cried. “I won't have him, I +hate him and you too!” And for that day she disdained all lessons, and +when The Duke next appeared she greeted him with the exclamation, “I +won't have your old Pilot, and I don't want to be good, and--and--you +think he's no good yourself,” at which the Duke opened his eyes. + +“How do you know? I never said so!” + +“You laughed at him to dad one day.” + +“Did I?” said The Duke, gravely. “Then I hasten to assure, you that I +have changed my mind. He is a good, brave man.” + +“He falls off his horse,” she said, with contempt. + +“I rather think he sticks on now,” replied The Duke, repressing a smile. + +“Besides,” she went on, “he's just a kid; Bill said so.” + +“Well, he might be more ancient,” acknowledged The Duke, “but in that he +is steadily improving.” + +“Anyway,” with an air of finality, “he is not to come here.” + +But he did come, and under her own escort, one threatening August +evening. + +“I found him in the creek,” she announced, with defiant shamefacedness, +marching in The Pilot half drowned. + +“I think I could have crossed,” he said, apologetically, “for Louis was +getting on his feet again.” + +“No, you wouldn't,” she protested. “You would have been down into the +canyon by now, and you ought to be thankful.” + +“So I am,” he hastened to say, “very! But,” he added, unwilling to give +up his contention, “I have crossed the Swan before.” + +“Not when it was in flood.” + +“Yes, when it was in flood, higher than now.” + +“Not where the banks are rocky.” + +“No-o!” he hesitated. + +“There, then, you WOULD have been drowned but for my lariat!” she cried, +triumphantly. + +To this he doubtfully assented. + +They were much alike, in high temper, in enthusiasm, in vivid +imagination, and in sensitive feeling. When the Old Timer came in Gwen +triumphantly introduced The Pilot as having been rescued from a watery +grave by her lariat, and again they fought out the possibilities +of drowning and of escape till Gwen almost lost her temper, and was +appeased only by the most profuse expressions of gratitude on the part +of The Pilot for her timely assistance. The Old Timer was perplexed. He +was afraid to offend Gwen and yet unwilling to be cordial to her guest. +The Pilot was quick to feel this, and, soon after tea, rose to go. +Gwen's disappointment showed in her face. + +“Ask him to stay, dad,” she said, in a whisper. But the half-hearted +invitation acted like a spur, and The Pilot was determined to set off. + +“There's a bad storm coming,” she said; “and besides,” she added, +triumphantly “you can't cross the Swan.” + +This settled it, and the most earnest prayers of the Old Timer could not +have held him back. + +We all went down to see him cross, Gwen leading her pinto. The Swan was +far over its banks, and in the middle running swift and strong. +Louis snorted, refused and finally plunged. Bravely he swam, till the +swift-running water struck him, and over he went on his side, throwing +his rider into the water. But The Pilot kept his head, and, holding +by the stirrups, paddled along by Louis' side. When they were half-way +across Louis saw that he had no chance of making the landing; so, like +a sensible horse, he turned and made for the shore. Here, too, the banks +were high, and the pony began to grow discouraged. + +“Let him float down further!” shrieked Gwen, in anxious excitement; and, +urging her pinto down the bank, she coaxed the struggling pony down the +stream till opposite a shelf of rock level with the high water. Then she +threw her lariat, and, catching Louis about the neck and the horn of +his saddle, she held taut, till, half drowned, he scrambled up the bank, +dragging The Pilot with him. + +“Oh, I'm so glad!” she said, almost tearfully. “You see, you couldn't +get across.” + +The Pilot staggered to his feet, took a step toward her, gasped out: + +“I can!” and pitched headlong. With a little cry she flew to him, and +turned him over on his back. In a few moments he revived, sat up, and +looked about stupidly. + +“Where's Louis?” he said, with his face toward the swollen stream. + +“Safe enough,” she answered; “but you must come in, the rain is just +going to pour.” + +But The Pilot seemed possessed. + +“No, I'm going across,” he said, rising. + +Gwen was greatly distressed. + +“But your poor horse,” she said, cleverly changing her ground; “he is +quite tired out.” + +The Old Timer now joined earnestly in urging him to stay till the storm +was past. So, with a final look at the stream, The Pilot turned toward +the house. + +Of course I knew what would happen. Before the evening was over he had +captured the household. The moment he appeared with dry things on he ran +to the organ, that had stood for ten years closed and silent, opened +it and began to play. As he played and sang song after song, the Old +Timer's eyes began to glisten under his shaggy brows. But when he +dropped into the exquisite Irish melody, “Oft in the Stilly Night,” the +old man drew a hard breath and groaned out to me: + +“It was her mother's song,” and from that time The Pilot had him fast. +It was easy to pass to the old hymn, “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” and then +The Pilot said simply, “May we have prayers?” He looked at Gwen, but she +gazed blankly at him and then at her father. + +“What does he say, dad?” + +It was pitiful to see the old man's face grow slowly red under the deep +tan, as he said: + +“You may, sir. There's been none here for many years, and the worse for +us.” He rose slowly, went into the inner room and returned with a Bible. + +“It's her mother's,” he said, in a voice deep with emotion. “I put it +in her trunk the day I laid her out yonder under the pines.” The Pilot, +without looking at him, rose and reverently took the book in both his +hands and said gently: + +“It was a sad day for you, but for her--” He paused. “You did not grudge +it to her?” + +“Not now, but then, yes! I wanted her, we needed her.” The Old Timer's +tears were flowing. + +The Pilot put his hand caressingly upon the old man's shoulder as if he +had been his father, and said in his clear, sweet voice, “Some day you +will go to her.” + +Upon this scene poor Gwen gazed with eyes wide open with amazement and +a kind of fear. She had never seen her father weep since the awful day +that she could never forget, when he had knelt in dumb agony beside the +bed on which her mother lay white and still; nor would he heed her till, +climbing up, she tried to make her mother waken and hear her cries. Then +he had caught her up in his arms, pressing her with tears and great sobs +to his heart. To-night she seemed to feel that something was wrong. She +went and stood by her father, and, stroking his gray hair kindly, she +said: + +“What is he saying, daddy? Is he making you cry?” She looked at The +Pilot defiantly. + +“No, no, child,” said the old man, hastily, “sit here and listen.” + +And while the storm raved outside we three sat listening to that ancient +story of love ineffable. And, as the words fell like sweet music upon +our ears, the old man sat with eyes that looked far away, while the +child listened with devouring eagerness. + +“Is it a fairy tale, daddy?” she asked, as The Pilot paused. “It isn't +true, is it?” and her voice had a pleading note hard for the old man to +bear. + +“Yes, yes, my child,” said he, brokenly. “God forgive me!” + +“Of course it's true,” said The Pilot, quickly. “I'll read it all to you +to-morrow. It's a beautiful story!” + +“No,” she said, imperiously, “to-night. Read it now! Go on!” she said, +stamping her foot, “don't you hear me?” + +The Pilot gazed in surprise at her, and then turning to the old man, +said: + +“Shall I?” + +The Old Timer simply nodded and the reading went on. Those were not my +best days, and the faith of my childhood was not as it had been; but, as +The Pilot carried us through those matchless scenes of self-forgetting +love and service the rapt wonder in the child's face as she listened, +the appeal in her voice as, now to her father, and now to me, she +cried: “Is THAT true, too? Is it ALL true?” made it impossible for me +to hesitate in my answer. And I was glad to find it easy to give my firm +adherence to the truth of all that tale of wonder. And, as more and more +it grew upon The Pilot that the story he was reading, so old to him and +to all he had ever met, was new to one in that listening group, his face +began to glow and his eyes to blaze, and he saw and showed me things +that night I had never seen before, nor have I seen them since. The +great figure of the Gospels lived, moved before our eyes. We saw Him +bend to touch the blind, we heard Him speak His marvellous teaching, we +felt the throbbing excitement of the crowds that pressed against Him. + +Suddenly The Pilot stopped, turned over the leaves and began again: “And +He led them out as far as to Bethany. And He lifted up His hands and +blessed them. And it came to pass as He blessed them He was parted from +them and a cloud received Him out of their sight.” There was silence for +some minutes, then Gwen said: + +“Where did He go?” + +“Up into Heaven,” answered The Pilot, simply. + +“That's where mother is,” she said to her father, who nodded in reply. + +“Does He know?” she asked. The old man looked distressed. + +“Of course He does,” said The Pilot, “and she sees Him all the time.” + +“Oh, daddy!” she cried, “isn't that good?” + +But the old man only hid his face in his hands and groaned. + +“Yes,” went on The Pilot, “and He sees us, too, and hears us speak, and +knows our thoughts.” + +Again the look of wonder and fear came into her eyes, but she said no +word. The experiences of the evening had made the world new to her. It +could never be the same to her again. It gave me a queer feeling to see +her, when we three kneeled to pray, stand helplessly looking on, not +knowing what to do, then sink beside her father, and, winding her arms +about his neck, cling to him as the words of prayer were spoken into the +ear of Him whom no man can see, but who we believe is near to all that +call upon Him. + +Those were Gwen's first “prayers,” and in them Gwen's part was small, +for fear and wonder filled her heart; but the day was to come, and all +too soon, when she should have to pour out her soul with strong crying +and tears. That day came and passed, but the story of it is not to be +told here. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GWEN'S CHALLENGE + + +Gwen was undoubtedly wild and, as The Sky Pilot said, wilful and wicked. +Even Bronco Bill and Hi Kendal would say so, without, of course, abating +one jot of their admiration for her. For fourteen years she had lived +chiefly with wild things. The cattle on the range, wild as deer, the +coyotes, the jack-rabbits and the timber wolves were her mates and her +instructors. From these she learned her wild ways. The rolling prairie +of the Foothill country was her home. She loved it and all things that +moved upon it with passionate love, the only kind she was capable of. +And all summer long she spent her days riding up and down the range +alone, or with her father, or with Joe, or, best of all, with The +Duke, her hero and her friend. So she grew up strong, wholesome and +self-reliant, fearing nothing alive and as untamed as a yearling range +colt. + +She was not beautiful. The winds and sun had left her no complexion to +speak of, but the glory of her red hair, gold-red, with purple sheen, +nothing could tarnish. Her eyes, too, deep blue with rims of gray, that +flashed with the glint of steel or shone with melting light as of the +stars, according to her mood--those Irish, warm, deep eyes of hers were +worth a man's looking at. + +Of course, all spoiled her. Ponka and her son Joe grovelled in abjectest +adoration, while her father and all who came within touch of her simply +did her will. Even The Duke, who loved her better than anything else, +yielded lazy, admiring homage to his Little Princess, and certainly, +when she stood straight up with her proud little gold-crowned head +thrown back, flashing forth wrath or issuing imperious commands, she +looked a princess, all of her. + +It was a great day and a good day for her when she fished The Sky Pilot +out of the Swan and brought him home, and the night of Gwen's first +“prayers,” when she heard for the first time the story of the Man of +Nazareth, was the best of all her nights up to that time. All through +the winter, under The Pilot's guidance, she, with her father, the Old +Timer, listening near, went over and over that story so old now to many, +but ever becoming new, till a whole new world of mysterious Powers +and Presences lay open to her imagination and became the home of great +realities. She was rich in imagination and, when The Pilot read Bunyan's +immortal poem, her mother's old “Pilgrim's Progress,” she moved and +lived beside the hero of that tale, backing him up in his fights and +consumed with anxiety over his many impending perils, till she had him +safely across the river and delivered into the charge of the shining +ones. + +The Pilot himself, too, was a new and wholesome experience. He was the +first thing she had yet encountered that refused submission, and the +first human being that had failed to fall down and worship. There was +something in him that would not ALWAYS yield, and, indeed, her pride +and her imperious tempers he met with surprise and sometimes with a pity +that verged toward contempt. With this she was not well pleased and not +infrequently she broke forth upon him. One of these outbursts is stamped +upon my mind, not only because of its unusual violence, but chiefly +because of the events which followed. The original cause of her rage was +some trifling misdeed of the unfortunate Joe; but when I came upon the +scene it was The Pilot who was occupying her attention. The expression +of surprise and pity on his face appeared to stir her up. + +“How dare you look at me like that?” she cried. + +“How very extraordinary that you can't keep hold of yourself better!” he +answered. + +“I can!” she stamped, “and I shall do as I like!” + +“It is a great pity,” he said, with provoking calm, “and besides, it is +weak and silly.” His words were unfortunate. + +“Weak!” she gasped, when her breath came back to her. “Weak!” + +“Yes,” he said, “very weak and childish.” + +Then she could have cheerfully put him to a slow and cruel death. When +she had recovered a little she cried vehemently: + +“I'm not weak! I'm strong! I'm stronger than you are! I'm strong +as--as--a man!” + +I do not suppose she meant the insinuation; at any rate The Pilot +ignored it and went on. + +“You're not strong enough to keep your temper down.” And then, as she +had no reply ready, he went on, “And really, Gwen, it is not right. You +must not go on in this way.” + +Again his words were unfortunate. + +“MUST NOT!” she cried, adding an inch to her height. “Who says so?” + +“God!” was the simple, short answer. + +She was greatly taken back, and gave a quick glance over her shoulder as +if to see Him, who would dare to say MUST NOT to her; but, recovering, +she answered sullenly: + +“I don't care!” + +“Don't care for God?” The Pilot's voice was quiet and solemn, but +something in his manner angered her, and she blazed forth again. + +“I don't care for anyone, and I SHALL do as I like.” + +The Pilot looked at her sadly for a moment, and then said slowly: + +“Some day, Gwen, you will not be able to do as you like.” + +I remember well the settled defiance in her tone and manner as she took +a step nearer him and answered in a voice trembling with passion: + +“Listen! I have always done as I like, and I shall do as I like till I +die!” And she rushed forth from the house and down toward the canyon, +her refuge from all disturbing things, and chiefly from herself. + +I could not shake off the impression her words made upon me. “Pretty +direct, that,” I said to The Pilot, as we rode away. “The declaration +may be philosophically correct, but it rings uncommonly like a challenge +to the Almighty. Throws down the gauntlet, so to speak.” + +But The Pilot only said, “Don't! How can you?” + +Within a week her challenge was accepted, and how fiercely and how +gallantly did she struggle to make it good! + +It was The Duke that brought me the news, and as he told me the story +his gay, careless self-command for once was gone. For in the gloom +of the canyon where he overtook me I could see his face gleaming out +ghastly white, and even his iron nerve could not keep the tremor from +his voice. + +“I've just sent up the doctor,” was his answer to my greeting. “I looked +for you last night, couldn't find you, and so rode off to the Fort.” + +“What's up?” I said, with fear in my heart, for no light thing moved The +Duke. + +“Haven't you heard? It's Gwen,” he said, and the next minute or two he +gave to Jingo, who was indulging in a series of unexpected plunges. When +Jingo was brought down, The Duke was master of himself and told his tale +with careful self-control. + +Gwen, on her father's buckskin bronco, had gone with The Duke to the big +plain above the cut-bank where Joe was herding the cattle. The day +was hot and a storm was in the air. They found Joe riding up and down, +singing to keep the cattle quiet, but having a hard time to hold the +bunch from breaking. While The Duke was riding around the far side of +the bunch, a cry from Gwen arrested his attention. Joe was in trouble. +His horse, a half-broken cayuse, had stumbled into a badger-hole and had +bolted, leaving Joe to the mercy of the cattle. At once they began to +sniff suspiciously at this phenomenon, a man on foot, and to follow +cautiously on his track. Joe kept his head and walked slowly out, till +all at once a young cow began to bawl and to paw the ground. In another +minute one, and then another of the cattle began to toss their heads and +bunch and bellow till the whole herd of two hundred were after Joe. +Then Joe lost his head and ran. Immediately the whole herd broke into a +thundering gallop with heads and tails aloft and horns rattling like the +loading of a regiment of rifles. + +“Two more minutes,” said The Duke, “would have done for Joe, for I could +never have reached him; but, in spite of my most frantic warnings and +signalings, right into the face of that mad, bellowing, thundering +mass of steers rode that little girl. Nerve! I have some myself, but I +couldn't have done it. She swung her horse round Joe and sailed out with +him, with the herd bellowing at the tail of her bronco. I've seen some +cavalry things in my day, but for sheer cool bravery nothing touches +that.” + +“How did it end? Did they run them down?” I asked, with terror at such a +result. + +“No, they crowded her toward the cut-bank, and she was edging them off +and was almost past, when they came to a place where the bank bit in, +and her iron-mouthed brute wouldn't swerve, but went pounding on, broke +through, plunged; she couldn't spring free because of Joe, and pitched +headlong over the bank, while the cattle went thundering past. I flung +myself off Jingo and slid down somehow into the sand, thirty feet below. +Here was Joe safe enough, but the bronco lay with a broken leg, and half +under him was Gwen. She hardly knew she was hurt, but waved her hand to +me and cried out, 'Wasn't that a race? I couldn't swing this hard-headed +brute. Get me out.' But even as she spoke the light faded from her eyes, +she stretched out her hands to me, saying faintly, 'Oh, Duke,' and lay +back white and still. We put a bullet into the buckskin's head, and +carried her home in our jackets, and there she lies without a sound from +her poor, white lips.” + +The Duke was badly cut up. I had never seen him show any sign of grief +before, but as he finished the story he stood ghastly and shaking. He +read my surprise in my face and said: + +“Look here, old chap, don't think me quite a fool. You can't know what +that little girl has done for me these years. Her trust in me--it is +extraordinary how utterly she trusts me--somehow held me up to my best +and back from perdition. It is the one bright spot in my life in this +blessed country. Everyone else thinks me a pleasant or unpleasant kind +of fiend.” + +I protested rather faintly. + +“Oh, don't worry your conscience,” he answered, with a slight return +of his old smile, “a fuller knowledge would only justify the opinion.” + Then, after a pause, he added: “But if Gwen goes, I must pull out, I +could not stand it.” + +As we rode up, the doctor came out. + +“Well, what do you think?” asked The Duke. + +“Can't say yet,” replied the old doctor, gruff with long army practice, +“bad enough. Good night.” + +But The Duke's hand fell upon his shoulder with a grip that must have +got to the bone, and in a husky voice he asked: + +“Will she live?” + +The doctor squirmed, but could not shake off that crushing grip. + +“Here, you young tiger, let go! What do you think I am made of?” he +cried, angrily. “I didn't suppose I was coming to a bear's den, or I +should have brought a gun.” + +It was only by the most complete apology that The Duke could mollify the +old doctor sufficiently to get his opinion. + +“No, she will not die! Great bit of stuff! Better she should die, +perhaps! But can't say yet for two weeks. Now remember,” he added +sharply, looking into The Duke's woe-stricken face, “her spirits must be +kept up. I have lied most fully and cheerfully to them inside; you must +do the same,” and the doctor strode away, calling out: + +“Joe! Here, Joe! Where is he gone? Joe, I say! Extraordinary selection +Providence makes at times; we could have spared that lazy half-breed +with pleasure! Joe! Oh, here you are! Where in thunder--” But here the +doctor stopped abruptly. The agony in the dark face before him was too +much even for the bluff doctor. Straight and stiff Joe stood by the +horse's head till the doctor had mounted, then with a great effort he +said: + +“Little miss, she go dead?” + +“Dead!” called out the doctor, glancing at the open window. “Why, +bless your old copper carcass, no! Gwen will show you yet how to rope a +steer.” + +Joe took a step nearer, and lowering his tone said: + +“You speak me true? Me man, Me no papoose.” The piercing black eyes +searched the doctor's face. The doctor hesitated a moment, and then, +with an air of great candor, said cheerily: + +“That's all right, Joe. Miss Gwen will cut circles round your old cayuse +yet. But remember,” and the doctor was very impressive, “you must make +her laugh every day.” + +Joe folded his arms across his breast and stood like a statue till the +doctor rode away; then turning to us he grunted out: + +“Him good man, eh?” + +“Good man,” answered The Duke, adding, “but remember, Joe, what he told +you to do. Must make her laugh every day.” + +Poor Joe! Humor was not his forte, and his attempt in this direction +in the weeks that followed would have been humorous were they not so +pathetic. How I did my part I cannot tell. Those weeks are to me now +like the memory of an ugly nightmare. The ghostly old man moving out +and in of his little daughter's room in useless, dumb agony; Ponka's +woe-stricken Indian face; Joe's extraordinary and unusual but loyal +attempts at fun-making grotesquely sad, and The Duke's unvarying and +invincible cheeriness; these furnish light and shade for the picture my +memory brings me of Gwen in those days. + +For the first two weeks she was simply heroic. She bore her pain without +a groan, submitted to the imprisonment which was harder than pain with +angelic patience. Joe, The Duke and I carried out our instructions with +careful exactness to the letter. She never doubted, and we never let her +doubt but that in a few weeks she would be on the pinto's back again and +after the cattle. She made us pass our word for this till it seemed as +if she must have read the falsehoods on our brows. + +“To lie cheerfully with her eyes upon one's face calls for more than I +possess,” said The Duke one day. “The doctor should supply us tonics. It +is an arduous task.” + +And she believed us absolutely, and made plans for the fall “round-up,” + and for hunts and rides till one's heart grew sick. As to the ethical +problem involved, I decline to express an opinion, but we had no need +to wait for our punishment. Her trust in us, her eager and confident +expectation of the return of her happy, free, outdoor life; these +brought to us, who knew how vain they were, their own adequate +punishment for every false assurance we gave. And how bright and brave +she was those first days! How resolute to get back to the world of air +and light outside! + +But she had need of all her brightness and courage and resolution before +she was done with her long fight. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +GWEN'S CANYON + + +Gwen's hope and bright courage, in spite of all her pain, were wonderful +to witness. But all this cheery hope and courage and patience snuffed +out as a candle, leaving noisome darkness to settle down in that +sick-room from the day of the doctor's consultation. + +The verdict was clear and final. The old doctor, who loved Gwen as his +own, was inclined to hope against hope, but Fawcett, the clever young +doctor from the distant town, was positive in his opinion. The scene is +clear to me now, after many years. We three stood in the outer room; The +Duke and her father were with Gwen. So earnest was the discussion that +none of us heard the door open just as young Fawcett was saying in +incisive tones: + +“No! I can see no hope. The child can never walk again.” + +There was a cry behind us. + +“What! Never walk again! It's a lie!” There stood the Old Timer, white, +fierce, shaking. + +“Hush!” said the old doctor, pointing at the open door. He was too late. +Even as he spoke, there came from the inner room a wild, unearthly +cry as of some dying thing and, as we stood gazing at one another with +awe-stricken faces, we heard Gwen's voice as in quick, sharp pain. + +“Daddy! daddy! come! What do they say? Tell me, daddy. It is not true! +It is not true! Look at me, daddy!” + +She pulled up her father's haggard face from the bed. + +“Oh, daddy, daddy, you know it's true. Never walk again!” + +She turned with a pitiful cry to The Duke, who stood white and stiff +with arms drawn tight across his breast on the other side of the bed. + +“Oh, Duke, did you hear them? You told me to be brave, and I tried not +to cry when they hurt me. But I can't be brave! Can I, Duke? Oh, Duke! +Never to ride again!” + +She stretched out her hands to him. But The Duke, leaning over her and +holding her hands fast in his, could only say brokenly over and over: +“Don't, Gwen! Don't, Gwen dear!” + +But the pitiful, pleading voice went on. + +“Oh, Duke! Must I always lie here? Must, I? Why must I?” + +“God knows,” answered The Duke bitterly, under his breath, “I don't!” + +She caught at the word. + +“Does He?” she cried, eagerly. Then she paused suddenly, turned to me +and said: “Do you remember he said some day I could not do as I liked?” + +I was puzzled. + +“The Pilot,” she cried, impatiently, “don't you remember? And I said I +should do as I liked till I died.” + +I nodded my head and said: “But you know you didn't mean it.” + +“But I did, and I do,” she cried, with passionate vehemence, “and I will +do as I like! I will not lie here! I will ride! I will! I will! I will!” + and she struggled up, clenched her fists, and sank back faint and weak. +It was not a pleasant sight, but gruesome. Her rage against that Unseen +Omnipotence was so defiant and so helpless. + +Those were dreadful weeks to Gwen and to all about her. The constant +pain could not break her proud spirit; she shed no tears; but she +fretted and chafed and grew more imperiously exacting every day. Ponka +and Joe she drove like a slave master, and even her father, when he +could not understand her wishes, she impatiently banished from her room. +Only The Duke could please or bring her any cheer, and even The Duke +began to feel that the day was not far off when he, too, would fail, and +the thought made him despair. Her pain was hard to bear, but harder than +the pain was her longing for the open air and the free, flower-strewn, +breeze-swept prairie. But most pitiful of all were the days when, in her +utter weariness and uncontrollable unrest, she would pray to be taken +down into the canyon. + +“Oh, it is so cool and shady,” she would plead, “and the flowers up in +the rocks and the vines and things are all so lovely. I am always better +there. I know I should be better,” till The Duke would be distracted and +would come to me and wonder what the end would be. + +One day, when the strain had been more terrible than usual, The Duke +rode down to me and said: + +“Look here, this thing can't go on. Where is The Pilot gone? Why doesn't +he stay where he belongs? I wish to Heaven he would get through with his +absurd rambling.” + +“He's gone where he was sent,” I replied shortly. “You don't set much +store by him when he does come round. He is gone on an exploring trip +through the Dog Lake country. He'll be back by the end of next week.” + +“I say, bring him up, for Heaven's sake,” said The Duke, “he may be of +some use, and anyway it will be a new face for her, poor child.” Then he +added, rather penitently: “I fear this thing is getting on to my nerves. +She almost drove me out to-day. Don't lay it up against me, old chap.” + +It was a new thing to hear The Duke confess his need of any man, much +less penitence for a fault. I felt my eyes growing dim, but I said, +roughly: + +“You be hanged! I'll bring The Pilot up when he comes.” + +It was wonderful how we had all come to confide in The Pilot during +his year of missionary work among us. Somehow the cowboy's name of “Sky +Pilot” seemed to express better than anything else the place he held +with us. Certain it is, that when, in their dark hours, any of the +fellows felt in need of help to strike the “upward trail,” they went to +The Pilot; and so the name first given in chaff came to be the name +that expressed most truly the deep and tender feeling these rough, +big-hearted men cherished for him. When The Pilot came home I carefully +prepared him for his trial, telling all that Gwen had suffered and +striving to make him feel how desperate was her case when even The Duke +had to confess himself beaten. He did not seem sufficiently impressed. +Then I pictured for him all her fierce wilfulness and her fretful +humors, her impatience with those who loved her and were wearing out +their souls and bodies for her. “In short,” I concluded, “she doesn't +care a rush for anything in heaven or earth, and will yield to neither +man nor God.” + +The Pilot's eyes had been kindling as I talked, but he only answered, +quietly: + +“What could you expect?” + +“Well, I do think she might show some signs of gratitude and some +gentleness towards those ready to die for her.” + +“Oh, you do!” said he, with high scorn. “You all combine to ruin her +temper and disposition with foolish flattery and weak yielding to her +whims, right or wrong; you smile at her imperious pride and encourage +her wilfulness, and then not only wonder at the results, but blame her, +poor child, for all. Oh, you are a fine lot, The Duke and all of you!” + +He had a most exasperating ability for putting one in the wrong, and +I could only think of the proper and sufficient reply long after the +opportunity for making it had passed. I wondered what The Duke would say +to this doctrine. All the following day, which was Sunday, I could see +that Gwen was on The Pilot's mind. He was struggling with the problem of +pain. + +Monday morning found us on the way to the Old Timer's ranch. And what +a morning it was! How beautiful our world seemed! About us rolled the +round-topped, velvet hills, brown and yellow or faintly green, spreading +out behind us to the broad prairie, and before, clambering up and up +to meet the purple bases of the great mountains that lay their mighty +length along the horizon and thrust up white, sunlit peaks into the blue +sky. On the hillsides and down in the sheltering hollows we could see +the bunches of cattle and horses feeding upon the rich grasses. High +above, the sky, cloudless and blue, arched its great kindly roof from +prairie to mountain peaks, and over all, above, below, upon prairie, +hillsides and mountains, the sun poured his floods of radiant yellow +light. + +As we followed the trail that wound up and into the heart of these +rounded hills and ever nearer to the purple mountains, the morning +breeze swept down to meet us, bearing a thousand scents, and filling us +with its own fresh life. One can know the quickening joyousness of these +Foothill breezes only after he has drunk with wide-open mouth, deep and +full of them. + +Through all this mingling beauty of sunlit hills and shady hollows and +purple, snow-peaked mountains, we rode with hardly a word, every minute +adding to our heart-filling delight, but ever with the thought of +the little room where, shut in from all this outside glory, lay Gwen, +heart-sore with fretting and longing. This must have been in The Pilot's +mind, for he suddenly held up his horse and burst out: + +“Poor Gwen, how she loves all this!--it is her very life. How can she +help fretting the heart out of her? To see this no more!” He flung +himself off his bronco and said, as if thinking aloud: “It is too awful! +Oh, it is cruel! I don't wonder at her! God help me, what can I say to +her?” + +He threw himself down upon the grass and turned over on his face. After +a few minutes he appealed to me, and his face was sorely troubled. + +“How can one go to her? It seems to me sheerest mockery to speak of +patience and submission to a wild young thing from whom all this +is suddenly snatched forever--and this was very life to her, too, +remember.” + +Then he sprang up and we rode hard for an hour, till we came to the +mouth of the canyon. Here the trail grew difficult and we came to a +walk. As we went down into the cool depths the spirit of the canyon came +to meet us and took The Pilot in its grip. He rode in front, feasting +his eyes on all the wonders in that storehouse of beauty. Trees of many +kinds deepened the shadows of the canyon. Over us waved the big elms +that grew up here and there out of the bottom, and around their feet +clustered low cedars and hemlocks and balsams, while the sturdy, rugged +oaks and delicate, trembling poplars clung to the rocky sides and +clambered up and out to the canyon's sunny lips. Back of all, the great +black rocks, decked with mossy bits and clinging things, glistened cool +and moist between the parting trees. From many an oozy nook the dainty +clematis and columbine shook out their bells, and, lower down, from +beds of many-colored moss the late wind-flower and maiden-hair and tiny +violet lifted up brave, sweet faces. And through the canyon the Little +Swan sang its song to rocks and flowers and overhanging trees, a song +of many tones, deep-booming where it took its first sheer plunge, +gay-chattering where it threw itself down the ragged rocks, and +soft-murmuring where it lingered about the roots of the loving, +listening elms. A cool, sweet, soothing place it was, with all its +shades and sounds and silences, and, lest it should be sad to any, the +sharp, quick sunbeams danced and laughed down through all its leaves +upon mosses, flowers and rocks. No wonder that The Pilot, drawing a deep +breath as he touched the prairie sod again, said: + +“That does me good. It is better at times even than the sunny hills. +This was Gwen's best spot.” + +I saw that the canyon had done its work with him. His face was strong +and calm as the hills on a summer morning, and with this face he looked +in upon Gwen. It was one of her bad days and one of her bad moods, but +like a summer breeze he burst into the little room. + +“Oh, Gwen!” he cried, without a word of greeting, much less of +Commiseration, “we have had such a ride!” And he spread out the sunlit, +round-topped hills before her, till I could feel their very breezes in +my face. This The Duke had never dared to do, fearing to grieve her with +pictures of what she should look upon no more. But, as The Pilot talked, +before she knew, Gwen was out again upon her beloved hills, breathing +their fresh, sunny air, filling her heart with their multitudinous +delights, till her eyes grew bright and the lines of fretting smoothed +out of her face and she forgot her pain. Then, before she could +remember, he had her down into the canyon, feasting her heart with its +airs and sights and sounds. The black, glistening rocks, tricked out +with moss and trailing vines, the great elms and low green cedars, the +oaks and shivering poplars, the clematis and columbine hanging from +the rocky nooks, and the violets and maiden-hair deep bedded in their +mosses. All this and far more he showed her with a touch so light as not +to shake the morning dew from bell or leaf or frond, and with a voice so +soft and full of music as to fill our hearts with the canyon's mingling +sounds, and, as I looked upon her face, I said to myself: “Dear old +Pilot! for this I shall always love you well.” As poor Gwen listened, +the rapture of it drew the big tears down her cheeks--alas! no longer +brown, but white, and for that day at least the dull, dead weariness was +lifted from her heart. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CANYON FLOWERS + + +The Pilot's first visit to Gwen had been a triumph. But none knew better +than he that the fight was still to come, for deep in Gwen's heart were +thoughts whose pain made her forget all other. + +“Was it God let me fall?” she asked abruptly one day, and The Pilot +knew the fight was on; but he only answered, looking fearlessly into her +eyes: + +“Yes, Gwen dear.” + +“Why did He let me fall?” and her voice was very deliberate. + +“I don't know, Gwen dear,” said The Pilot steadily. “He knows.” + +“And does He know I shall never ride again? Does He know how long the +days are, and the nights when I can't sleep? Does He know?” + +“Yes, Gwen dear,” said The Pilot, and the tears were standing in his +eyes, though his voice was still steady enough. + +“Are you sure He knows?” The voice was painfully intense. + +“Listen to me, Gwen,” began The Pilot, in great distress, but she cut +him short. + +“Are you quite sure He knows? Answer me!” she cried, with her old +imperiousness. + +“Yes, Gwen, He knows all about you.” + +“Then what do you think of Him, just because He's big and strong, +treating a little girl that way?” Then she added, viciously: “I hate +Him! I don't care! I hate Him!” + +But The Pilot did not wince. I wondered how he would solve that problem +that was puzzling, not only Gwen, but her father and The Duke, and all +of us--the WHY of human pain. + +“Gwen,” said The Pilot, as if changing the subject, “did it hurt to put +on the plaster jacket?” + +“You just bet!” said Gwen, lapsing in her English, as The Duke was not +present; “it was worse than anything--awful! They had to straighten me +out, you know,” and she shuddered at the memory of that pain. + +“What a pity your father or The Duke was not here!” said The Pilot, +earnestly. + +“Why, they were both here!” + +“What a cruel shame!” burst out The Pilot. “Don't they care for you any +more?” + +“Of course they do,” said Gwen, indignantly. + +“Why didn't they stop the doctors from hurting you so cruelly?” + +“Why, they let the doctors. It is going to help me to sit up and perhaps +to walk about a little,” answered Gwen, with blue-gray eyes open wide. + +“Oh,” said The Pilot, “it was very mean to stand by and see you hurt +like that.” + +“Why, you silly,” replied Owen, impatiently, “they want my back to get +straight and strong.” + +“Oh, then they didn't do it just for fun or for nothing?” said The +Pilot, innocently. + +Gwen gazed at him in amazed and speechless wrath, and he went on: + +“I mean they love you though they let you be hurt; or rather they let +the doctors hurt you BECAUSE they loved you and wanted to make you +better.” + +Gwen kept her eyes fixed with curious earnestness upon his face till the +light began to dawn. + +“Do you mean,” she began slowly, “that though God let me fall, He loves +me?” + +The Pilot nodded; he could not trust his voice. + +“I wonder if that can be true,” she said, as if to herself; and soon +we said good-by and came away--The Pilot, limp and voiceless, but I +triumphant, for I began to see a little light for Gwen. + +But the fight was by no means over; indeed, it was hardly well begun. +For when the autumn came, with its misty, purple days, most glorious of +all days in the cattle country, the old restlessness came back and the +fierce refusal of her lot. Then came the day of the round-up. Why should +she have to stay while all went after the cattle? The Duke would +have remained, but she impatiently sent him away. She was weary and +heart-sick, and, worst of all, she began to feel that most terrible of +burdens, the burden of her life to others. I was much relieved when The +Pilot came in fresh and bright, waving a bunch of wild-flowers in his +hand. + +“I thought they were all gone,” he cried. “Where do you think I found +them? Right down by the big elm root,” and, though he saw by the +settled gloom of her face that the storm was coming, he went bravely on +picturing the canyon in all the splendor of its autumn dress. But the +spell would not work. Her heart was out on the sloping hills, where the +cattle were bunching and crowding with tossing heads and rattling horns, +and it was in a voice very bitter and impatient that she cried: + +“Oh, I am sick of all this! I want to ride! I want to see the cattle +and the men and--and--and all the things outside.” The Pilot was cowboy +enough to know the longing that tugged at her heart for one wild race +after the calves or steers, but he could only say: + +“Wait, Gwen. Try to be patient.” + +“I am patient; at least I have been patient for two whole months, and +it's no use, and I don't believe God cares one bit!” + +“Yes, He does, Gwen, more than any of us,” replied The Pilot, earnestly. + +“No, He does not care,” she answered, with angry emphasis, and The Pilot +made no reply. + +“Perhaps,” she went on, hesitatingly, “He's angry because I said I +didn't care for Him, you remember? That was very wicked. But don't you +think I'm punished nearly enough now? You made me very angry, and I +didn't really mean it.” + +Poor Gwen! God had grown to be very real to her during these weeks +of pain, and very terrible. The Pilot looked down a moment into the +blue-gray eyes, grown so big and so pitiful, and hurriedly dropping on +his knees beside the bed he said, in a very unsteady voice: + +“Oh, Gwen, Gwen, He's not like that. Don't you remember how Jesus was +with the poor sick people? That's what He's like.” + +“Could Jesus make me well?” + +“Yes, Gwen.” + +“Then why doesn't He?” she asked; and there was no impatience now, but +only trembling anxiety as she went on in a timid voice: “I asked Him to, +over and over, and said I would wait two months, and now it's more than +three. Are you quite sure He hears now?” She raised herself on her elbow +and gazed searchingly into The Pilot's face. I was glad it was not into +mine. As she uttered the words, “Are you quite sure?” one felt that +things were in the balance. I could not help looking at The Pilot with +intense anxiety. What would he answer? The Pilot gazed out of the window +upon the hills for a few moments. How long the silence seemed! Then, +turning, looked into the eyes that searched his so steadily and answered +simply: + +“Yes, Gwen, I am quite sure!” Then, with quick inspiration, he got her +mother's Bible and said: “Now, Gwen, try to see it as I read.” But, +before he read, with the true artist's instinct he created the proper +atmosphere. By a few vivid words he made us feel the pathetic +loneliness of the Man of Sorrows in His last sad days. Then he read that +masterpiece of all tragic picturing, the story of Gethsemane. And as he +read we saw it all. The garden and the trees and the sorrow-stricken +Man alone with His mysterious agony. We heard the prayer so pathetically +submissive and then, for answer, the rabble and the traitor. + +Gwen was far too quick to need explanation, and The Pilot only said, +“You see, Gwen, God gave nothing but the best--to His own Son only the +best.” + +“The best? They took Him away, didn't they?” She knew the story well. + +“Yes, but listen.” He turned the leaves rapidly and read: “'We see Jesus +for the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor.' That is how He +got His Kingdom.” + +Gwen listened silent but unconvinced, and then said slowly: + +“But how can this be best for me? I am no use to anyone. It can't be +best to just lie here and make them all wait on me, and--and--I did +want to help daddy--and--oh--I know they will get tired of me! They are +getting tired already--I--I--can't help being hateful.” + +She was by this time sobbing as I had never heard her before--deep, +passionate sobs. Then again the Pilot had an inspiration. + +“Now, Gwen,” he said severely, “you know we're not as mean as that, and +that you are just talking nonsense, every word. Now I'm going to smooth +out your red hair and tell you a story.” + +“It's NOT red,” she cried, between her sobs. This was her sore point. + +“It is red, as red can be; a beautiful, shining purple RED,” said The +Pilot emphatically, beginning to brush. + +“Purple!” cried Gwen, scornfully. + +“Yes, I've seen it in the sun, purple. Haven't you?” said The Pilot, +appealing to me. “And my story is about the canyon, our canyon, your +canyon, down there.” + +“Is it true?” asked Gwen, already soothed by the cool, quick-moving +hands. + +“True? It's as true as--as--” he glanced round the room, “as the +Pilgrim's Progress.” This was satisfactory, and the story went on. + +“At first there were no canyons, but only the broad, open prairie. One +day the Master of the Prairie, walking out over his great lawns, where +were only grasses, asked the Prairie, 'Where are your flowers?' and the +Prairie said, 'Master, I have no seeds.' Then he spoke to the birds, +and they carried seeds of every kind of flower and strewed them far and +wide, and soon the Prairie bloomed with crocuses and roses and buffalo +beans and the yellow crowfoot and the wild sunflowers and the red lilies +all the summer long. Then the Master came and was well pleased; but he +missed the flowers he loved best of all, and he said to the Prairie: +'Where are the clematis and the columbine, the sweet violets and wind +flowers, and all the ferns and flowering shrubs?' And again he spoke to +the birds, and again they carried all the seeds and strewed them far and +wide. But, again, when the Master came, he could not find the flowers he +loved best of all, and he said: 'Where are those, my sweetest flowers?' +and the Prairie cried sorrowfully: 'Oh, Master, I cannot keep the +flowers, for the winds sweep fiercely, and the sun beats upon my +breast, and they wither up and fly away.' Then the Master spoke to the +Lightning, and with one swift blow the Lightning cleft the Prairie to +the heart. And the Prairie rocked and groaned in agony, and for many a +day moaned bitterly over its black, jagged, gaping wound. But the Little +Swan poured its waters through the cleft, and carried down deep black +mould, and once more the birds carried seeds and strewed them in the +canyon. And after a long time the rough rocks were decked out with soft +mosses and trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung with clematis +and columbine, and great elms lifted their huge tops high up into +the sunlight, and down about their feet clustered the low cedars and +balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flower and maiden-hair grew +and bloomed, till the canyon became the Masters place for rest and peace +and joy.” + +The quaint tale was ended, and Gwen lay quiet for some moments, then +said gently: + +“Yes! The canyon flowers are much the best. Tell me what it means.” + +Then The Pilot read to her: “The fruits--I'll read 'flowers'--of the +Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, +faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these grow only in the +canyon.” + +“Which are the canyon flowers?” asked Gwen softly, and The Pilot +answered: + +“Gentleness, meekness, self-control; but though the others, love, joy, +peace, bloom in the open, yet never with so rich a bloom and so sweet a +perfume as in the canyon.” + +For a long time Gwen lay quite still, and then said wistfully, while her +lip trembled: + +“There are no flowers in my canyon, but only ragged rocks.” + +“Some day they will bloom, Gwen dear; He will find them, and we, too, +shall see them.” + +Then he said good-by and took me away. He had done his work that day. + +We rode through the big gate, down the sloping hill, past the smiling, +twinkling little lake, and down again out of the broad sunshine into +the shadows and soft lights of the canyon. As we followed the trail +that wound among the elms and cedars, the very air was full of gentle +stillness; and as we moved we seemed to feel the touch of loving hands +that lingered while they left us, and every flower and tree and vine +and shrub and the soft mosses and the deep-bedded ferns whispered, as we +passed, of love and peace and joy. + +To The Duke it was all a wonder, for as the days shortened outside they +brightened inside; and every day, and more and more Gwen's room became +the brightest spot in all the house, and when he asked The Pilot: + +“What did you do to the Little Princess, and what's all this about the +canyon and its flowers?” The Pilot said, looking wistfully into The +Duke's eyes: + +“The fruits of the Spirit are love, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, +goodness, faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these are found +only in the canyon,” and The Duke, standing up straight, handsome and +strong, looked back at The Pilot and said, putting out his hand: + +“Do you know, I believe you're right.” + +“Yes, I'm quite sure,” answered The Pilot, simply. Then, holding The +Duke's hand as long as one man dare hold another's, he added: “When you +come to your canyon, remember.” + +“When I come!” said The Duke, and a quick spasm of pain passed over his +handsome face--“God help me, it's not too far away now.” Then he smiled +again his old, sweet smile, and said: + +“Yes, you are all right, for, of all flowers I have seen, none are +fairer or sweeter than those that are waving in Gwen's Canyon.” + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BILL'S BLUFF + + +The Pilot had set his heart upon the building of a church in the Swan +Creek district, partly because he was human and wished to set a mark +of remembrance upon the country, but more because he held the sensible +opinion, that a congregation, as a man, must have a home if it is to +stay. + +All through the summer he kept setting this as an object at once +desirable and possible to achieve. But few were found to agree with him. + +Little Mrs. Muir was of the few, and she was not to be despised, but her +influence was neutralized by the solid immobility of her husband. He had +never done anything sudden in his life. Every resolve was the result of +a long process of mind, and every act of importance had to be previewed +from all possible points. An honest man, strongly religious, and a great +admirer of The Pilot, but slow-moving as a glacier, although with plenty +of fire in him deep down. + +“He's soond at the hairt, ma man Robbie,” his wife said to The Pilot, +who was fuming and fretting at the blocking of his plans, “but he's +terrible deleeberate. Bide ye a bit, laddie. He'll come tae.” + +“But meantime the summer's going and nothing will be done,” was The +Pilot's distressed and impatient answer. + +So a meeting was called to discuss the question of building a church, +with the result that the five men and three women present decided that +for the present nothing could be done. This was really Robbie's opinion, +though he refused to do or say anything but grunt, as The Pilot said +to me afterwards, in a rage. It is true, Williams, the storekeeper just +come from “across the line,” did all the talking, but no one paid +much attention to his fluent fatuities except as they represented the +unexpressed mind of the dour, exasperating little Scotchman, who sat +silent but for an “ay” now and then, so expressive and conclusive that +everyone knew what he meant, and that discussion was at an end. The +schoolhouse was quite sufficient for the present; the people were too +few and too poor and they were getting on well under the leadership of +their present minister. These were the arguments which Robbie's “ay” + stamped as quite unanswerable. + +It was a sore blow to The Pilot, who had set his heart upon a church, +and neither Mrs. Muir's “hoots” at her husband's slowness nor her +promises that she “wad mak him hear it” could bring comfort or relieve +his gloom. + +In this state of mind he rode up with me to pay our weekly visit to the +little girl shut up in her lonely house among the hills. + +It had become The Pilot's custom during these weeks to turn for cheer to +that little room, and seldom was he disappointed. She was so bright, so +brave, so cheery, and so full of fun, that gloom faded from her presence +as mist before the sun, and impatience was shamed into content. + +Gwen's bright face--it was almost always bright now--and her bright +welcome did something for The Pilot, but the feeling of failure was upon +him, and failure to his enthusiastic nature was worse than pain. Not +that he confessed either to failure or gloom; he was far too true a +man for that; but Gwen felt his depression in spite of all his brave +attempts at brightness, and insisted that he was ill, appealing to me. + +“Oh, it's only his church,” I said, proceeding to give her an account +of Robbie Muir's silent, solid inertness, and how he had blocked The +Pilot's scheme. + +“What a shame!” cried Gwen, indignantly. “What a bad man he must be!” + +The Pilot smiled. “No, indeed,” he answered; “why, he's the best man in +the place, but I wish he would say or do something. If he would only get +mad and swear I think I should feel happier.” + +Gwen looked quite mystified. + +“You see, he sits there in solemn silence looking so tremendously wise +that most men feel foolish if they speak, while as for doing anything +the idea appears preposterous, in the face of his immovableness.” + +“I can't bear him!” cried Gwen. “I should like to stick pins in him.” + +“I wish some one would,” answered The Pilot. “It would make him seem +more human if he could be made to jump.” + +“Try again,” said Gwen, “and get someone to make him jump.” + +“It would be easier to build the church,” said The Pilot, gloomily. + +“I could make him jump,” said Gwen, viciously, “and I WILL,” she added, +after a pause. + +“You!” answered The Pilot, opening his eyes. “How?” + +“I'll find some way,” she replied, resolutely. + +And so she did, for when the next meeting was called to consult as to +the building of a church, the congregation, chiefly of farmers and their +wives, with Williams, the storekeeper, were greatly surprised to see +Bronco Bill, Hi, and half a dozen ranchers and cowboys walk in at +intervals and solemnly seat themselves. Robbie looked at them with +surprise and a little suspicion. In church matters he had no dealings +with the Samaritans from the hills, and while, in their unregenerate +condition, they might be regarded as suitable objects of missionary +effort, as to their having any part in the direction, much less control, +of the church policy--from such a notion Robbie was delivered by his +loyal adherence to the scriptural injunction that he should not cast +pearls before swine. + +The Pilot, though surprised to see Bill and the cattle men, was none the +less delighted, and faced the meeting with more confidence. He stated +the question for discussion: Should a church building be erected this +summer in Swan Creek? and he put his case well. He showed the need of a +church for the sake of the congregation, for the sake of the men in the +district, the families growing up, the incoming settlers, and for the +sake of the country and its future. He called upon all who loved their +church and their country to unite in this effort. It was an enthusiastic +appeal and all the women and some of the men were at once upon his side. + +Then followed dead, solemn silence. Robbie was content to wait till +the effect of the speech should be dissipated in smaller talk. Then he +gravely said: + +“The kirk wad be a gran' thing, nae doot, an' they wad a' +dootless”--with a suspicious glance toward Bill--“rejoice in its +erection. But we maun be cautious, an' I wad like to enquire hoo much +money a kirk cud be built for, and whaur the money wad come frae?” + +The Pilot was ready with his answer. The cost would be $1,200. The +Church Building Fund would contribute $200, the people could give $300 +in labor, and the remaining $700 he thought could be raised in the +district in two years' time. + +“Ay,” said Robbie, and the tone and manner were sufficient to drench any +enthusiasm with the chilliest of water. So much was this the case that +the chairman, Williams, seemed quite justified in saying: + +“It is quite evident that the opinion of the meeting is adverse to any +attempt to load the community with a debt of one thousand dollars,” + and he proceeded with a very complete statement of the many and various +objections to any attempt at building a church this year. The people +were very few, they were dispersed over a large area, they were not +interested sufficiently, they were all spending money and making little +in return; he supposed, therefore, that the meeting might adjourn. + +Robbie sat silent and expressionless in spite of his little wife's +anxious whispers and nudges. The Pilot looked the picture of woe, and +was on the point of bursting forth, when the meeting was startled by +Bill. + +“Say, boys! they hain't much stuck on their shop, heh?” The low, +drawling voice was perfectly distinct and arresting. + +“Hain't got no use for it, seemingly,” was the answer from the dark +corner. + +“Old Scotchie takes his religion out in prayin', I guess,” drawled in +Bill, “but wants to sponge for his plant.” + +This reference to Robbie's proposal to use the school moved the +youngsters to tittering and made the little Scotchman squirm, for he +prided himself upon his independence. + +“There ain't $700 in the hull blanked outfit.” This was a stranger's +voice, and again Robbie squirmed, for he rather prided himself also on +his ability to pay his way. + +“No good!” said another emphatic voice. “A blanked lot o' psalm-singing +snipes.” + +“Order, order!” cried the chairman. + +“Old Windbag there don't see any show for swipin' the collection, with +Scotchie round,” said Hi, with a following ripple of quiet laughter, for +Williams' reputation was none too secure. + +Robbie was in a most uncomfortable state of mind. So unusually stirred +was he that for the first time in his history he made a motion. + +“I move we adjourn, Mr. Chairman,” he said, in a voice which actually +vibrated with emotion. + +“Different here! eh, boys?” drawled Bill. + +“You bet,” said Hi, in huge delight. “The meetin' ain't out yit.” + +“Ye can bide till mor-r-nin',” said Robbie, angrily. “A'm gaen hame,” + beginning to put on his coat. + +“Seems as if he orter give the password,” drawled Bill. + +“Right you are, pardner,” said Hi, springing to the door and waiting in +delighted expectation for his friend's lead. + +Robbie looked at the door, then at his wife, hesitated a moment, I have +no doubt wishing her home. Then Bill stood up and began to speak. + +“Mr. Chairman, I hain't been called on for any remarks--” + +“Go on!” yelled his friends from the dark corner. “Hear! hear!” + +“An' I didn't feel as if this war hardly my game, though The Pilot ain't +mean about invitin' a feller on Sunday afternoons. But them as runs the +shop don't seem to want us fellers round too much.” + +Robbie was gazing keenly at Bill, and here shook his head, muttering +angrily: “Hoots, nonsense! ye're welcome eneuch.” + +“But,” went on Bill, slowly, “I guess I've been on the wrong track. +I've been a-cherishin' the opinion” [“Hear! hear!” yelled his admirers], +“cherishin' the opinion,” repeated Bill, “that these fellers,” pointing +to Robbie, “was stuck on religion, which I ain't much myself, and reely +consarned about the blocking ov the devil, which The Pilot says can't be +did without a regular Gospel factory. O' course, it tain't any biznis +ov mine, but if us fellers was reely only sot on anything condoocin',” + [“Hear! hear!” yelled Hi, in ecstasy], “condoocin',” repeated Bill +slowly and with relish, “to the good ov the Order” (Bill was a +brotherhood man), “I b'lieve I know whar five hundred dollars mebbe cud +per'aps be got.” + +“You bet your sox,” yelled the strange voice, in chorus with other +shouts of approval. + +“O' course, I ain't no bettin' man,” went on Bill, insinuatingly, “as a +regular thing, but I'd gamble a few jist here on this pint; if the boys +was stuck on anythin' costin' about seven hundred dollars, it seems to +me likely they'd git it in about two days, per'aps.” + +Here Robbie grunted out an “ay” of such fulness of contemptuous unbelief +that Bill paused, and, looking over Robbie's head, he drawled out, even +more slowly and mildly: + +“I ain't much given to bettin', as I remarked before, but, if a man +shakes money at me on that proposition, I'd accommodate him to a limited +extent.” [“Hear! hear! Bully boy!” yelled Hi again, from the door.] “Not +bein' too bold, I cherish the opinion” [again yells of approval from +the corner], “that even for this here Gospel plant, seein' The Pilot's +rather sot onto it, I b'lieve the boys could find five hundred dollars +inside ov a month, if perhaps these fellers cud wiggle the rest out ov +their pants.” + +Then Robbie was in great wrath and, stung by the taunting, drawling +voice beyond all self-command, he broke out suddenly: + +“Ye'll no can mak that guid, I doot.” + +“D'ye mean I ain't prepared to back it up?” + +“Ay,” said Robbie, grimly. + +“'Tain't likely I'll be called on; I guess $500 is safe enough,” drawled +Bill, cunningly drawing him on. Then Robbie bit. + +“Oo ay!” said he, in a voice of quiet contempt, “the twa hunner wull be +here and 'twull wait ye long eneuch, I'se warrant ye.” + +Then Bill nailed him. + +“I hain't got my card case on my person,” he said, with a slight grin. + +“Left it on the pianner,” suggested Hi, who was in a state of great +hilarity at Bill's success in drawing the Scottie. + +“But,” Bill proceeded, recovering himself, and with increasing suavity, +“if some gentleman would mark down the date of the almanac I cherish the +opinion” [cheers from the corner] “that in one month from to-day there +will be five hundred dollars lookin' round for two hundred on that there +desk mebbe, or p'raps you would incline to two fifty,” he drawled, in +his most winning tone to Robbie, who was growing more impatient every +moment. + +“Nae matter tae me. Ye're haverin' like a daft loon, ony way.” + +“You will make a memento of this slight transaction, boys, and per'aps +the schoolmaster will write it down,” said Bill. + +It was all carefully taken down, and amid much enthusiastic confusion +the ranchers and their gang carried Bill off to Old Latour's to “licker +up,” while Robbie, in deep wrath but in dour silence, went off through +the dark with his little wife following some paces behind him. His +chief grievance, however, was against the chairman for “allooin' sic a +disorderly pack o' loons tae disturb respectable fowk,” for he could +not hide the fact that he had been made to break through his accustomed +defence line of immovable silence. I suggested, conversing with him next +day upon the matter, that Bill was probably only chaffing. + +“Ay,” said Robbie, in great disgust, “the daft eejut, he wad mak a fule +o' onything or onybuddie.” + +That was the sorest point with poor Robbie. Bill had not only cast +doubts upon his religious sincerity, which the little man could not +endure, but he had also held him up to the ridicule of the community, +which was painful to his pride. But when he understood, some days later, +that Bill was taking steps to back up his offer and had been heard to +declare that “he'd make them pious ducks take water if he had to put up +a year's pay,” Robbie went quietly to work to make good his part of the +bargain. For his Scotch pride would not suffer him to refuse a challenge +from such a quarter. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +BILL'S PARTNER + + +The next day everyone was talking of Bill's bluffing the church people, +and there was much quiet chuckling over the discomfiture of Robbie Muir +and his party. + +The Pilot was equally distressed and bewildered, for Bill's conduct, so +very unusual, had only one explanation--the usual one for any folly in +that country. + +“I wish he had waited till after the meeting to go to Latour's. He +spoiled the last chance I had. There's no use now,” he said, sadly. + +“But he may do something,” I suggested. + +“Oh, fiddle!” said The Pilot, contemptuously. “He was only giving Muir +'a song and dance,' as he would say. The whole thing is off.” + +But when I told Gwen the story of the night's proceedings, she went into +raptures over Bill's grave speech and his success in drawing the canny +Scotchman. + +“Oh, lovely! dear old Bill and his 'cherished opinion.' Isn't he just +lovely? Now he'll do something.” + +“Who, Bill?” + +“No, that stupid Scottie.” This was her name for the immovable Robbie. + +“Not he, I'm afraid. Of course Bill was just bluffing him. But it was +good sport.” + +“Oh, lovely! I knew he'd do something.” + +“Who? Scottie?” I asked, for her pronouns were perplexing. + +“No!” she cried, “Bill! He promised he would, you know,” she added. + +“So you were at the bottom of it?” I said, amazed. + +“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” she kept crying, shrieking with laughter over +Bill's cherishing opinions and desires. “I shall be ill. Dear old Bill. +He said he'd 'try to get a move on to him.'” + +Before I left that day, Bill himself came to the Old Timer's ranch, +inquiring in a casual way “if the 'boss' was in.” + +“Oh, Bill!” called out Gwen, “come in here at once; I want you.” + +After some delay and some shuffling with hat and spurs, Bill lounged +in and set his lank form upon the extreme end of a bench at the door, +trying to look unconcerned as he remarked: “Gittin' cold. Shouldn't +wonder if we'd have a little snow.” + +“Oh, come here,” cried Gwen, impatiently, holding out her hand. “Come +here and shake hands.” + +Bill hesitated, spat out into the other room his quid of tobacco, and +swayed awkwardly across the room toward the bed, and, taking Gwen's +hand, he shook it up and down, and hurriedly said: + +“Fine day, ma'am; hope I see you quite well.” + +“No; you don't,” cried Gwen, laughing immoderately, but keeping hold +of Bill's hand, to his great confusion. “I'm not well a bit, but I'm a +great deal better since hearing of your meeting, Bill.” + +To this Bill made no reply, being entirely engrossed in getting his +hard, bony, brown hand out of the grasp of the white, clinging fingers. + +“Oh, Bill,” went on Gwen, “it was delightful! How did you do it?” + +But Bill, who had by this time got back to his seat at the door, +pretended ignorance of any achievement calling for remark. He “hadn't +done nothin' more out ov the way than usual.” + +“Oh, don't talk nonsense!” cried Gwen, impatiently. “Tell me how you got +Scottie to lay you two hundred and fifty dollars.” + +“Oh, that!” said Bill, in great surprise; “that ain't nuthin' much. +Scottie riz slick enough.” + +“But how did you get him?” persisted Gwen. “Tell me, Bill,” she added, +in her most coaxing voice. + +“Well,” said Bill, “it was easy as rollin' off a log. I made the remark +as how the boys ginerally put up for what they wanted without no fuss, +and that if they was sot on havin' a Gospel shack I cherished the +opinion”--here Gwen went off into a smothered shriek, which made Bill +pause and look at her in alarm. + +“Go on,” she gasped. + +“I cherished the opinion,” drawled on Bill, while Gwen stuck her +handkerchief into her mouth, “that mebbe they'd put up for it the seven +hundred dollars, and, even as it was, seein' as The Pilot appeared to be +sot on to it, if them fellers would find two hundred and fifty I cher--” + another shriek from Gwen cut him suddenly short. + +“It's the rheumaticks, mebbe,” said Bill, anxiously. “Terrible bad +weather for 'em. I get 'em myself.” + +“No, no,” said Gwen, wiping away her tears and subduing her laughter. +“Go on, Bill.” + +“There ain't no more,” said Bill. “He bit, and the master here put it +down.” + +“Yes, it's here right enough,” I said, “but I don't suppose you mean to +follow it up, do you?” + +“You don't, eh? Well, I am not responsible for your supposin', but them +that is familiar with Bronco Bill generally expects him to back up his +undertakin's.” + +“But how in the world can you get five hundred dollars from the cowboys +for a church?” + +“I hain't done the arithmetic yet, but it's safe enough. You see, it +ain't the church altogether, it's the reputation of the boys.” + +“I'll help, Bill,” said Gwen. + +Bill nodded his head slowly and said: “Proud to have you,” trying hard +to look enthusiastic. + +“You don't think I can,” said Gwen. Bill protested against such an +imputation. “But I can. I'll get daddy and The Duke, too.” + +“Good line!” said Bill, slapping his knee. + +“And I'll give all my money, too, but it isn't very much,” she added, +sadly. + +“Much!” said Bill, “if the rest of the fellows play up to that lead +there won't be any trouble about that five hundred.” + +Gwen was silent for some time, then said with an air of resolve: + +“I'll give my pinto!” + +“Nonsense!” I exclaimed, while Bill declared “there warn't no call.” + +“Yes. I'll give the Pinto!” said Gwen, decidedly. “I'll not need him any +more,” her lips quivered, and Bill coughed and spat into the next room, +“and besides, I want to give something I like. And Bill will sell him +for me!” + +“Well,” said Bill, slowly, “now come to think, it'll be purty hard to +sell that there pinto.” Gwen began to exclaim indignantly, and Bill +hurried on to say, “Not but what he ain't a good leetle horse for his +weight, good leetle horse, but for cattle--” + +“Why, Bill, there isn't a better cattle horse anywhere!” + +“Yes, that's so,” assented Bill. “That's so, if you've got the rider, +but put one of them rangers on to him and it wouldn't be no fair show.” + Bill was growing more convinced every moment that the pinto wouldn't +sell to any advantage. “Ye see,” he explained carefully and cunningly, +“he ain't a horse you could yank round and slam into a bunch of steers +regardless.” + +Gwen shuddered. “Oh, I wouldn't think of selling him to any of those +cowboys.” Bill crossed his legs and hitched round uncomfortably on his +bench. “I mean one of those rough fellows that don't know how to treat +a horse.” Bill nodded, looking relieved. “I thought that some one like +you, Bill, who knew how to handle a horse--” + +Gwen paused, and then added: “I'll ask The Duke.” + +“No call for that,” said Bill, hastily, “not but what The Dook ain't all +right as a jedge of a horse, but The Dook ain't got the connection, it +ain't his line.” Bill hesitated. “But, if you are real sot on to sellin' +that pinto, come to think I guess I could find a sale for him, though, +of course, I think perhaps the figger won't be high.” + +And so it was arranged that the pinto should be sold and that Bill +should have the selling of it. + +It was characteristic of Gwen that she would not take farewell of the +pony on whose back she had spent so many hours of freedom and delight. +When once she gave him up she refused to allow her heart to cling to him +any more. + +It was characteristic, too, of Bill that he led off the pinto after +night had fallen, so that “his pardner” might be saved the pain of the +parting. + +“This here's rather a new game for me, but when my pardner,” here he +jerked his head towards Gwen's window, “calls for trumps, I'm blanked if +I don't throw my highest, if it costs a leg.” + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +BILL'S FINANCING + + +Bill's method of conducting the sale of the pinto was eminently +successful as a financial operation, but there are those in the Swan +Creek country who have never been able to fathom the mystery attaching +to the affair. It was at the fall round-up, the beef round-up, as it +is called, which this year ended at the Ashley Ranch. There were +representatives from all the ranches and some cattle-men from across +the line. The hospitality of the Ashley Ranch was up to its own +lofty standard, and, after supper, the men were in a state of high +exhilaration. The Hon. Fred and his wife, Lady Charlotte, gave +themselves to the duties of their position as hosts for the day with a +heartiness and grace beyond praise. After supper the men gathered round +the big fire, which was piled up before the long, low shed, which stood +open in front. It was a scene of such wild and picturesque interest as +can only be witnessed in the western ranching country. About the fire, +most of them wearing “shaps” and all of them wide, hard-brimmed cowboy +hats, the men grouped themselves, some reclining upon skins thrown upon +the ground, some standing, some sitting, smoking, laughing, chatting, +all in highest spirits and humor. They had just got through with their +season of arduous and, at times, dangerous toil. Their minds were full +of their long, hard rides, their wild and varying experiences with mad +cattle and bucking broncos, their anxious watchings through hot nights, +when a breath of wind or a coyote's howl might set the herd off in +a frantic stampede, their wolf hunts and badger fights and all the +marvellous adventures that fill up a cowboy's summer. Now these were all +behind them. To-night they were free men and of independent means, for +their season's pay was in their pockets. The day's excitement, too, was +still in their blood, and they were ready for anything. + +Bill, as king of the bronco-busters, moved about with the slow, careless +indifference of a man sure of his position and sure of his ability to +maintain it. + +He spoke seldom and slowly, was not as ready-witted as his partner, Hi +Kendal, but in act he was swift and sure, and “in trouble” he could +be counted on. He was, as they said, “a white man; white to the back,” + which was understood to sum up the true cattle man's virtues. + +“Hello, Bill,” said a friend, “where's Hi? Hain't seen him around!” + +“Well, don't jest know. He was going to bring up my pinto.” + +“Your pinto? What pinto's that? You hain't got no pinto!” + +“Mebbe not,” said Bill, slowly, “but I had the idee before you spoke +that I had.” + +“That so? Whar'd ye git him? Good for cattle?” The crowd began to +gather. + +Bill grew mysterious, and even more than usually reserved. + +“Good fer cattle! Well, I ain't much on gamblin', but I've got a leetle +in my pants that says that there pinto kin outwork any blanked bronco in +this outfit, givin' him a fair show after the cattle.” + +The men became interested. + +“Whar was he raised?” + +“Dunno.” + +“Whar'd ye git him? Across the line?” + +“No,” said Bill stoutly, “right in this here country. The Dook there +knows him.” + +This at once raised the pinto several points. To be known, and, as +Bill's tone indicated, favorably known by The Duke, was a testimonial to +which any horse might aspire. + +“Whar'd ye git him, Bill? Don't be so blanked oncommunicatin'!” said an +impatient voice. + +Bill hesitated; then, with an apparent burst of confidence, he assumed +his frankest manner and voice, and told his tale. + +“Well,” he said, taking a fresh chew and offering his plug to his +neighbor, who passed it on after helping himself, “ye see, it was like +this. Ye know that little Meredith gel?” + +Chorus of answers: “Yes! The red-headed one. I know! She's a +daisy!--reg'lar blizzard!--lightnin' conductor!” + +Bill paused, stiffened himself a little, dropped his frank air and +drawled out in cool, hard tones: “I might remark that that young lady +is, I might persoom to say, a friend of mine, which I'm prepared to back +up in my best style, and if any blanked blanked son of a street sweeper +has any remark to make, here's his time now!” + +In the pause that followed murmurs were heard extolling the many +excellences of the young lady in question, and Bill, appeased, yielded +to the requests for the continuance of his story, and, as he described +Gwen and her pinto and her work on the ranch, the men, many of whom had +had glimpses of her, gave emphatic approval in their own way. But as he +told of her rescue of Joe and of the sudden calamity that had befallen +her a great stillness fell upon the simple, tender-hearted fellows, +and they listened with their eyes shining in the firelight with growing +intentness. Then Bill spoke of The Pilot and how he stood by her and +helped her and cheered her till they began to swear he was “all right”; +“and now,” concluded Bill, “when The Pilot is in a hole she wants to +help him out.” + +“O' course,” said one. “Right enough. How's she going to work it?” said +another. + +“Well, he's dead set on to buildin' a meetin'-house, and them fellows +down at the Creek that does the prayin' and such don't seem to back him +up!” + +“Whar's the kick, Bill?” + +“Oh, they don't want to go down into their clothes and put up for it.” + +“How much?” + +“Why, he only asked 'em for seven hundred the hull outfit, and would +give 'em two years, but they bucked--wouldn't look at it.” + +[Chorus of expletives descriptive of the characters and personal +appearance and belongings of the congregation of Swan Creek.] + +“Were you there, Bill? What did you do?” + +“Oh,” said Bill, modestly, “I didn't do much. Gave 'em a little bluff.” + +“No! How? What? Go on, Bill.” + +But Bill remained silent, till under strong pressure, and, as if making +a clean breast of everything, he said: + +“Well, I jest told 'em that if you boys made such a fuss about anythin' +like they did about their Gospel outfit, an' I ain't sayin' anythin' +agin it, you'd put up seven hundred without turnin' a hair.” + +“You're the stuff, Bill! Good man! You're talkin' now! What did they say +to that, eh, Bill?” + +“Well,” said Bill, slowly, “they CALLED me!” + +“No! That so? An' what did you do, Bill?” + +“Gave 'em a dead straight bluff!” + +[Yells of enthusiastic approval.] + +“Did they take you, Bill?” + +“Well, I reckon they did. The master, here, put it down.” + +Whereupon I read the terms of Bill's bluff. + +There was a chorus of very hearty approvals of Bill's course in “not +taking any water” from that variously characterized “outfit.” But the +responsibility of the situation began to dawn upon them when some one +asked: + +“How are you going about it, Bill?” + +“Well,” drawled Bill, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, “there's +that pinto.” + +“Pinto be blanked!” said young Hill. “Say, boys, is that little girl +going to lose that one pony of hers to help out her friend The Pilot? +Good fellow, too, he is! We know he's the right sort.” + +[Chorus of, “Not by a long sight; not much; we'll put up the stuff! +Pinto!”] + +“Then,” went on Bill, even more slowly, “there's The Pilot; he's going +for to ante up a month's pay; 'taint much, o' course--twenty-eight a +month and grub himself. He might make it two,” he added, thoughtfully. +But Bill's proposal was scorned with contemptuous groans. “Twenty-eight +a month and grub himself o' course ain't much for a man to save money +out ov to eddicate himself.” Bill continued, as if thinking aloud, “O' +course he's got his mother at home, but she can't make much more than +her own livin', but she might help him some.” + +This was altogether too much for the crowd. They consigned Bill and his +plans to unutterable depths of woe. + +“O' course,” Bill explained, “it's jest as you boys feel about it. Mebbe +I was, bein' hot, a little swift in givin' 'em the bluff.” + +“Not much, you wasn't! We'll see you out! That's the talk! There's +between twenty and thirty of us here.” + +“I should be glad to contribute thirty or forty if need be,” said The +Duke, who was standing not far off, “to assist in the building of a +church. It would be a good thing, and I think the parson should be +encouraged. He's the right sort.” + +“I'll cover your thirty,” said young Hill; and so it went from one to +another in tens and fifteens and twenties, till within half an hour I +had entered three hundred and fifty dollars in my book, with Ashley yet +to hear from, which meant fifty more. It was Bill's hour of triumph. + +“Boys,” he said, with solemn emphasis, “ye're all white. But that leetle +pale-faced gel, that's what I'm thinkin' on. Won't she open them big +eyes ov hers! I cherish the opinion that this'll tickle her some.” + +The men were greatly pleased with Bill and even more pleased with +themselves. Bill's picture of the “leetle gel” and her pathetically +tragic lot had gone right to their hearts and, with men of that stamp, +it was one of their few luxuries to yield to their generous impulses. +The most of them had few opportunities of lavishing love and sympathy +upon worthy objects and, when the opportunity came, all that was best in +them clamored for expression. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HOW THE PINTO SOLD + + +The glow of virtuous feeling following the performance of their generous +act prepared the men for a keener enjoyment than usual of a night's +sport. They had just begun to dispose themselves in groups about the +fire for poker and other games when Hi rode up into the light and with +him a stranger on Gwen's beautiful pinto pony. + +Hi was evidently half drunk and, as he swung himself of his bronco, +he saluted the company with a wave of the hand and hoped he saw them +“kickin'.” + +Bill, looking curiously at Hi, went up to the pinto and, taking him by +the head, led him up into the light, saying: + +“See here, boys, there's that pinto of mine I was telling you about; no +flies on him, eh?” + +“Hold on there! Excuse me!” said the stranger, “this here hoss belongs +to me, if paid-down money means anything in this country.” + +“The country's all right,” said Bill in an ominously quiet voice, “but +this here pinto's another transaction, I reckon.” + +“The hoss is mine, I say, and what's more, I'm goin' to hold him,” said +the stranger in a loud voice. + +The men began to crowd around with faces growing hard. It was dangerous +in that country to play fast and loose with horses. + +“Look a-hyar, mates,” said the stranger, with a Yankee drawl, “I ain't +no hoss thief, and if I hain't bought this hoss reg'lar and paid down +good money then it ain't mine--if I have it is. That's fair, ain't it?” + +At this Hi pulled himself together, and in a half-drunken tone declared +that the stranger was all right, and that he had bought the horse fair +and square, and “there's your dust,” said Hi, handing a roll to Bill. +But with a quick movement Bill caught the stranger by the leg, and, +before a word could be said, he was lying flat on the ground. + +“You git off that pony,” said Bill, “till this thing is settled.” + +There was something so terrible in Bill's manner that the man contented +himself with blustering and swearing, while Bill, turning to Hi, said: + +“Did you sell this pinto to him?” + +Hi was able to acknowledge that, being offered a good price, and knowing +that his partner was always ready for a deal, he had transferred the +pinto to the stranger for forty dollars. + +Bill was in distress, deep and poignant. “'Taint the horse, but the +leetle gel,” he explained; but his partner's bargain was his, and +wrathful as he was, he refused to attempt to break the bargain. + +At this moment the Hon. Fred, noting the unusual excitement about the +fire, came up, followed at a little distance by his wife and The Duke. + +“Perhaps he'll sell,” he suggested. + +“No,” said Bill sullenly, “he's a mean cuss.” + +“I know him,” said the Hon. Fred, “let me try him.” But the stranger +declared the pinto suited him down to the ground and he wouldn't take +twice his money for him. + +“Why,” he protested, “that there's what I call an unusual hoss, and down +in Montana for a lady he'd fetch up to a hundred and fifty dollars.” In +vain they haggled and bargained; the man was immovable. Eighty dollars +he wouldn't look at, a hundred hardly made him hesitate. At this point +Lady Charlotte came down into the light and stood by her husband, +who explained the circumstances to her. She had already heard Bill's +description of Gwen's accident and of her part in the church-building +schemes. There was silence for a few moments as she stood looking at the +beautiful pony. + +“What a shame the poor child should have to part with the dear little +creature!” she said in a low tone to her husband. Then, turning to the +stranger, she said in clear, sweet tones: + +“What do you ask for him?” He hesitated and then said, lifting his hat +awkwardly in salute: “I was just remarking how that pinto would fetch +one hundred and fifty dollars down into Montana. But seein' as a lady is +enquirin', I'll put him down to one hundred and twenty-five.” + +“Too much,” she said promptly, “far too much, is it not, Bill?” + +“Well,” drawled Bill, “if 'twere a fellar as was used to ladies he'd +offer you the pinto, but he's too pizen mean even to come down to the +even hundred.” + +The Yankee took him up quickly. “Wall, if I were so blanked--pardon, +madam”--taking off his hat, “used to ladies as some folks would like to +think themselves, I'd buy that there pinto and make a present of it to +this here lady as stands before me.” Bill twisted uneasily. + +“But I ain't goin' to be mean; I'll put that pinto in for the even money +for the lady if any man cares to put up the stuff.” + +“Well, my dear,” said the Hon. Fred with a bow, “we cannot well let that +gage lie.” She turned and smiled at him and the pinto was transferred +to the Ashley stables, to Bill's outspoken delight, who declared he +“couldn't have faced the music if that there pinto had gone across the +line.” I confess, however, I was somewhat surprised at the ease with +which Hi escaped his wrath, and my surprise was in no way lessened when +I saw, later in the evening, the two partners with the stranger taking +a quiet drink out of the same bottle with evident mutual admiration and +delight. + +“You're an A1 corker, you are! I'll be blanked if you ain't a bird--a +singin' bird--a reg'lar canary,” I heard Hi say to Bill. + +But Bill's only reply was a long, slow wink which passed into a frown +as he caught my eye. My suspicion was aroused that the sale of the pinto +might bear investigation, and this suspicion was deepened when Gwen next +week gave me a rapturous account of how splendidly Bill had disposed +of the pinto, showing me bills for one hundred and fifty dollars! To my +look of amazement, Gwen replied: + +“You see, he must have got them bidding against each other, and besides, +Bill says pintos are going up.” + +Light began to dawn upon me, but I only answered that I knew they had +risen very considerably in value within a month. The extra fifty was +Bill's. + +I was not present to witness the finishing of Bill's bluff, but was told +that when Bill made his way through the crowded aisle and laid his five +hundred and fifty dollars on the schoolhouse desk the look of disgust, +surprise and finally of pleasure on Robbie's face, was worth a hundred +more. But Robbie was ready and put down his two hundred with the single +remark: + +“Ay! ye're no as daft as ye look,” mid roars of laughter from all. + +Then The Pilot, with eyes and face shining, rose and thanked them all; +but when he told of how the little girl in her lonely shack in the hills +thought so much of the church that she gave up for it her beloved pony, +her one possession, the light from his eyes glowed in the eyes of all. + +But the men from the ranches who could understand the full meaning +of her sacrifice and who also could realize the full measure of her +calamity, were stirred to their hearts' depths, so that when Bill +remarked in a very distinct undertone, “I cherish the opinion that this +here Gospel shop wouldn't be materializin' into its present shape but +for that leetle gel,” there rose growls of approval in a variety of +tones and expletives that left no doubt that his opinion was that of +all. + +But though The Pilot never could quite get at the true inwardness of +Bill's measures and methods, and was doubtless all the more comfortable +in mind for that, he had no doubt that while Gwen's influence was the +moving spring of action, Bill's bluff had a good deal to do with +the “materializin'” of the first church in Swan Creek, and in this +conviction, I share. + +Whether the Hon. Fred ever understood the peculiar style of Bill's +financing, I do not quite know. But if he ever did come to know, he was +far too much of a man to make a fuss. Besides, I fancy the smile on his +lady's face was worth some large amount to him. At least, so the look of +proud and fond love in his eyes seemed to say as he turned away with her +from the fire the night of the pinto's sale. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LADY CHARLOTTE + + +The night of the pinto's sale was a night momentous to Gwen, for then it +was that the Lady Charlotte's interest in her began. Momentous, too, to +the Lady Charlotte, for it was that night that brought The Pilot into +her life. + +I had turned back to the fire around which the men had fallen into +groups prepared to have an hour's solid delight, for the scene was full +of wild and picturesque beauty to me, when The Duke came and touched me +on the shoulder. + +“Lady Charlotte would like to see you.” + +“And why, pray?” + +“She wants to hear about this affair of Bill's.” + +We went through the kitchen into the large dining-room, at one end of +which was a stone chimney and fireplace. Lady Charlotte had declared +that she did not much care what kind of a house the Hon. Fred would +build for her, but that she must have a fireplace. + +She was very beautiful--tall, slight and graceful in every line. There +was a reserve and a grand air in her bearing that put people in awe of +her. This awe I shared; but as I entered the room she welcomed me with +such kindly grace that I felt quite at ease in a moment. + +“Come and sit by me,” she said, drawing an armchair into the circle +about the fire. “I want you to tell us all about a great many things.” + +“You see what you're in for, Connor,” said her husband. “It is a serious +business when my lady takes one in hand.” + +“As he knows to his cost,” she said, smiling and shaking her head at her +husband. + +“So I can testify,” put in The Duke. + +“Ah! I can't do anything with you,” she replied, turning to him. + +“Your most abject slave,” he replied with a profound bow. + +“If you only were,” smiling at him--a little sadly, I thought--“I'd keep +you out of all sorts of mischief.” + +“Quite true, Duke,” said her husband, “just look at me.” + +The Duke gazed at him a moment or two. “Wonderful!” he murmured, “what a +deliverance!” + +“Nonsense!” broke in Lady Charlotte. “You are turning my mind away from +my purpose.” + +“Is it possible, do you think?” said The Duke to her husband. + +“Not in the very least,” he replied, “if my experience goes for +anything.” + +But Lady Charlotte turned her back upon them and said to me: + +“Now, tell me first about Bill's encounter with that funny little +Scotchman.” + +Then I told her the story of Bill's bluff in my best style, imitating, +as I have some small skill in doing, the manner and speech of the +various actors in the scene. She was greatly amused and interested. + +“And Bill has really got his share ready,” she cried. “It is very clever +of him.” + +“Yes,” I replied, “but Bill is only the very humble instrument, the +moving spirit is behind.” + +“Oh, yes, you mean the little girl that owns the pony,” she said. +“That's another thing you must tell me about.” + +“The Duke knows more than I,” I replied, shifting the burden to him; “my +acquaintance is only of yesterday; his is lifelong.” + +“Why have you never told me of her?” she demanded, turning to the Duke. + +“Haven't I told you of the little Meredith girl? Surely I have,” said +The Duke, hesitatingly. + +“Now, you know quite well you have not, and that means you are deeply +interested. Oh, I know you well,” she said, severely. + +“He is the most secretive man,” she went on to me, “shamefully and +ungratefully reserved.” + +The Duke smiled; then said, lazily: “Why, she's just a child. Why should +you be interested in her? No one was,” he added sadly, “till misfortune +distinguished her.” + +Her eyes grew soft, and her gay manner changed, and she said to The Duke +gently: “Tell me of her now.” + +It was evidently an effort, but he began his story of Gwen from the time +he saw her first, years ago, playing in and out of her father's rambling +shack, shy and wild as a young fox. As he went on with his tale, his +voice dropped into a low, musical tone, and he seemed as if dreaming +aloud. Unconsciously he put into the tale much of himself, revealing how +great an influence the little child had had upon him, and how empty of +love his life had been in this lonely land. Lady Charlotte listened +with face intent upon him, and even her bluff husband was conscious that +something more than usual was happening. He had never heard The Duke +break through his proud reserve before. + +But when The Duke told the story of Gwen's awful fall, which he did with +great graphic power, a little red spot burned upon the Lady Charlotte's +pale cheek, and, as The Duke finished his tale with the words, “It was +her last ride,” she covered her face with her hands and cried: + +“Oh, Duke, it is horrible to think of! But what splendid courage!” + +“Great stuff! eh, Duke?” cried the Hon. Fred, kicking a burning log +vigorously. + +But The Duke made no reply. + +“How is she now, Duke?” said Lady Charlotte. The Duke looked up as +from a dream. “Bright as the morning,” he said. Then, in reply to Lady +Charlotte's look of wonder, he added: + +“The Pilot did it. Connor will tell you. I don't understand it.” + +“Nor do I, either. But I can tell you only what I saw and heard,” I +answered. + +“Tell me,” said Lady Charlotte very gently. + +Then I told her how, one by one, we had failed to help her, and how +The Pilot had ridden up that morning through the canyon, and how he had +brought the first light and peace to her by his marvellous pictures of +the flowers and ferns and trees and all the wonderful mysteries of that +wonderful canyon. + +“But that wasn't all,” said the Duke quickly, as I stopped. + +“No,” I said slowly, “that was NOT all by a long way; but the rest I +don't understand. That's The Pilot's secret.” + +“Tell me what he did,” said Lady Charlotte, softly, once more. “I want +to know.” + +“I don't think I can,” I replied. “He simply read out of the Scriptures +to her and talked.” + +Lady Charlotte looked disappointed. + +“Is that all?” she said. + +“It is quite enough for Gwen,” said The Duke confidently, “for there she +lies, often suffering, always longing for the hills and the free air, +but with her face radiant as the flowers of the beloved canyon.” + +“I must see her,” said Lady Charlotte, “and that wonderful Pilot.” + +“You'll be disappointed in him,” said The Duke. + +“Oh, I've see him and heard him, but I don't know him,” she replied. +“There must be something in him that one does not see at first.” + +“So I have discovered,” said The Duke, and with that the subject was +dropped, but not before the Lady Charlotte made me promise to take her +to Gwen, The Duke being strangely unwilling to do this for her. + +“You'll be disappointed,” he said. “She is only a simple little child.” + +But Lady Charlotte thought differently, and, having made up her mind +upon the matter, there was nothing for it, as her husband said, but “for +all hands to surrender and the sooner the better.” + +And so the Lady Charlotte had her way, which, as it turned out, was much +the wisest and best. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THROUGH GWEN'S WINDOW + + +When I told The Pilot of Lady Charlotte's purpose to visit Gwen, he was +not too well pleased. + +“What does she want with Gwen?” he said impatiently. “She will just put +notions into her head and make the child discontented.” + +“Why should she?” said I. + +“She won't mean to, but she belongs to another world, and Gwen cannot +talk to her without getting glimpses of a life that will make her long +for what she can never have,” said The Pilot. + +“But suppose it is not idle curiosity in Lady Charlotte,” I suggested. + +“I don't say it is quite that,” he answered, “but these people love a +sensation.” + +“I don't think you know Lady Charlotte,” I replied. “I hardly think from +her tone the other night that she is a sensation hunter.” + +“At any rate,” he answered, decidedly, “she is not to worry poor Gwen.” + +I was a little surprised at his attitude, and felt that he was unfair to +Lady Charlotte, but I forbore to argue with him on the matter. He could +not bear to think of any person or thing threatening the peace of his +beloved Gwen. + +The very first Saturday after my promise was given we were surprised +to see Lady Charlotte ride up to the door of our shack in the early +morning. + +“You see, I am not going to let you off,” she said, as I greeted her. +“And the day is so very fine for a ride.” + +I hastened to apologize for not going to her, and then to get out of my +difficulty, rather meanly turned toward The Pilot, and said: + +“The Pilot doesn't approve of our visit.” + +“And why not, may I ask?” said Lady Charlotte, lifting her eyebrows. + +The Pilot's face burned, partly with wrath at me, and partly with +embarrassment; for Lady Charlotte had put on her grand air. But he stood +to his guns. + +“I was saying, Lady Charlotte,” he said, looking straight into her eyes, +“that you and Gwen have little in common--and--and--” he hesitated. + +“Little in common!” said Lady Charlotte quietly. “She has suffered +greatly.” + +The Pilot was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice. + +“Yes,” he said, wondering at her tone, “she has suffered greatly.” + +“And,” continued Lady Charlotte, “she is bright as the morning, The Duke +says.” There was a look of pain in her face. + +The Pilot's face lit up, and he came nearer and laid his hand +caressingly upon her beautiful horse. + +“Yes, thank God!” he said quickly, “bright as the morning.” + +“How can that be?” she asked, looking down into his face. “Perhaps she +would tell me.” + +“Lady Charlotte,” said The Pilot with a sudden flush, “I must ask your +pardon. I was wrong. I thought you--” he paused; “but go to Gwen, she +will tell you, and you will do her good.” + +“Thank you,” said Lady Charlotte, putting out her hand, “and perhaps you +will come and see me, too.” + +The Pilot promised and stood looking after us as we rode up the trail. + +“There is something more in your Pilot than at first appears,” she said. +“The Duke was quite right.” + +“He is a great man,” I said with enthusiasm; “tender as a woman and with +the heart of a hero.” + +“You and Bill and The Duke seem to agree about him,” she said, smiling. + +Then I told her tales of The Pilot, and of his ways with the men, till +her blue eyes grew bright and her beautiful face lost its proud look. + +“It is perfectly amazing,” I said, finishing my story, “how these +devil-may-care rough fellows respect him, and come to him in all sorts +of trouble. I can't understand it, and yet he is just a boy.” + +“No, not amazing,” said Lady Charlotte slowly. “I think I understand it. +He has a true man's heart; and holds a great purpose in it. I've seen +men like that. Not clergymen, I mean, but men with a great purpose.” + +Then, after a moment's thought, she added: “But you ought to care for +him better. He does not look strong.” + +“Strong!” I exclaimed quickly, with a queer feeling of resentment at my +heart. “He can do as much riding as any of us.” + +“Still,” she replied, “there's something in his face that would make his +mother anxious.” In spite of my repudiation of her suggestion, I found +myself for the next few minutes thinking of how he would come exhausted +and faint from his long rides, and I resolved that he must have a rest +and change. + +It was one of those early September days, the best of all in the western +country, when the light falls less fiercely through a soft haze that +seems to fill the air about you, and that grows into purple on the far +hilltops. By the time we reached the canyon the sun was riding high and +pouring its rays full into all the deep nooks where the shadows mostly +lay. + +There were no shadows to-day, except such as the trees cast upon the +green moss beds and the black rocks. The tops of the tall elms were sere +and rusty, but the leaves of the rugged oaks that fringed the canyon's +lips shone a rich and glossy brown. All down the sides the poplars and +delicate birches, pale yellow, but sometimes flushing into orange and +red, stood shimmering in the golden light, while here and there the +broad-spreading, feathery sumachs made great splashes of brilliant +crimson upon the yellow and gold. Down in the bottom stood the cedars +and the balsams, still green. We stood some moments silently gazing into +this tangle of interlacing boughs and shimmering leaves, all glowing in +yellow light, then Lady Charlotte broke the silence in tones soft and +reverent as if she stood in a great cathedral. + +“And this is Gwen's canyon!” + +“Yes, but she never sees it now,” I said, for I could never ride through +without thinking of the child to whose heart this was so dear, but whose +eyes never rested upon it. Lady Charlotte made no reply, and we took the +trail that wound down into this maze of mingling colors and lights +and shadows. Everywhere lay the fallen leaves, brown and yellow and +gold;--everywhere on our trail, on the green mosses and among the +dead ferns. And as we rode, leaves fluttered down from the trees above +silently through the tangled boughs, and lay with the others on moss and +rock and beaten trail. + +The flowers were all gone; but the Little Swan sang as ever its +many-voiced song, as it flowed in pools and eddies and cascades, with +here and there a golden leaf upon its black waters. Ah! how often in +weary, dusty days these sights and sounds and silences have come to me +and brought my heart rest! + +As we began to climb up into the open, I glanced at my companion's face. +The canyon had done its work with her as with all who loved it. The +touch of pride that was the habit of her face was gone, and in its place +rested the earnest wonder of a little child, while in her eyes lay the +canyon's tender glow. And with this face she looked in upon Gwen. + +And Gwen, who had been waiting for her, forgot all her nervous fear, and +with hands outstretched, cried out in welcome: + +“Oh, I'm so glad! You've seen it and I know you love it! My canyon, you +know!” she went on, answering Lady Charlotte's mystified look. + +“Yes, dear child,” said Lady Charlotte, bending over the pale face with +its halo of golden hair, “I love it.” But she could get no further, +for her eyes were full of tears. Gwen gazed up into the beautiful face, +wondering at her silence, and then said gently: + +“Tell me how it looks to-day! The Pilot always shows it to me. Do you +know,” she added, thoughtfully, “The Pilot looks like it himself. He +makes me think of it, and--and--” she went on shyly, “you do, too.” + +By this time Lady Charlotte was kneeling by the couch, smoothing the +beautiful hair and gently touching the face so pale and lined with pain. + +“That is a great honor, truly,” she said brightly through her tears--“to +be like your canyon and like your Pilot, too.” + +Gwen nodded, but she was not to be denied. + +“Tell me how it looks to-day,” she said. “I want to see it. Oh, I want +to see it!” + +Lady Charlotte was greatly moved by the yearning in the voice, but, +controlling herself, she said gaily: + +“Oh, I can't show it to you as your Pilot can, but I'll tell you what I +saw.” + +“Turn me where I can see,” said Gwen to me, and I wheeled her toward the +window and raised her up so that she could look down the trail toward +the canyon's mouth. + +“Now,” she said, after the pain of the lifting had passed, “tell me, +please.” + +Then Lady Charlotte set the canyon before her in rich and radiant +coloring, while Gwen listened, gazing down upon the trail to where the +elm tops could be seen, rusty and sere. + +“Oh, it is lovely!” said Gwen, “and I see it so well. It is all there +before me when I look through my window.” + +But Lady Charlotte looked at her, wondering to see her bright smile, and +at last she could not help the question: + +“But don't you weary to see it with your own eyes?” + +“Yes,” said Gwen gently, “often I want and want it, oh, so much!” + +“And then, Gwen, dear, how can you bear it?” Her voice was eager and +earnest. “Tell me, Gwen. I have heard all about your canyon flowers, but +I can't understand how the fretting and the pain went away.” + +Gwen looked at her first in amazement, and then in dawning +understanding. + +“Have you a canyon, too?” she asked, gravely. + +Lady Charlotte paused a moment, then nodded. It did appear strange to me +that she should break down her proud reserve and open her heart to this +child. + +“And there are no flowers, Gwen, not one,” she said rather bitterly, +“nor sun nor seeds nor soil, I fear.” + +“Oh, if The Pilot were here, he would tell you.” + +At this point, feeling that they would rather be alone, I excused myself +on the pretext of looking after the horses. + +What they talked of during the next hour I never knew, but when +I returned to the room Lady Charlotte was reading slowly and with +perplexed face to Gwen out of her mother's Bible the words “for the +suffering of death, crowned with glory and honor.” + +“You see even for Him, suffering,” Gwen said eagerly, “but I can't +explain. The Pilot will make it clear.” Then the talk ended. + +We had lunch with Gwen--bannocks and fresh sweet milk and +blueberries--and after an hour of gay fun we came away. + +Lady Charlotte kissed her tenderly as she bade Gwen good-by. + +“You must let me come again and sit at your window,” she said, smiling +down upon the wan face. + +“Oh, I shall watch for you. How good that will be!” cried Gwen, +delightedly. “How many come to see me! You make five.” Then she added, +softly: “You will write your letter.” But Lady Charlotte shook her head. + +“I can't do that, I fear,” she said, “but I shall think of it.” + +It was a bright face that looked out upon us through the open window as +we rode down the trail. Just before we took the dip into the canyon, I +turned to wave my hand. + +“Gwen's friends always wave from here,” I said, wheeling my bronco. + +Again and again Lady Charlotte waved her handkerchief. + +“How beautiful, but how wonderful!” she said as if to herself. “Truly, +HER canyon is full of flowers.” + +“It is quite beyond me,” I answered. “The Pilot may explain.” + +“Is there anything your Pilot can't do?” said Lady Charlotte. + +“Try him,” I ventured. + +“I mean to,” she replied, “but I cannot bring anyone to my canyon, I +fear,” she added in an uncertain voice. + +As I left her at her door she thanked me with courteous grace. + +“You have done a great deal for me,” she said, giving me her hand. “It +has been a beautiful, a wonderful day.” + +When I told the Pilot all the day's doings, he burst out: + +“What a stupid and self-righteous fool I have been! I never thought +there could be any canyon in her life. How short our sight is!” and all +that night I could get almost no words from him. + +That was the first of many visits to Gwen. Not a week passed but Lady +Charlotte took the trail to the Meredith ranch and spent an hour at +Gwen's window. Often The Pilot found her there. But though they were +always pleasant hours to him, he would come home in great trouble about +Lady Charlotte. + +“She is perfectly charming and doing Gwen no end of good, but she is +proud as an archangel. Has had an awful break with her family at home, +and it is spoiling her life. She told me so much, but she will allow no +one to touch the affair.” + +But one day we met her riding toward the village. As we drew near, she +drew up her horse and held up a letter. + +“Home!” she said. “I wrote it to-day, and I must get it off +immediately.” + +The Pilot understood her at once, but he only said: + +“Good!” but with such emphasis that we both laughed. + +“Yes, I hope so,” she said with the red beginning to show in her cheek. +“I have dropped some seed into my canyon.” + +“I think I see the flowers beginning to spring,” said The Pilot. + +She shook her head doubtfully and replied: + +“I shall ride up and sit with Gwen at her window.” + +“Do,” replied The Pilot, “the light is good there. Wonderful things are +to be seen through Gwen's window.” + +“Yes,” said Lady Charlotte softly. “Dear Gwen!--but I fear it is often +made bright with tears.” + +As she spoke she wheeled her horse and cantered off, for her own tears +were not far away. I followed her in thought up the trail winding +through the round-topped hills and down through the golden lights of the +canyon and into Gwen's room. I could see the pale face, with its golden +aureole, light up and glow, as they sat before the window while Lady +Charlotte would tell her how Gwen's Canyon looked to-day and how in her +own bleak canyon there was the sign of flowers. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +HOW BILL FAVORED “HOME-GROWN INDUSTRIES” + + +The building of the Swan Creek Church made a sensation in the country, +and all the more that Bronco Bill was in command. + +“When I put up money I stay with the game,” he announced; and stay he +did, to the great benefit of the work and to the delight of The Pilot, +who was wearing his life out in trying to do several men's work. It was +Bill that organized the gangs for hauling stone for the foundation and +logs for the walls. It was Bill that assigned the various jobs to those +volunteering service. To Robbie Muir and two stalwart Glengarry men from +the Ottawa lumber region, who knew all about the broadaxe, he gave the +hewing down of the logs that formed the walls. And when they had done, +Bill declared they were “better 'an a sawmill.” It was Bill, too, that +did the financing, and his passage with Williams, the storekeeper from +“the other side” who dealt in lumber and building material, was such as +established forever Bill's reputation in finance. + +With The Pilot's plans in his hands he went to Williams, seizing a time +when the store was full of men after their mail matter. + +“What do you think ov them plans?” he asked innocently. + +Williams was voluble with opinions and criticism and suggestions, all of +which were gratefully, even humbly received. + +“Kind ov hard to figger out jest how much lumber 'll go into the shack,” + said Bill; “ye see the logs makes a difference.” + +To Williams the thing was simplicity itself, and, after some figuring, +he handed Bill a complete statement of the amount of lumber of all kinds +that would be required. + +“Now, what would that there come to?” + +Williams named his figure, and then Bill entered upon negotiations. + +“I aint no man to beat down prices. No, sir, I say give a man his +figger. Of course, this here aint my funeral; besides, bein' a Gospel +shop, the price naterally would be different.” To this the boys all +assented and Williams looked uncomfortable. + +“In fact,” and Bill adopted his public tone to Hi's admiration and joy, +“this here's a public institooshun” (this was Williams' own thunder), +“condoocin' to the good of the community” (Hi slapped his thigh and +squirted half way across the store to signify his entire approval), “and +I cherish the opinion”--(delighted chuckle from Hi)--“that public men +are interested in this concern.” + +“That's so! Right you are!” chorused the boys gravely. + +Williams agreed, but declared he had thought of all this in making his +calculation. But seeing it was a church, and the first church and their +own church, he would make a cut, which he did after more figuring. Bill +gravely took the slip of paper and put it into his pocket without a +word. By the end of the week, having in the meantime ridden into town +and interviewed the dealers there, Bill sauntered into the store and +took up his position remote from Williams. + +“You'll be wanting that sheeting, won't you, next week, Bill?” said +Williams. + +“What sheetin' 's that?” + +“Why, for the church. Aint the logs up?” + +“Yes, that's so. I was just goin' to see the boys here about gettin' it +hauled,” said Bill. + +“Hauled!” said Williams, in amazed indignation. “Aint you goin' to stick +to your deal?” + +“I generally make it my custom to stick to my deals,” said Bill, looking +straight at Williams. + +“Well, what about your deal with me last Monday night?” said Williams, +angrily. + +“Let's see. Last Monday night,” said Bill, apparently thinking back; +“can't say as I remember any pertickler deal. Any ov you fellers +remember?” + +No one could recall any deal. + +“You don't remember getting any paper from me, I suppose?” said +Williams, sarcastically. + +“Paper! Why, I believe I've got that there paper onto my person at +this present moment,” said Bill, diving into his pocket and drawing out +Williams' estimate. He spent a few moments in careful scrutiny. + +“There ain't no deal onto this as I can see,” said Bill, gravely passing +the paper to the boys, who each scrutinized it and passed it on with a +shake of the head or a remark as to the absence of any sign of a deal. +Williams changed his tone. For his part, he was indifferent in the +matter. + +Then Bill made him an offer. + +“Ov course, I believe in supportin' home-grown industries, and if you +can touch my figger I'd be uncommonly glad to give you the contract.” + +But Bill's figure, which was quite fifty per cent. lower than Williams' +best offer, was rejected as quite impossible. + +“Thought I'd make you the offer,” said Bill, carelessly, “seein' as +you're institootin' the trade and the boys here 'll all be buildin' +more or less, and I believe in standin' up for local trades and +manufactures.” There were nods of approval on all sides, and Williams +was forced to accept, for Bill began arranging with the Hill brothers +and Hi to make an early start on Monday. It was a great triumph, but +Bill displayed no sign of elation; he was rather full of sympathy +for Williams, and eager to help on the lumber business as a local +“institooshun.” + +Second in command in the church building enterprise stood Lady +Charlotte, and under her labored the Hon. Fred, The Duke, and, indeed, +all the company of the Noble Seven. Her home became the centre of a new +type of social life. With exquisite tact, and much was needed for this +kind of work, she drew the bachelors from their lonely shacks and +from their wild carousals, and gave them a taste of the joys of a pure +home-life, the first they had had since leaving the old homes years ago. +And then she made them work for the church with such zeal and diligence +that her husband and The Duke declared that ranching had become quite an +incidental interest since the church-building had begun. But The Pilot +went about with a radiant look on his pale face, while Bill gave it +forth as his opinion, “though she was a leetle high in the action, she +could hit an uncommon gait.” + +With such energy did Bill push the work of construction that by the +first of December the church stood roofed, sheeted, floored and ready +for windows, doors and ceiling, so that The Pilot began to hope that he +should see the desire of his heart fulfilled--the church of Swan Creek +open for divine service on Christmas Day. + +During these weeks there was more than church-building going on, for +while the days were given to the shaping of logs, and the driving of +nails and the planing of boards, the long winter evenings were spent in +talk around the fire in my shack, where The Pilot for some months past +had made his home and where Bill, since the beginning of the church +building, had come “to camp.” Those were great nights for The Pilot and +Bill, and, indeed, for me, too, and the other boys, who, after a day's +work on the church, were always brought in by Bill or The Pilot. + +Great nights for us all they were. After bacon and beans and bannocks, +and occasionally potatoes, and rarely a pudding, with coffee, rich +and steaming, to wash all down, pipes would follow, and then yarns of +adventures, possible and impossible, all exciting and wonderful, and all +received with the greatest credulity. + +If, however, the powers of belief were put to too great a strain by a +tale of more than ordinary marvel, Bill would follow with one of such +utter impossibility that the company would feel that the limit had been +reached, and the yarns would cease. But after the first week most of the +time was given to The Pilot, who would read to us of the deeds of the +mighty men of old, who had made and wrecked empires. + +What happy nights they were to those cowboys, who had been cast up like +driftwood upon this strange and lonely shore! Some of them had never +known what it was to have a thought beyond the work and sport of the +day. And the world into which The Pilot was ushering them was all new +and wonderful to them. Happy nights, without a care, but that The Pilot +would not get the ghastly look out of his face, and laughed at the idea +of going away till the church was built. And, indeed, we would all have +sorely missed him, and so he stayed. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +HOW BILL HIT THE TRAIL + + +When “the crowd” was with us The Pilot read us all sorts of tales of +adventures in all lands by heroes of all ages, but when we three sat +together by our fire The Pilot would always read us tales of the heroes +of sacred story, and these delighted Bill more than those of any of +the ancient empires of the past. He had his favorites. Abraham, Moses, +Joshua, Gideon, never failed to arouse his admiration. But Jacob was to +him always “a mean cuss,” and David he could not appreciate. Most of +all he admired Moses and the Apostle Paul, whom he called “that little +chap.” But, when the reading was about the One Great Man that moved +majestic amid the gospel stories, Bill made no comments; He was too high +for approval. + +By and by Bill began to tell these tales to the boys, and one night, +when a quiet mood had fallen upon the company, Bill broke the silence. + +“Say, Pilot, where was it that the little chap got mixed up into that +riot?” + +“Riot!” said The Pilot. + +“Yes; you remember when he stood off the whole gang from the stairs?” + +“Oh, yes, at Jerusalem!” + +“Yes, that's the spot. Perhaps you would read that to the boys. Good +yarn! Little chap, you know, stood up and told 'em they were all sorts +of blanked thieves and cut-throats, and stood 'em off. Played it alone, +too.” + +Most of the boys failed to recognize the story in its new dress. There +was much interest. + +“Who was the duck? Who was the gang? What was the row about?” + +“The Pilot here'll tell you. If you'd kind o' give 'em a lead before you +begin, they'd catch on to the yarn better.” This last to The Pilot, who +was preparing to read. + +“Well, it was at Jerusalem,” began The Pilot, when Bill interrupted: + +“If I might remark, perhaps it might help the boys on to the trail +mebbe, if you'd tell 'em how the little chap struck his new gait.” So he +designated the Apostle's conversion. + +Then The Pilot introduced the Apostle with some formality to the +company, describing with such vivid touches his life and early training, +his sudden wrench from all he held dear, under the stress of a new +conviction, his magnificent enthusiasm and courage, his tenderness and +patience, that I was surprised to find myself regarding him as a sort of +hero, and the boys were all ready to back him against any odds. As The +Pilot read the story of the Arrest at Jerusalem, stopping now and then +to picture the scene, we saw it all and were in the thick of it. The +raging crowd hustling and beating the life out of the brave little man, +the sudden thrust of the disciplined Roman guard through the mass, the +rescue, the pause on the stairway, the calm face of the little hero +beckoning for a hearing, the quieting of the frantic, frothing mob, the +fearless speech--all passed before us. The boys were thrilled. + +“Good stuff, eh?” + +“Ain't he a daisy?” + +“Daisy! He's a whole sunflower patch!” + +“Yes,” drawled Bill, highly appreciating their marks of approval. +“That's what I call a partickler fine character of a man. There ain't no +manner of insecks on to him.” + +“You bet!” said Hi. + +“I say,” broke in one of the boys, who was just emerging from the +tenderfoot stage, “o' course that's in the Bible, ain't it?” + +The Pilot assented. + +“Well, how do you know it's true?” + +The Pilot was proceeding to elaborate his argument when Bill cut in +somewhat more abruptly than was his wont. + +“Look here, young feller!” Bill's voice was in the tone of command. The +man looked as he was bid. “How do you know anything's true? How do you +know The Pilot here's true when he speaks? Can't you tell by the feel? +You know by the sound of his voice, don't you?” Bill paused and the +young fellow agreed readily. + +“Well how do you know a blanked son of a she jackass when you see him?” + Again Bill paused. There was no reply. + +“Well,” said Bill, resuming his deliberate drawl. “I'll give you the +information without extra charge. It's by the sound he makes when he +opens his blanked jaw.” + +“But,” went on the young skeptic, nettled at the laugh that went round, +“that don't prove anything. You know,” turning to The Pilot, “that there +are heaps of people who don't believe the Bible.” + +The Pilot nodded. + +“Some of the smartest, best-educated men are agnostics,” proceeded the +young man, warming to his theme, and failing to notice the stiffening of +Bill's lank figure. “I don't know but what I am one myself.” + +“That so?” said Bill, with sudden interest. + +“I guess so,” was the modest reply. + +“Got it bad?” went on Bill, with a note of anxiety in his tone. + +But the young man turned to The Pilot and tried to open a fresh +argument. + +“Whatever he's got,” said Bill to the others, in a mild voice, “it's +spoilin' his manners.” + +“Yes,” went on Bill, meditatively, after the slight laugh had died, +“it's ruinin' to the judgment. He don't seem to know when he interferes +with the game. Pity, too.” + +Still the argument went on. + +“Seems as if he ought to take somethin',” said Bill, in a voice +suspiciously mild. “What would you suggest?” + +“A walk, mebbe!” said Hi, in delighted expectation. + +“I hold the opinion that you have mentioned an uncommonly vallable +remedy, better'n Pain Killer almost.” + +Bill rose languidly. + +“I say,” he drawled, tapping the young fellow, “it appears to me a +little walk would perhaps be good, mebbe.” + +“All right, wait till I get my cap,” was the unsuspecting reply. + +“I don't think perhaps you won't need it, mebbe. I cherish the opinion +you'll, perhaps, be warm enough.” Bill's voice had unconsciously passed +into a sterner tone. Hi was on his feet and at the door. + +“This here interview is private AND confidential,” said Bill to his +partner. + +“Exactly,” said Hi, opening the door. At this the young fellow, who was +a strapping six-footer, but soft and flabby, drew back and refused to +go. He was too late. Bill's grip was on his collar and out they went +into the snow, and behind them Hi closed the door. In vain the young +fellow struggled to wrench himself free from the hands that had him by +the shoulder and the back of the neck. I took it all in from the window. +He might have been a boy for all the effect his plungings had upon the +long, sinewy arms that gripped him so fiercely. After a minute's furious +struggle the young fellow stood quiet, when Bill suddenly shifted his +grip from the shoulder to the seat of his buckskin trousers. Then began +a series of evolutions before the house--up and down, forward and back, +which the unfortunate victim, with hands wildly clutching at empty +air, was quite powerless to resist till he was brought up panting and +gasping, subdued, to a standstill. + +“I'll larn you agnostics and several other kinds of ticks,” said Bill, +in a terrible voice, his drawl lengthening perceptibly. “Come round +here, will you, and shove your blanked second-handed trash down our +throats?” Bill paused to get words; then, bursting out in rising wrath: + +“There ain't no sootable words for sich conduct. By the livin' Jeminy--” + He suddenly swung his prisoner off his feet, lifted him bodily, and held +him over his head at arm's length. “I've a notion to--” + +“Don't! don't! for Heaven's sake!” cried the struggling wretch, “I'll +stop it! I will!” + +Bill at once lowered him and set him on his feet. + +“All right! Shake!” he said, holding out his hand, which the other took +with caution. + +It was a remarkably sudden conversion and lasting in its effects. There +was no more agnosticism in the little group that gathered around The +Pilot for the nightly reading. + +The interest in the reading kept growing night by night. + +“Seems as if The Pilot was gittin' in his work,” said Bill to me; and +looking at the grave, eager faces, I agreed. He was getting in his work +with Bill, too; though perhaps Bill did not know it. I remember one +night, when the others had gone, The Pilot was reading to us the Parable +of the Talents, Bill was particularly interested in the servant who +failed in his duty. + +“Ornery cuss, eh?” he remarked; “and gall, too, eh? Served him blamed +well right, in my opinion!” + +But when the practical bearing of the parable became clear to him, after +long silence, he said, slowly: + +“Well, that there seems to indicate that it's about time for me to get +a rustle on.” Then, after another silence, he said, hesitatingly, “This +here church-buildin' business now, do you think that'll perhaps count, +mebbe? I guess not, eh? 'Tain't much, o' course, anyway.” Poor Bill, he +was like a child, and The Pilot handled him with a mother's touch. + +“What are you best at, Bill?” + +“Bronco-bustin' and cattle,” said Bill, wonderingly; “that's my line.” + +“Well, Bill, my line is preaching just now, and piloting, you know.” The +Pilot's smile was like a sunbeam on a rainy day, for there were tears in +his eyes and voice. “And we have just got to be faithful. You see +what he says: 'Well done, good and FAITHFUL servant. Thou hast been +FAITHFUL.'” + +Bill was puzzled. + +“Faithful!” he repeated. “Does that mean with the cattle, perhaps?” + +“Yes, that's just it, Bill, and with everything else that comes your +way.” + +And Bill never forgot that lesson, for I heard him, with a kind of quiet +enthusiasm, giving it to Hi as a great find. “Now, I call that a fair +deal,” he said to his friend; “gives every man a show. No cards up the +sleeve.” + +“That's so,” was Hi's thoughtful reply; “distributes the trumps.” + +Somehow Bill came to be regarded as an authority upon questions of +religion and morals. No one ever accused him of “gettin' religion.” He +went about his work in his slow, quiet way, but he was always sharing +his discoveries with “the boys.” And if anyone puzzled him with +subtleties he never rested till he had him face to face with The +Pilot. And so it came that these two drew to each other with more than +brotherly affection. When Bill got into difficulty with problems that +have vexed the souls of men far wiser than he, The Pilot would either +disentangle the knots or would turn his mind to the verities that stood +out sure and clear, and Bill would be content. + +“That's good enough for me,” he would say, and his heart would be at +rest. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +HOW THE SWAN CREEK CHURCH WAS OPENED + + +When, near the end of the year, The Pilot fell sick, Bill nursed him +like a mother and sent him off for a rest and change to Gwen, forbidding +him to return till the church was finished and visiting him twice a +week. The love between the two was most beautiful, and, when I find my +heart grow hard and unbelieving in men and things, I let my mind wander +back to a scene that I came upon in front of Gwen's house. These two +were standing alone in the clear moonlight, Bill with his hand upon The +Pilot's shoulder, and The Pilot with his arm around Bill's neck. + +“Dear old Bill,” The Pilot was saying, “dear old Bill,” and the voice +was breaking into a sob. And Bill, standing stiff and straight, looked +up at the stars, coughed and swallowed hard for some moments, and said, +in a queer, croaky voice: + +“Shouldn't wonder if a Chinook would blow up.” + +“Chinook?” laughed The Pilot, with a catch in his voice. “You dear old +humbug,” and he stood watching till the lank form swayed down into the +canyon. + +The day of the church opening came, as all days, however long waited +for, will come--a bright, beautiful Christmas Day. The air was still and +full of frosty light, as if arrested by a voice of command, waiting the +word to move. The hills lay under their dazzling coverlets, asleep. Back +of all, the great peaks lifted majestic heads out of the dark forests +and gazed with calm, steadfast faces upon the white, sunlit world. +To-day, as the light filled up the cracks that wrinkled their hard +faces, they seemed to smile, as if the Christmas joy had somehow moved +something in their old, stony hearts. + +The people were all there--farmers, ranchers, cowboys, wives and +children--all happy, all proud of their new church, and now all +expectant, waiting for The Pilot and the Old Timer, who were to drive +down if The Pilot was fit and were to bring Gwen if the day was fine. As +the time passed on, Bill, as master of ceremonies, began to grow uneasy. +Then Indian Joe appeared and handed a note to Bill. He read it, grew +gray in the face and passed it to me. Looking, I saw in poor, wavering +lines the words, “Dear Bill. Go on with the opening. Sing the Psalm, +you know the one, and say a prayer, and oh, come to me quick, Bill. Your +Pilot.” + +Bill gradually pulled himself together, announced in a strange voice, +“The Pilot can't come,” handed me the Psalm, and said: + +“Make them sing.” + +It was that grand Psalm for all hill peoples, “I to the hills will lift +mine eyes,” and with wondering faces they sang the strong, steadying +words. After the Psalm was over the people sat and waited, Bill looked +at the Hon. Fred Ashley, then at Robbie Muir, then said to me in a low +voice: + +“Kin you make a prayer?” + +I shook my head, ashamed as I did so of my cowardice. + +Again Bill paused, then said: + +“The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer. Kin anyone make one?” + +Again dead, solemn silence. + +Then Hi, who was near the back, said, coming to his partner's help: + +“What's the matter with you trying, yourself, Bill?” + +The red began to come up in Bill's white face. + +“'Taint in my line. But The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer, and +I'm going to stay with the game.” Then, leaning on the pulpit, he said: + +“Let's pray,” and began: + +“God Almighty, I ain't no good at this, and perhaps you'll understand if +I don't put things right.” Then a pause followed, during which I heard +some of the women beginning to sob. + +“What I want to say,” Bill went on, “is, we're mighty glad about this +church, which we know it's you and The Pilot that's worked it. And we're +all glad to chip in.” + +Then again he paused, and, looking up, I saw his hard, gray face working +and two tears stealing down his cheeks. Then he started again: + +“But about The Pilot--I don't want to persoom--but if you don't mind, +we'd like to have him stay--in fact, don't see how we kin do without +him--look at all the boys here; he's just getting his work in and is +bringin' 'em right along, and, God Almighty, if you take him away it +might be a good thing for himself, but for us--oh, God,” the voice +quivered and was silent “Amen.” + +Then someone, I think it must have been the Lady Charlotte, began: “Our +Father,” and all joined that could join, to the end. For a few moments +Bill stood up, looking at them silently. Then, as if remembering his +duty, he said: + +“This here church is open. Excuse me.” + +He stood at the door, gave a word of direction to Hi, who had followed +him out, and leaping on his bronco shook him out into a hard gallop. + +The Swan Creek Church was opened. The form of service may not have been +correct, but, if great love counts for anything and appealing faith, +then all that was necessary was done. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE PILOT'S LAST PORT + + +In the old times a funeral was regarded in the Swan Creek country as a +kind of solemn festivity. In those days, for the most part, men died in +their boots and were planted with much honor and loyal libation. There +was often neither shroud nor coffin, and in the Far West many a poor +fellow lies as he fell, wrapped in his own or his comrade's blanket. + +It was the manager of the X L Company's ranch that introduced crape. +The occasion was the funeral of one of the ranch cowboys, killed by his +bronco, but when the pall-bearers and mourners appeared with bands and +streamers of crape, this was voted by the majority as “too gay.” That +circumstance alone was sufficient to render that funeral famous, but it +was remembered, too, as having shocked the proprieties in another and +more serious manner. No one would be so narrow-minded as to object to +the custom of the return procession falling into a series of horse-races +of the wildest description, and ending up at Latour's in a general +riot. But to race with the corpse was considered bad form. The +“corpse-driver,” as he was called, could hardly be blamed on this +occasion. His acknowledged place was at the head of the procession, and +it was a point of honor that that place should be retained. The fault +clearly lay with the driver of the X L ranch sleigh, containing the +mourners (an innovation, by the way), who felt aggrieved that Hi Kendal, +driving the Ashley team with the pall-bearers (another innovation), +should be given the place of honor next the corpse. The X L driver +wanted to know what, in the name of all that was black and blue, the +Ashley Ranch had to do with the funeral? Whose was that corpse, anyway? +Didn't it belong to the X L ranch? Hi, on the other hand, contended that +the corpse was in charge of the pall-bearers. “It was their duty to see +it right to the grave, and if they were not on hand, how was it goin' to +get there? They didn't expect it would git up and get there by itself, +did they? Hi didn't want no blanked mourners foolin' round that corp +till it was properly planted; after that they might git in their +work.” But the X L driver could not accept this view, and at the first +opportunity slipped past Hi and his pall-bearers and took the place next +the sleigh that carried the coffin. It is possible that Hi might have +borne with this affront and loss of position with even mind, but the +jeering remarks of the mourners as they slid past triumphantly could not +be endured, and the next moment the three teams were abreast in a race +as for dear life. The corpse-driver, having the advantage of the beaten +track, soon left the other two behind running neck and neck for second +place, which was captured finally by Hi and maintained to the grave +side, in spite of many attempts on the part of the X L's. The whole +proceeding, however, was considered quite improper, and at Latour's, +that night, after full and bibulous discussion, it was agreed that the +corpse-driver fairly distributed the blame. “For his part,” he said, “he +knew he hadn't ought to make no corp git any such move on, but he wasn't +goin' to see that there corp take second place at his own funeral. +Not if he could help it. And as for the others, he thought that the +pall-bearers had a blanked sight more to do with the plantin' than them +giddy mourners.” + +But when they gathered at the Meredith ranch to carry out The Pilot +to his grave it was felt that the Foothill Country was called to a new +experience. They were all there. The men from the Porcupine and from +beyond the Fort, the Police with the Inspector in command, all the +farmers for twenty miles around, and of course all the ranchers and +cowboys of the Swan Creek country. There was no effort at repression. +There was no need, for in the cowboys, for the first time in their +experience, there was no heart for fun. And as they rode up and hitched +their horses to the fence, or drove their sleighs into the yard and +took off the bells, there was no loud-voiced salutation, no guying nor +chaffing, but with silent nod they took their places in the crowd about +the door or passed into the kitchen. + +The men from the Porcupine could not quite understand the gloomy +silence. It was something unprecedented in a country where men laughed +all care to scorn and saluted death with a nod. But they were quick to +read signs, and with characteristic courtesy they fell in with the mood +they could not understand. There is no man living so quick to feel your +mood, and so ready to adapt himself to it, as is the true Westerner. + +This was the day of the cowboy's grief. To the rest of the community +The Pilot was preacher; to them he was comrade and friend. They had been +slow to admit him to their confidence, but steadily he had won his place +with them, till within the last few months they had come to count him as +of themselves. He had ridden the range with them; he had slept in their +shacks and cooked his meals on their tin stoves; and, besides, he was +Bill's chum. That alone was enough to give him a right to all they +owned. He was theirs, and they were only beginning to take full pride in +him when he passed out from them, leaving an emptiness in their life new +and unexplained. No man in that country had ever shown concern for them, +nor had it occurred to them that any man could, till The Pilot came. +It took them long to believe that the interest he showed in them was +genuine and not simply professional. Then, too, from a preacher they +had expected chiefly pity, warning, rebuke. The Pilot astonished them +by giving them respect, admiration, and open-hearted affection. It was +months before they could get over their suspicion that he was humbugging +them. When once they did, they gave him back without knowing it all the +trust and love of their big, generous hearts. He had made this world new +to some of them, and to all had given glimpses of the next. It was no +wonder that they stood in dumb groups about the house where the man, who +had done all this for them and had been all this to them lay dead. + +There was no demonstration of grief. The Duke was in command, and his +quiet, firm voice, giving directions, helped all to self-control. The +women who were gathered in the middle room were weeping quietly. Bill +was nowhere to be seen, but near the inner door sat Gwen in her chair, +with Lady Charlotte beside her, holding her hand. Her face, worn with +long suffering, was pale, but serene as the morning sky, and with not a +trace of tears. As my eye caught hers, she beckoned me to her. + +“Where's Bill?” she said. “Bring him in.” + +I found him at the back of the house. + +“Aren't you coming in, Bill?” I said. + +“No; I guess there's plenty without me,” he said, in his slow way. + +“You'd better come in; the service is going to begin,” I urged. + +“Don't seem as if I cared for to hear anythin' much. I ain't much used +to preachin', anyway,” said Bill, with careful indifference, but he +added to himself, “except his, of course.” + +“Come in, Bill,” I urged. “It will look queer, you know,” but Bill +replied: + +“I guess I'll not bother,” adding, after a pause: “You see, there's them +wimmin turnin' on the waterworks, and like as not they'd swamp me sure.” + +“That's so,” said Hi, who was standing near, in silent sympathy with his +friend's grief. + +I reported to Gwen, who answered in her old imperious way, “Tell him I +want him.” I took Bill the message. + +“Why didn't you say so before?” he said, and, starting up, he passed +into the house and took up his position behind Gwen's chair. Opposite, +and leaning against the door, stood The Duke, with a look of quiet +earnestness on his handsome face. At his side stood the Hon. +Fred Ashley, and behind him the Old Timer, looking bewildered and +woe-stricken. The Pilot had filled a large place in the old man's life. +The rest of the men stood about the room and filled the kitchen beyond, +all quiet, solemn, sad. + +In Gwen's room, the one farthest in, lay The Pilot, stately and +beautiful under the magic touch of death. And as I stood and looked down +upon the quiet face I saw why Gwen shed no tear, but carried a look of +serene triumph. She had read the face aright. The lines of weariness +that had been growing so painfully clear the last few months were +smoothed out, the look of care was gone, and in place of weariness and +care, was the proud smile of victory and peace. He had met his foe and +was surprised to find his terror gone. + +The service was beautiful in its simplicity. The minister, The Pilot's +chief, had come out from town to take charge. He was rather a little +man, but sturdy and well set. His face was burnt and seared with the +suns and frosts he had braved for years. Still in the prime of his +manhood, his hair and beard were grizzled and his face deep-lined, for +the toils and cares of a pioneer missionary's life are neither few nor +light. But out of his kindly blue eye looked the heart of a hero, and +as he spoke to us we felt the prophet's touch and caught a gleam of the +prophet's fire. + +“I have fought the fight,” he read. The ring in his voice lifted up all +our heads, and, as he pictured to us the life of that battered hero who +had written these words, I saw Bill's eyes begin to gleam and his lank +figure straighten out its lazy angles. Then he turned the leaves quickly +and read again, “Let not your heart be troubled . . . in my father's +house are many mansions.” His voice took a lower, sweeter tone; he +looked over our heads, and for a few moments spoke of the eternal hope. +Then he came back to us, and, looking round into the faces turned so +eagerly to him, talked to us of The Pilot--how at the first he had sent +him to us with fear and trembling--he was so young--but how he had come +to trust in him and to rejoice in his work, and to hope much from his +life. Now it was all over; but he felt sure his young friend had not +given his life in vain. He paused as he looked from one to the other, +till his eyes rested on Gwen's face. I was startled, as I believe he +was, too, at the smile that parted her lips, so evidently saying: “Yes, +but how much better I know than you.” + +“Yes,” he went on, after a pause, answering her smile, “you all know +better than I that his work among you will not pass away with his +removal, but endure while you live,” and the smile on Gwen's face grew +brighter. “And now you must not grudge him his reward and his rest . . . +and his home.” And Bill, nodding his head slowly, said under his breath, +“That's so.” + +Then they sang that hymn of the dawning glory of Immanuel's land,--Lady +Charlotte playing the organ and The Duke leading with clear, steady +voice verse after verse. When they came to the last verse the minister +made a sign and, while they waited, he read the words: + + + “I've wrestled on towards heaven + 'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide.” + + +And so on to that last victorious cry,-- + + + “I hail the glory dawning + In Immanuel's Land.” + + +For a moment it looked as if the singing could not go on, for tears +were on the minister's face and the women were beginning to sob, but The +Duke's clear, quiet voice caught up the song and steadied them all to +the end. + +After the prayer they all went in and looked at The Pilot's face and +passed out, leaving behind only those that knew him best. The Duke and +the Hon. Fred stood looking down upon the quiet face. + +“The country has lost a good man, Duke,” said the Hon. Fred. The Duke +bowed silently. Then Lady Charlotte came and gazed a moment. + +“Dear Pilot,” she whispered, her tears falling fast. “Dear, dear Pilot! +Thank God for you! You have done much for me.” Then she stooped and +kissed him on his cold lips and on his forehead. + +Then Gwen seemed to suddenly waken as from a dream. She turned and, +looking up in a frightened way, said to Bill hurriedly: + +“I want to see him again. Carry me!” + +And Bill gathered her up in his arms and took her in. As they looked +down upon the dead face with its look of proud peace and touched with +the stateliness of death, Gwen's fear passed away. But when The Duke +made to cover the face, Gwen drew a sharp breath and, clinging to Bill, +said, with a sudden gasp: + +“Oh, Bill, I can't bear it alone. I'm afraid alone.” + +She was thinking of the long, weary days of pain before her that she +must face now without The Pilot's touch and smile and voice. + +“Me, too,” said Bill, thinking of the days before him. He could have +said nothing better. Gwen looked in his face a moment, then said: + +“We'll help each other,” and Bill, swallowing hard, could only nod his +head in reply. Once more they looked upon The Pilot, leaning down and +lingering over him, and then Gwen said quietly: + +“Take me away, Bill,” and Bill carried her into the outer room. Turning +back I caught a look on The Duke's face so full of grief that I could +not help showing my amazement. He noticed and said: + +“The best man I ever knew, Connor. He has done something for me too. +. . . I'd give the world to die like that.” + +Then he covered the face. + +We sat Gwen's window, Bill, with Gwen in his arms, and I watching. +Down the sloping, snow-covered hill wound the procession of sleighs and +horsemen, without sound of voice or jingle of bell till, one by one, +they passed out of our sight and dipped down into the canyon. But we +knew every step of the winding trail and followed them in fancy through +that fairy scene of mystic wonderland. We knew how the great elms and +the poplars and the birches clinging to the snowy sides interlaced their +bare boughs into a network of bewildering complexity, and how the cedars +and balsams and spruces stood in the bottom, their dark boughs weighted +down with heavy white mantles of snow, and how every stump and fallen +log and rotting stick was made a thing of beauty by the snow that had +fallen so gently on them in that quiet spot. And we could see the rocks +of the canyon sides gleam out black from under overhanging snow-banks, +and we could hear the song of the Swan in its many tones, now under +an icy sheet, cooing comfortably, and then bursting out into sunlit +laughter and leaping into a foaming pool, to glide away smoothly +murmuring its delight to the white banks that curved to kiss the dark +water as it fled. And where the flowers had been, the violets and the +wind-flowers and the clematis and the columbine and all the ferns and +flowering shrubs, there lay the snow. Everywhere the snow, pure, white, +and myriad-gemmed, but every flake a flower's shroud. + +Out where the canyon opened to the sunny, sloping prairie, there they +would lay The Pilot to sleep, within touch of the canyon he loved, with +all its sleeping things. And there he lies to this time. But Spring has +come many times to the canyon since that winter day, and has called to +the sleeping flowers, summoning them forth in merry troops, and ever +more and more till the canyon ripples with them. And lives are like +flowers. In dying they abide not alone, but sow themselves and bloom +again with each returning spring, and ever more and more. + +For often during the following years, as here and there I came upon one +of those that companied with us in those Foothill days, I would catch a +glimpse in word and deed and look of him we called, first in jest, but +afterwards with true and tender feeling we were not ashamed to own, our +Sky Pilot. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY PILOT *** + +***** This file should be named 3248-0.txt or 3248-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/4/3248/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Sky Pilot</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Ralph Connor</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 1, 2001 [eBook #3248]<br /> +[Most recently updated: March 4, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Donald Lainson and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY PILOT ***</div> + + <h1> + THE SKY PILOT + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + A TALE OF THE FOOTHILLS <br /> <br /> By Ralph Connor + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + The measure of a man's power to help his brother is the measure of the + love in the heart of him and of the faith he has that at last the good + will win. With this love that seeks not its own and this faith that grips + the heart of things, he goes out to meet many fortunes, but not that of + defeat. + </p> + <p> + This story is of the people of the Foothill Country; of those men of + adventurous spirit, who left homes of comfort, often of luxury, because of + the stirring in them to be and to do some worthy thing; and of those + others who, outcast from their kind, sought to find in these valleys, + remote and lonely, a spot where they could forget and be forgotten. + </p> + <p> + The waving skyline of the Foothills was the boundary of their lookout upon + life. Here they dwelt safe from the scanning of the world, freed from all + restraints of social law, denied the gentler influences of home and the + sweet uplift of a good woman's face. What wonder if, with the new freedom + beating in their hearts and ears, some rode fierce and hard the wild trail + to the cut-bank of destruction! + </p> + <p> + The story is, too, of how a man with vision beyond the waving skyline came + to them with firm purpose to play the brother's part, and by sheer love of + them and by faith in them, win them to believe that life is priceless, and + that it is good to be a man. + </p> + + <hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I.</a> THE FOOTHILLS COUNTRY</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II.</a> THE COMPANY OF THE NOBLE SEVEN</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III.</a> THE COMING OF THE PILOT</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV.</a> THE PILOT'S MEASURE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V.</a> FIRST BLOOD</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI.</a> HIS SECOND WIND</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII.</a> THE LAST OF THE PERMIT SUNDAYS</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII.</a> THE PILOT'S GRIP</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX.</a> GWEN</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X.</a> GWEN'S FIRST PRAYERS</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI.</a> GWEN'S CHALLENGE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII.</a> GWEN'S CANYON</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII.</a> THE CANYON FLOWERS</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV.</a> BILL'S BLUFF</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV.</a> BILL'S PARTNER</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI.</a> BILL'S FINANCING</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII.</a> HOW THE PINTO SOLD</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER XVIII.</a> THE LADY CHARLOTTE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER XIX.</a> THROUGH GWEN'S WINDOW</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX.</a> HOW BILL FAVORED “HOME-GROWN INDUSTRIES”</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI.</a> HOW BILL HIT THE TRAIL</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII.</a> HOW THE SWAN CREEK CHURCH WAS OPENED</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0023">CHAPTER XXIII.</a> THE PILOT'S LAST PORT</td> +</tr> + +</table> + + <h2> + THE SKY PILOT + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <h3> + THE FOOTHILLS COUNTRY + </h3> + <p> + Beyond the great prairies and in the shadow of the Rockies lie the + Foothills. For nine hundred miles the prairies spread themselves out in + vast level reaches, and then begin to climb over softly rounded mounds + that ever grow higher and sharper till, here and there, they break into + jagged points and at last rest upon the great bases of the mighty + mountains. These rounded hills that join the prairies to the mountains + form the Foothill Country. They extend for about a hundred miles only, but + no other hundred miles of the great West are so full of interest and + romance. The natural features of the country combine the beauties of + prairie and of mountain scenery. There are valleys so wide that the + farther side melts into the horizon, and uplands so vast as to suggest the + unbroken prairie. Nearer the mountains the valleys dip deep and ever + deeper till they narrow into canyons through which mountain torrents pour + their blue-gray waters from glaciers that lie glistening between the white + peaks far away. Here are the great ranges on which feed herds of cattle + and horses. Here are the homes of the ranchmen, in whose wild, free, + lonely existence there mingles much of the tragedy and comedy, the humor + and pathos, that go to make up the romance of life. Among them are to be + found the most enterprising, the most daring, of the peoples of the old + lands. The broken, the outcast, the disappointed, these too have found + their way to the ranches among the Foothills. A country it is whose sunlit + hills and shaded valleys reflect themselves in the lives of its people; + for nowhere are the contrasts of light and shade more vividly seen than in + the homes of the ranchmen of the Albertas. + </p> + <p> + The experiences of my life have confirmed in me the orthodox conviction + that Providence sends his rain upon the evil as upon the good; else I + should never have set my eyes upon the Foothill country, nor touched its + strangely fascinating life, nor come to know and love the most striking + man of all that group of striking men of the Foothill country—the + dear old Pilot, as we came to call him long afterwards. My first year in + college closed in gloom. My guardian was in despair. From this distance of + years I pity him. Then I considered him unnecessarily concerned about me—“a + fussy old hen,” as one of the boys suggested. The invitation from Jack + Dale, a distant cousin, to spend a summer with him on his ranch in South + Alberta came in the nick of time. I was wild to go. My guardian hesitated + long; but no other solution of the problem of my disposal offering, he + finally agreed that I could not well get into more trouble by going than + by staying. Hence it was that, in the early summer of one of the eighties, + I found myself attached to a Hudson's Bay Company freight train, making + our way from a little railway town in Montana towards the Canadian + boundary. Our train consisted of six wagons and fourteen yoke of oxen, + with three cayuses, in charge of a French half-breed and his son, a lad of + about sixteen. We made slow enough progress, but every hour of the long + day, from the dim, gray, misty light of dawn to the soft glow of shadowy + evening, was full of new delights to me. On the evening of the third day + we reached the Line Stopping Place, where Jack Dale met us. I remember + well how my heart beat with admiration of the easy grace with which he + sailed down upon us in the loose-jointed cowboy style, swinging his own + bronco and the little cayuse he was leading for me into the circle of the + wagons, careless of ropes and freight and other impedimenta. He flung + himself off before his bronco had come to a stop, and gave me a grip that + made me sure of my welcome. It was years since he had seen a man from + home, and the eager joy in his eyes told of long days and nights of lonely + yearning for the old days and the old faces. I came to understand this + better after my two years' stay among these hills that have a strange + power on some days to waken in a man longings that make his heart grow + sick. When supper was over we gathered about the little fire, while Jack + and the half-breed smoked and talked. I lay on my back looking up at the + pale, steady stars in the deep blue of the cloudless sky, and listened in + fullness of contented delight to the chat between Jack and the driver. Now + and then I asked a question, but not too often. It is a listening silence + that draws tales from a western man, not vexing questions. This much I had + learned already from my three days' travel. So I lay and listened, and the + tales of that night are mingled with the warm evening lights and the pale + stars and the thoughts of home that Jack's coming seemed to bring. + </p> + <p> + Next morning before sun-up we had broken camp and were ready for our + fifty-mile ride. There was a slight drizzle of rain and, though rain and + shine were alike to him, Jack insisted that I should wear my mackintosh. + This garment was quite new and had a loose cape which rustled as I moved + toward my cayuse. He was an ugly-looking little animal, with more white in + his eye than I cared to see. Altogether, I did not draw toward him. Nor + did he to me, apparently. For as I took him by the bridle he snorted and + sidled about with great swiftness, and stood facing me with his feet + planted firmly in front of him as if prepared to reject overtures of any + kind soever. I tried to approach him with soothing words, but he + persistently backed away until we stood looking at each other at the + utmost distance of his outstretched neck and my outstretched arm. At this + point Jack came to my assistance, got the pony by the other side of the + bridle, and held him fast till I got into position to mount. Taking a firm + grip of the horn of the Mexican saddle, I threw my leg over his back. The + next instant I was flying over his head. My only emotion was one of + surprise, the thing was so unexpected. I had fancied myself a fair rider, + having had experience of farmers' colts of divers kinds, but this was + something quite new. The half-breed stood looking on, mildly interested; + Jack was smiling, but the boy was grinning with delight. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the little beast,” said Jack. But the grinning boy braced me up + and I replied as carelessly as my shaking voice would allow: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess I'll manage him,” and once more got into position. But no + sooner had I got into the saddle than the pony sprang straight up into the + air and lit with his back curved into a bow, his four legs gathered + together and so absolutely rigid that the shock made my teeth rattle. It + was my first experience of “bucking.” Then the little brute went seriously + to work to get rid of the rustling, flapping thing on his back. He would + back steadily for some seconds, then, with two or three forward plunges, + he would stop as if shot and spring straight into the upper air, lighting + with back curved and legs rigid as iron. Then he would walk on his hind + legs for a few steps, then throw himself with amazing rapidity to one side + and again proceed to buck with vicious diligence. + </p> + <p> + “Stick to him!” yelled Jack, through his shouts of laughter. “You'll make + him sick before long.” + </p> + <p> + I remember thinking that unless his insides were somewhat more delicately + organized than his external appearance would lead one to suppose the + chances were that the little brute would be the last to succumb to + sickness. To make matters worse, a wilder jump than ordinary threw my cape + up over my head, so that I was in complete darkness. And now he had me at + his mercy, and he knew no pity. He kicked and plunged and reared and + bucked, now on his front legs, now on his hind legs, often on his knees, + while I, in the darkness, could only cling to the horn of the saddle. At + last, in one of the gleams of light that penetrated the folds of my + enveloping cape, I found that the horn had slipped to his side, so the + next time he came to his knees I threw myself off. I am anxious to make + this point clear, for, from the expression of triumph on the face of the + grinning boy, and his encomiums of the pony, I gathered that he scored a + win for the cayuse. Without pause that little brute continued for some + seconds to buck and plunge even after my dismounting, as if he were some + piece of mechanism that must run down before it could stop. + </p> + <p> + By this time I was sick enough and badly shaken in my nerve, but the + triumphant shouts and laughter of the boy and the complacent smiles on the + faces of Jack and the half-breed stirred my wrath. I tore off the cape + and, having got the saddle put right, seized Jack's riding whip and, + disregarding his remonstrances, sprang on my steed once more, and before + he could make up his mind as to his line of action plied him so vigorously + with the rawhide that he set off over the prairie at full gallop, and in a + few minutes came round to the camp quite subdued, to the boy's great + disappointment and to my own great surprise. Jack was highly pleased, and + even the stolid face of the half-breed showed satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think I put this up on you,” Jack said. “It was that cape. He ain't + used to such frills. But it was a circus,” he added, going off into a fit + of laughter, “worth five dollars any day.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet!” said the half-breed. “Dat's make pretty beeg fun, eh?” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that it depended somewhat upon the point of view, but I + merely agreed with him, only too glad to be so well out of the fight. + </p> + <p> + All day we followed the trail that wound along the shoulders of the + round-topped hills or down their long slopes into the wide, grassy + valleys. Here and there the valleys were cut through by coulees through + which ran swift, blue-gray rivers, clear and icy cold, while from the + hilltops we caught glimpses of little lakes covered with wild-fowl that + shrieked and squawked and splashed, careless of danger. Now and then we + saw what made a black spot against the green of the prairie, and Jack told + me it was a rancher's shack. How remote from the great world, and how + lonely it seemed!—this little black shack among these multitudinous + hills. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget the summer evening when Jack and I rode into Swan + Creek. I say into—but the village was almost entirely one of + imagination, in that it consisted of the Stopping Place, a long log + building, a story and a half high, with stables behind, and the store in + which the post-office was kept and over which the owner dwelt. But the + situation was one of great beauty. On one side the prairie rambled down + from the hills and then stretched away in tawny levels into the misty + purple at the horizon; on the other it clambered over the round, sunny + tops to the dim blue of the mountains beyond. + </p> + <p> + In this world, where it is impossible to reach absolute values, we are + forced to hold things relatively, and in contrast with the long, lonely + miles of our ride during the day these two houses, with their + outbuildings, seemed a center of life. Some horses were tied to the rail + that ran along in front of the Stopping Place. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” said Jack, “I guess the Noble Seven are in town.” + </p> + <p> + “And who are they?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he replied, with a shrug, “they are the elite Of Swan Creek; and by + Jove,” he added, “this must be a Permit Night.” + </p> + <p> + “What does that mean?” I asked, as we rode up towards the tie rail. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Jack, in a low tone, for some men were standing about the + door, “you see, this is a prohibition country, but when one of the boys + feels as if he were going to have a spell of sickness he gets a permit to + bring in a few gallons for medicinal purposes; and of course, the other + boys being similarly exposed, he invites them to assist him in taking + preventive measures. And,” added Jack, with a solemn wink, “it is + remarkable, in a healthy country like this, how many epidemics come near + ketching us.” + </p> + <p> + And with this mystifying explanation we joined the mysterious company of + the Noble Seven. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <h3> + THE COMPANY OF THE NOBLE SEVEN + </h3> + <p> + As we were dismounting, the cries, “Hello, Jack!” “How do, Dale?” “Hello, + old Smoke!” in the heartiest of tones, made me see that my cousin was a + favorite with the men grouped about the door. Jack simply nodded in reply + and then presented me in due form. “My tenderfoot cousin from the effete,” + he said, with a flourish. I was surprised at the grace of the bows made me + by these roughly-dressed, wild-looking fellows. I might have been in a + London drawing-room. I was put at my ease at once by the kindliness of + their greeting, for, upon Jack's introduction, I was admitted at once into + their circle, which, to a tenderfoot, was usually closed. + </p> + <p> + What a hardy-looking lot they were! Brown, spare, sinewy and hard as + nails, they appeared like soldiers back from a hard campaign. They moved + and spoke with an easy, careless air of almost lazy indifference, but + their eyes had a trick of looking straight out at you, cool and fearless, + and you felt they were fit and ready. + </p> + <p> + That night I was initiated into the Company of the Noble Seven—but + of the ceremony I regret to say I retain but an indistinct memory; for + they drank as they rode, hard and long, and it was only Jack's care that + got me safely home that night. + </p> + <p> + The Company of the Noble Seven was the dominant social force in the Swan + Creek country. Indeed, it was the only social force Swan Creek knew. + Originally consisting of seven young fellows of the best blood of Britain, + “banded together for purposes of mutual improvement and social enjoyment,” + it had changed its character during the years, but not its name. First, + its membership was extended to include “approved colonials,” such as Jack + Dale and “others of kindred spirit,” under which head, I suppose, the two + cowboys from the Ashley Ranch, Hi Keadal and “Bronco” Bill—no one + knew and no one asked his other name—were admitted. Then its + purposes gradually limited themselves to those of a social nature, chiefly + in the line of poker-playing and whisky-drinking. Well born and delicately + bred in that atmosphere of culture mingled with a sturdy common sense and + a certain high chivalry which surrounds the stately homes of Britain, + these young lads, freed from the restraints of custom and surrounding, + soon shed all that was superficial in their make-up and stood forth in the + naked simplicity of their native manhood. The West discovered and revealed + the man in them, sometimes to their honor, often to their shame. The Chief + of the Company was the Hon. Fred Ashley, of the Ashley Ranch, sometime of + Ashley Court, England—a big, good-natured man with a magnificent + physique, a good income from home, and a beautiful wife, the Lady + Charlotte, daughter of a noble English family. At the Ashley Ranch the + traditions of Ashley Court were preserved as far as possible. The Hon. + Fred appeared at the wolf-hunts in riding-breeches and top boots, with + hunting crop and English saddle, while in all the appointments of the + house the customs of the English home were observed. It was + characteristic, however, of western life that his two cowboys, Hi Kendal + and Bronco Bill, felt themselves quite his social equals, though in the + presence of his beautiful, stately wife they confessed that they “rather + weakened.” Ashley was a thoroughly good fellow, well up to his work as a + cattle-man, and too much of a gentleman to feel, much less assert, any + superiority of station. He had the largest ranch in the country and was + one of the few men making money. + </p> + <p> + Ashley's chief friend, or, at least, most frequent companion, was a man + whom they called “The Duke.” No one knew his name, but every one said he + was “the son of a lord,” and certainly from his style and bearing he might + be the son of almost anything that was high enough in rank. He drew “a + remittance,” but, as that was paid through Ashley, no one knew whence it + came nor how much it was. He was a perfect picture of a man, and in all + western virtues was easily first. He could rope a steer, bunch cattle, + play poker or drink whisky to the admiration of his friends and the + confusion of his foes, of whom he had a few; while as to “bronco busting,” + the virtue par excellence of western cattle-men, even Bronco Bill was + heard to acknowledge that “he wasn't in it with the Dook, for it was his + opinion that he could ride anythin' that had legs in under it, even if it + was a blanked centipede.” And this, coming from one who made a profession + of “bronco busting,” was unquestionably high praise. The Duke lived alone, + except when he deigned to pay a visit to some lonely rancher who, for the + marvellous charm of his talk, was delighted to have him as guest, even at + the expense of the loss of a few games at poker. He made a friend of no + one, though some men could tell of times when he stood between them and + their last dollar, exacting only the promise that no mention should be + made of his deed. He had an easy, lazy manner and a slow cynical smile + that rarely left his face, and the only sign of deepening passion in him + was a little broadening of his smile. Old Latour, who kept the Stopping + Place, told me how once The Duke had broken into a gentle laugh. A French + half-breed freighter on his way north had entered into a game of poker + with The Duke, with the result that his six months' pay stood in a little + heap at his enemy's left hand. The enraged freighter accused his smiling + opponent of being a cheat, and was proceeding to demolish him with one + mighty blow. But The Duke, still smiling, and without moving from his + chair, caught the descending fist, slowly crushed the fingers open, and + steadily drew the Frenchman to his knees, gripping him so cruelly in the + meantime that he was forced to cry aloud in agony for mercy. Then it was + that The Duke broke into a light laugh and, touching the kneeling + Frenchman on his cheek with his finger-tips, said: “Look here, my man, you + shouldn't play the game till you know how to do it and with whom you + play.” Then, handing him back the money, he added: “I want money, but not + yours.” Then, as he sat looking at the unfortunate wretch dividing his + attention between his money and his bleeding fingers, he once more broke + into a gentle laugh that was not good to hear. + </p> + <p> + The Duke was by all odds the most striking figure in the Company of the + Noble Seven, and his word went farther than that of any other. His shadow + was Bruce, an Edinburgh University man, metaphysical, argumentative, + persistent, devoted to The Duke. Indeed, his chief ambition was to attain + to The Duke's high and lordly manner; but, inasmuch as he was rather squat + in figure and had an open, good-natured face and a Scotch voice of the + hard and rasping kind, his attempts at imitation were not conspicuously + successful. Every mail that reached Swan Creek brought him a letter from + home. At first, after I had got to know him, he would give me now and then + a letter to read, but as the tone became more and more anxious he ceased + to let me read them, and I was glad enough of this. How he could read + those letters and go the pace of the Noble Seven I could not see. Poor + Bruce! He had good impulses, a generous heart, but the “Permit” nights and + the hunts and the “roundups” and the poker and all the wild excesses of + the Company were more than he could stand. + </p> + <p> + Then there were the two Hill brothers, the younger, Bertie, a fair-haired, + bright-faced youngster, none too able to look after himself, but much + inclined to follies of all degrees and sorts. But he was warm-hearted and + devoted to his big brother, Humphrey, called “Hump,” who had taken to + ranching mainly with the idea of looking after his younger brother. And no + easy matter that was, for every one liked the lad and in consequence + helped him down. + </p> + <p> + In addition to these there were two others of the original seven, but by + force of circumstances they were prevented from any more than a nominal + connection with the Company. Blake, a typical wild Irishman, had joined + the police at the Fort, and Gifford had got married and, as Bill said, + “was roped tighter'n a steer.” + </p> + <p> + The Noble Company, with the cowboys that helped on the range and two or + three farmers that lived nearer the Fort, composed the settlers of the + Swan Creek country. A strange medley of people of all ranks and nations, + but while among them there were the evil-hearted and evil-living, still, + for the Noble Company I will say that never have I fallen in with men + braver, truer, or of warmer heart. Vices they had, all too apparent and + deadly, but they were due rather to the circumstances of their lives than + to the native tendencies of their hearts. Throughout that summer and the + winter following I lived among them, camping on the range with them and + sleeping in their shacks, bunching cattle in summer and hunting wolves in + winter, nor did I, for I was no wiser than they, refuse my part on + “Permit” nights; but through all not a man of them ever failed to be true + to his standard of honor in the duties of comradeship and brotherhood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <h3> + THE COMING OF THE PILOT + </h3> + <p> + He was the first missionary ever seen in the country, and it was the Old + Timer who named him. The Old Timer's advent to the Foothill country was + prehistoric, and his influence was, in consequence, immense. No one + ventured to disagree with him, for to disagree with the Old Timer was to + write yourself down a tenderfoot, which no one, of course, cared to do. It + was a misfortune which only time could repair to be a new-comer, and it + was every new-comer's aim to assume with all possible speed the style and + customs of the aristocratic Old Timers, and to forget as soon as possible + the date of his own arrival. So it was as “The Sky Pilot,” familiarly “The + Pilot,” that the missionary went for many a day in the Swan Creek country. + </p> + <p> + I had become schoolmaster of Swan Creek. For in the spring a kind + Providence sent in the Muirs and the Bremans with housefuls of children, + to the ranchers' disgust, for they foresaw ploughed fields and barbed-wire + fences cramping their unlimited ranges. A school became necessary. A + little log building was erected and I was appointed schoolmaster. It was + as schoolmaster that I first came to touch The Pilot, for the letter which + the Hudson Bay freighters brought me early one summer evening bore the + inscription: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The Schoolmaster, + Public School, + Swan Creek, + Alberta. +</pre> + <p> + There was altogether a fine air about the letter; the writing was in fine, + small hand, the tone was fine, and there was something fine in the + signature—“Arthur Wellington Moore.” He was glad to know that there + was a school and a teacher in Swan Creek, for a school meant children, in + whom his soul delighted; and in the teacher he would find a friend, and + without a friend he could not live. He took me into his confidence, + telling me that though he had volunteered for this far-away mission field + he was not much of a preacher and he was not at all sure that he would + succeed. But he meant to try, and he was charmed at the prospect of having + one sympathizer at least. Would I be kind enough to put up in some + conspicuous place the enclosed notice, filling in the blanks as I thought + best? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Divine service will be held at Swan creek + in —— ——- at —— o'clock. + All are cordially invited. + Arthur Wellington Moore.” + </pre> + <p> + On the whole I liked his letter. I liked its modest self-depreciation and + I liked its cool assumption of my sympathy and co-operation. But I was + perplexed. I remembered that Sunday was the day fixed for the great + baseball match, when those from “Home,” as they fondly called the land + across the sea from which they had come, were to “wipe the earth” with all + comers. Besides, “Divine service” was an innovation in Swan Creek and I + felt sure that, like all innovations that suggested the approach of the + East, it would be by no means welcome. + </p> + <p> + However, immediately under the notice of the “Grand Baseball Match for + 'The Pain Killer' a week from Sunday, at 2:30, Home vs. the World,” I + pinned on the door of the Stopping Place the announcement: + </p> + <p> + “Divine service will be held at Swan Creek, in the Stopping Place Parlor, + a week from Sunday, immediately upon the conclusion of the baseball match. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur Wellington Moore.” + </p> + <p> + There was a strange incongruity in the two, and an unconscious challenge + as well. + </p> + <p> + All next day, which was Saturday, and, indeed, during the following week, + I stood guard over my notice, enjoying the excitement it produced and the + comments it called forth. It was the advance wave of the great ocean of + civilization which many of them had been glad to leave behind—some + could have wished forever. + </p> + <p> + To Robert Muir, one of the farmers newly arrived, the notice was a + harbinger of good. It stood for progress, markets and a higher price for + land; albeit he wondered “hoo he wad be keepit up.” But his hard-wrought, + quick-spoken little wife at his elbow “hooted” his scruples and, thinking + of her growing lads, welcomed with unmixed satisfaction the coming of “the + meenister.” Her satisfaction was shared by all the mothers and most of the + fathers in the settlement; but by the others, and especially by that + rollicking, roistering crew, the Company of the Noble Seven, the + missionary's coming was viewed with varying degrees of animosity. It meant + a limitation of freedom in their wildly reckless living. The “Permit” + nights would now, to say the least, be subject to criticism; the Sunday + wolf-hunts and horse-races, with their attendant delights, would now be + pursued under the eye of the Church, and this would not add to the + enjoyment of them. One great charm of the country, which Bruce, himself + the son of an Edinburgh minister, and now Secretary of the Noble Seven, + described as “letting a fellow do as he blanked pleased,” would be gone. + None resented more bitterly than he the missionary's intrusion, which he + declared to be an attempt “to reimpose upon their freedom the trammels of + an antiquated and bigoted conventionality.” But the rest of the Company, + while not taking so decided a stand, were agreed that the establishment of + a church institution was an objectionable and impertinent as well as + unnecessary proceeding. + </p> + <p> + Of course, Hi Kendal and his friend Bronco Bill had no opinion one way or + the other. The Church could hardly affect them even remotely. A dozen + years' stay in Montana had proved with sufficient clearness to them that a + church was a luxury of civilization the West might well do without. + </p> + <p> + Outside the Company of the Noble Seven there was only one whose opinion + had value in Swan Creek, and that was the Old Timer. The Company had + sought to bring him in by making him an honorary member, but he refused to + be drawn from his home far up among the hills, where he lived with his + little girl Gwen and her old half-breed nurse, Ponka. The approach of the + church he seemed to resent as a personal injury. It represented to him + that civilization from which he had fled fifteen years ago with his wife + and baby girl, and when five years later he laid his wife in the lonely + grave that could be seen on the shaded knoll just fronting his cabin door, + the last link to his past was broken. From all that suggested the great + world beyond the run of the Prairie he shrank as one shrinks from a sudden + touch upon an old wound. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll have to move back,” he said to me gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” I said in surprise, thinking of his grazing range, which was ample + for his herd. + </p> + <p> + “This blank Sky Pilot.” He never swore except when unusually moved. + </p> + <p> + “Sky Pilot?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + He nodded and silently pointed to the notice. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, he won't hurt you, will he?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't stand it,” he answered savagely, “must get away.” + </p> + <p> + “What about Gwen?” I ventured, for she was the light of his eyes. “Pity to + stop her studies.” I was giving her weekly lessons at the old man's ranch. + </p> + <p> + “Dunno. Ain't figgered out yet about that baby.” She was still his baby. + “Guess she's all she wants for the Foothills, anyway. What's the use?” he + added, bitterly, talking to himself after the manner of men who live much + alone. + </p> + <p> + I waited for a moment, then said: “Well, I wouldn't hurry about doing + anything,” knowing well that the one thing an old-timer hates to do is to + make any change in his mode of life. “Maybe he won't stay.” + </p> + <p> + He caught at this eagerly. “That's so! There ain't much to keep him, + anyway,” and he rode off to his lonely ranch far up in the hills. + </p> + <p> + I looked after the swaying figure and tried to picture his past with its + tragedy; then I found myself wondering how he would end and what would + come to his little girl. And I made up my mind that if the missionary were + the right sort his coming might not be a bad thing for the Old Timer and + perhaps for more than him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <h3> + THE PILOT'S MEASURE + </h3> + <p> + It was Hi Kendal that announced the arrival of the missionary. I was + standing at the door of my school, watching the children ride off home on + their ponies, when Hi came loping along on his bronco in the loose-jointed + cowboy style. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he drawled out, bringing his bronco to a dead stop in a single + bound, “he's lit.” + </p> + <p> + “Lit? Where? What?” said I, looking round for an eagle or some other + flying thing. + </p> + <p> + “Your blanked Sky Pilot, and he's a beauty, a pretty kid—looks too + tender for this climate. Better not let him out on the range.” Hi was + quite disgusted, evidently. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with him, Hi?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, HE ain't no parson! I don't go much on parsons, but when I calls for + one I don't want no bantam chicken. No, sirree, horse! I don't want no + blankety-blank, pink-and-white complected nursery kid foolin' round my + graveyard. If you're goin' to bring along a parson, why bring him with his + eye-teeth cut and his tail feathers on.” + </p> + <p> + That Hi was deeply disappointed was quite clear from the selection of the + profanity with which he adorned this lengthy address. It was never the + extent of his profanity, but the choice, that indicated Hi's interest in + any subject. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, the outlook for the missionary was not encouraging. With the + single exception of the Muirs, who really counted for little, nobody + wanted him. To most of the reckless young bloods of the Company of the + Noble Seven his presence was an offence; to others simply a nuisance, + while the Old Timer regarded his advent with something like dismay; and + now Hi's impression of his personal appearance was not cheering. + </p> + <p> + My first sight of him did not reassure me. He was very slight, very young, + very innocent, with a face that might do for an angel, except for the + touch of humor in it, but which seemed strangely out of place among the + rough, hard faces that were to be seen in the Swan Creek Country. It was + not a weak face, however. The forehead was high and square, the mouth + firm, and the eyes were luminous, of some dark color—violet, if + there is such a color in eyes—dreamy or sparkling, according to his + mood; eyes for which a woman might find use, but which, in a missionary's + head, appeared to me one of those extraordinary wastes of which Nature is + sometimes guilty. + </p> + <p> + He was gazing far away into space infinitely beyond the Foothills and the + blue line of the mountains behind them. He turned to me as I drew near, + with eyes alight and face glowing. + </p> + <p> + “It is glorious,” he almost panted. “You see this everyday!” Then, + recalling himself, he came eagerly toward me, stretching out his hand. + “You are the schoolmaster, I know. Do you know, it's a great thing? I + wanted to be one, but I never could get the boys on. They always got me + telling them tales. I was awfully disappointed. I am trying the next best + thing. You see, I won't have to keep order, but I don't think I can preach + very well. I am going to visit your school. Have you many scholars? Do you + know, I think it's splendid? I wish I could do it.” + </p> + <p> + I had intended to be somewhat stiff with him, but his evident admiration + of me made me quite forget this laudable intention, and, as he talked on + without waiting for an answer, his enthusiasm, his deference to my + opinion, his charm of manner, his beautiful face, his luminous eyes, made + him perfectly irresistible; and before I was aware I was listening to his + plans for working his mission with eager interest. So eager was my + interest, indeed, that before I was aware I found myself asking him to tea + with me in my shack. But he declined, saying: + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to, awfully; but do you know, I think Latour expects me.” + </p> + <p> + This consideration of Latour's feelings almost upset me. + </p> + <p> + “You come with me,” he added, and I went. + </p> + <p> + Latour welcomed us with his grim old face wreathed in unusual smiles. The + pilot had been talking to him, too. + </p> + <p> + “I've got it, Latour!” he cried out as he entered; “here you are,” and he + broke into the beautiful French-Canadian chanson, “A la Claire Fontaine,” + to the old half-breed's almost tearful delight. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know,” he went on, “I heard that first down the Mattawa,” and away + he went into a story of an experience with French-Canadian raftsmen, + mixing up his French and English in so charming a manner that Latour; who + in his younger days long ago had been a shantyman himself, hardly knew + whether he was standing on his head or on his heels. + </p> + <p> + After tea I proposed a ride out to see the sunset from the nearest rising + ground. Latour, with unexampled generosity, offered his own cayuse, + “Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't ride well,” protested The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! dat's good ponee, Louis,” urged Latour. “He's quiet lak wan leetle + mouse; he's ride lak—what you call?—wan horse-on-de-rock.” + Under which persuasion the pony was accepted. + </p> + <p> + That evening I saw the Swan Creek country with new eyes—through the + luminous eyes of The Pilot. We rode up the trail by the side of the Swan + till we came to the coulee mouth, dark and full of mystery. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” I said, “we must get to the top for the sunset.” + </p> + <p> + He looked lingeringly into the deep shadows and asked: “Anything live down + there?” + </p> + <p> + “Coyotes and wolves and ghosts.” + </p> + <p> + “Ghosts?” he asked, delightedly. “Do you know, I was sure there were, and + I'm quite sure I shall see them.” + </p> + <p> + Then we took the Porcupine trail and climbed for about two miles the + gentle slope to the top of the first rising ground. There we stayed and + watched the sun take his nightly plunge into the sea of mountains, now + dimly visible. Behind us stretched the prairie, sweeping out level to the + sky and cut by the winding coulee of the Swan. Great long shadows from the + hills were lying upon its yellow face, and far at the distant edge the + gray haze was deepening into purple. Before us lay the hills, softly + curving like the shoulders of great sleeping monsters, their tops still + bright, but the separating valleys full of shadow. And there, far beyond + them, up against the sky, was the line of the mountains—blue, + purple, and gold, according as the light fell upon them. The sun had taken + his plunge, but he had left behind him his robes of saffron and gold. We + stood long without a word or movement, filling our hearts with the silence + and the beauty, till the gold in the west began to grow dim. High above + all the night was stretching her star-pierced, blue canopy, and drawing + slowly up from the east over the prairie and over the sleeping hills the + soft folds of a purple haze. The great silence of the dying day had fallen + upon the world and held us fast. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, in a low tone, pointing to the hills. “Can't you hear + them breathe?” And, looking at their curving shoulders, I fancied I could + see them slowly heaving as if in heavy sleep, and I was quite sure I could + hear them breathe. I was under the spell of his voice and his eyes, and + nature was all living to me then. + </p> + <p> + We rode back to the Stopping Place in silence, except for a word of mine + now and then which he heeded not; and, with hardly a good night, he left + me at the door. I turned away feeling as if I had been in a strange + country and among strange people. + </p> + <p> + How would he do with the Swan Creek folk? Could he make them see the hills + breathe? Would they feel as I felt under his voice and eyes? What a + curious mixture he was! I was doubtful about his first Sunday, and was + surprised to find all my indifference as to his success or failure gone. + It was a pity about the baseball match. I would speak to some of the men + about it to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Hi might be disappointed in his appearance, but, as I turned into my shack + and thought over my last two hours with The Pilot and how he had “got” old + Latour and myself, I began to think that Hi might be mistaken in his + measure of The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <h3> + FIRST BLOOD + </h3> + <p> + One is never so enthusiastic in the early morning, when the emotions are + calmest and the nerves at their steadiest. But I was determined to try to + have the baseball match postponed. There could be no difficulty. One day + was as much of a holiday as another to these easy-going fellows. But The + Duke, when I suggested a change in the day, simply raised his eyebrows an + eighth of an inch and said: + </p> + <p> + “Can't see why the day should be changed.” Bruce stormed and swore all + sorts of destruction upon himself if he was going to change his style of + life for any man. The others followed The Duke's lead. + </p> + <p> + That Sunday was a day of incongruities. The Old and the New, the East and + the West, the reverential Past and iconoclastic Present were jumbling + themselves together in bewildering confusion. The baseball match was + played with much vigor and profanity. The expression on The Pilot's face, + as he stood watching for a while, was a curious mixture of interest, + surprise, doubt and pain. He was readjusting himself. He was so made as to + be extremely sensitive to his surroundings. He took on color quickly. The + utter indifference to the audacious disregard of all he had hitherto + considered sacred and essential was disconcerting. They were all so dead + sure. How did he know they were wrong? It was his first near view of + practical, living skepticism. Skepticism in a book did not disturb him; he + could put down words against it. But here it was alive, cheerful, + attractive, indeed fascinating; for these men in their western garb and + with their western swing had captured his imagination. He was in a fierce + struggle, and in a few minutes I saw him disappear into the coulee. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the match went uproariously on to a finish, with the result that + the champions of “Home” had “to stand The Painkiller,” their defeat being + due chiefly to the work of Hi and Bronco Bill as pitcher and catcher. + </p> + <p> + The celebration was in full swing; or as Hi put it, “the boys were takin' + their pizen good an' calm,” when in walked The Pilot. His face was still + troubled and his lips were drawn and blue, as if he were in pain. A + silence fell on the men as he walked in through the crowd and up to the + bar. He stood a moment hesitating, looking round upon the faces flushed + and hot that were now turned toward him in curious defiance. He noticed + the look, and it pulled him together. He faced about toward old Latour and + asked in a high, clear voice: + </p> + <p> + “Is this the room you said we might have?” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and said: + </p> + <p> + “There is not any more.” + </p> + <p> + The lad paused for an instant, but only for an instant. Then, lifting a + pile of hymn books he had near him on the counter, he said in a grave, + sweet voice, and with the quiver of a smile about his lips: + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, Mr. Latour has allowed me this room for a religious service. + It will give me great pleasure if you will all join,” and immediately he + handed a book to Bronco Bill, who, surprised, took it as if he did not + know what to do with it. The others followed Bronco's lead till he came to + Bruce, who refused, saying roughly: + </p> + <p> + “No! I don't want it; I've no use for it.” + </p> + <p> + The missionary flushed and drew back as if he had been struck, but + immediately, as if unconsciously, The Duke, who was standing near, + stretched out his hand and said, with a courteous bow, “I thank you; I + should be glad of one.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” replied The Pilot, simply, as he handed him a book. The men + seated themselves upon the bench that ran round the room, or leaned up + against the counter, and most of them took off their hats. Just then in + came Muir, and behind him his little wife. + </p> + <p> + In an instant The Duke was on his feet, and every hat came off. + </p> + <p> + The missionary stood up at the bar, and announced the hymn, “Jesus, Lover + of My Soul.” The silence that followed was broken by the sound of a horse + galloping. A buckskin bronco shot past the window, and in a few moments + there appeared at the door the Old Timer. He was about to stride in when + the unusual sight of a row of men sitting solemnly with hymn books in + their hands held him fast at the door. He gazed in an amazed, helpless way + upon the men, then at the missionary, then back at the men, and stood + speechless. Suddenly there was a high, shrill, boyish laugh, and the men + turned to see the missionary in a fit of laughter. It certainly was a + shock to any lingering ideas of religious propriety they might have about + them; but the contrast between his frank, laughing face and the amazed and + disgusted face of the shaggy old man in the doorway was too much for them, + and one by one they gave way to roars of laughter. The Old Timer, however, + kept his face unmoved, strode up to the bar and nodded to old Latour, who + served him his drink, which he took at a gulp. + </p> + <p> + “Here, old man!” called out Bill, “get into the game; here's your deck,” + offering him his book. But the missionary was before him, and, with very + beautiful grace, he handed the Old Timer a book and pointed him to a seat. + </p> + <p> + I shall never forget that service. As a religious affair it was a dead + failure, but somehow I think The Pilot, as Hi approvingly said, “got in + his funny work,” and it was not wholly a defeat. The first hymn was sung + chiefly by the missionary and Mrs. Muir, whose voice was very high, with + one or two of the men softly whistling an accompaniment. The second hymn + was better, and then came the Lesson, the story of the feeding of the five + thousand. As the missionary finished the story, Bill, who had been + listening with great interest, said: + </p> + <p> + “I say, pard, I think I'll call you just now.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon!” said the startled missionary. + </p> + <p> + “You're givin' us quite a song and dance now, ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand,” was the puzzled reply. + </p> + <p> + “How many men was there in the crowd?” asked Bill, with a judicial air. + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “And how much grub?” + </p> + <p> + “Five loaves and two fishes,” answered Bruce for the missionary. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” drawled Bill, with the air of a man who has reached a conclusion, + “that's a little too unusual for me. Why,” looking pityingly at the + missionary, “it ain't natarel.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, my boy,” said Bruce, with a laugh. “It's deucedly + unnatural.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for Him,” said the missionary, quietly. Then Bruce joyfully took him + up and led him on into a discussion of evidences, and from evidences into + metaphysics, the origin of evil and the freedom of the will, till the + missionary, as Bill said, “was rattled worse nor a rooster in the dark.” + Poor little Mrs. Muir was much scandalized and looked anxiously at her + husband, wishing him to take her out. But help came from an unexpected + quarter, and Hi suddenly called out: + </p> + <p> + “Here you, Bill, shut your blanked jaw, and you, Bruce, give the man a + chance to work off his music.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so! Fair play! Go on!” were the cries that came in response to + Hi's appeal. + </p> + <p> + The missionary, who was all trembling and much troubled, gave Hi a + grateful look, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid there are a great many things I don't understand, and I am not + good at argument.” There were shouts of “Go on! fire ahead, play the + game!” but he said, “I think we will close the service with a hymn.” His + frankness and modesty, and his respectful, courteous manner gained the + sympathy of the men, so that all joined heartily in singing, “Sun of My + Soul.” In the prayer that followed his voice grew steady and his nerve + came back to him. The words were very simple, and the petitions were + mostly for light and for strength. With a few words of remembrance of + “those in our homes far away who think of us and pray for us and never + forget,” this strange service was brought to a close. + </p> + <p> + After the missionary had stepped out, the whole affair was discussed with + great warmth. Hi Kendal thought “The Pilot didn't have no fair show,” + maintaining that when he was “ropin' a steer he didn't want no blanked + tenderfoot to be shovin' in his rope like Bill there.” But Bill steadily + maintained his position that “the story of that there picnic was a little + too unusual” for him. Bruce was trying meanwhile to beguile The Duke into + a discussion of the physics and metaphysics of the case. But The Duke + refused with quiet contempt to be drawn into a region where he felt + himself a stranger. He preferred poker himself, if Bruce cared to take a + hand; and so the evening went on, with the theological discussion by Hi + and Bill in a judicial, friendly spirit in one corner, while the others + for the most part played poker. + </p> + <p> + When the missionary returned late there were only a few left in the room, + among them The Duke and Bruce, who was drinking steadily and losing money. + The missionary's presence seemed to irritate him, and he played even more + recklessly than usual, swearing deeply at every loss. At the door the + missionary stood looking up into the night sky and humming softly “Sun of + My Soul,” and after a few minutes The Duke joined in humming a bass to the + air till Bruce could contain himself no longer. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” he called out, “this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is it?” + </p> + <p> + The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly: “Well, what + is it? What's the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Trouble!” shouted Bruce. “I don't see what hymn-singing has to do with a + poker game.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing?” said The Duke. Then after a + pause he added, “You're quite right. I say, Bruce, let's quit. Something + has got on to your nerves.” And coolly sweeping his pile into his pocket, + he gave up the game. With an oath Bruce left the table, took another + drink, and went unsteadily out to his horse, and soon we heard him ride + away into the darkness, singing snatches of the hymn and swearing the most + awful oaths. + </p> + <p> + The missionary's face was white with horror. It was all new and horrible + to him. + </p> + <p> + “Will he get safely home?” he asked of The Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you worry, youngster,” said The Duke, in his loftiest manner, + “he'll get along.” + </p> + <p> + The luminous, dreamy eyes grew hard and bright as they looked The Duke in + the face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I shall worry; but you ought to worry more.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said The Duke, raising his brows and smiling gently upon the bright, + stern young face lifted up to his. “I didn't notice that I had asked your + opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “If anything should happen to him,” replied the missionary, quickly, “I + should consider you largely responsible.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be kind,” said The Duke, still smiling with his lips. But + after a moment's steady look into the missionary's eyes he nodded his head + twice or thrice, and, without further word, turned away. + </p> + <p> + The missionary turned eagerly to me: + </p> + <p> + “They beat me this afternoon,” he cried, “but thank God, I know now they + are wrong and I am right! I don't understand! I can't see my way through! + But I am right! It's true! I feel it's true! Men can't live without Him, + and be men!” + </p> + <p> + And long after I went to my shack that night I saw before me the eager + face with the luminous eyes and heard the triumphant cry: “I feel it's + true! Men can't live without Him, and be men!” and I knew that though his + first Sunday ended in defeat there was victory yet awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + HIS SECOND WIND + </h3> + <p> + The first weeks were not pleasant for The Pilot. He had been beaten, and + the sense of failure damped his fine enthusiasm, which was one of his + chief charms. The Noble Seven despised, ignored, or laughed at him, + according to their mood and disposition. Bruce patronized him; and, worst + of all, the Muirs pitied him. This last it was that brought him low, and I + was glad of it. I find it hard to put up with a man that enjoys pity. + </p> + <p> + It was Hi Kendal that restored him, though Hi had no thought of doing so + good a deed. It was in this way: A baseball match was on with The + Porcupines from near the Fort. To Hi's disgust and the team's dismay Bill + failed to appear. It was Hi's delight to stand up for Bill's pitching, and + their battery was the glory of the Home team. + </p> + <p> + “Try The Pilot, Hi,” said some one, chaffing him. + </p> + <p> + Hi looked glumly across at The Pilot standing some distance, away; then + called out, holding up the ball: + </p> + <p> + “Can you play the game?” + </p> + <p> + For answer Moore held up his hands for a catch. Hi tossed him the ball + easily. The ball came back so quickly that Hi was hardly ready, and the + jar seemed to amaze him exceedingly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take him,” he said, doubtfully, and the game began. Hi fitted on his + mask, a new importation and his peculiar pride, and waited. + </p> + <p> + “How do you like them?” asked The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “Hot!” said Hi. “I hain't got no gloves to burn.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot turned his back, swung off one foot on to the other and + discharged his ball. + </p> + <p> + “Strike!” called the umpire. + </p> + <p> + “You bet!” said Hi, with emphasis, but his face was a picture of amazement + and dawning delight. + </p> + <p> + Again The Pilot went through the manoeuvre in his box and again the umpire + called: + </p> + <p> + “Strike!” + </p> + <p> + Hi stopped the ball without holding it and set himself for the third. Once + more that disconcerting swing and the whip-like action of the arm, and for + the third time the umpire called: + </p> + <p> + “Strike! Striker out!” + </p> + <p> + “That's the hole,” yelled Hi. + </p> + <p> + The Porcupines were amazed. Hi looked at the ball in his hand, then at the + slight figure of The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “I say! where do you get it?” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Moore innocently. + </p> + <p> + “The gait!” + </p> + <p> + “The what?” + </p> + <p> + “The gait! the speed, you know!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I used to play in Princeton a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Did, eh? What the blank blank did you quit for?” + </p> + <p> + He evidently regarded the exchange of the profession of baseball for the + study of theology as a serious error in judgment, and in this opinion + every inning of the game confirmed him. At the bat The Pilot did not + shine, but he made up for light hitting by his base-running. He was fleet + as a deer, and he knew the game thoroughly. He was keen, eager, intense in + play, and before the innings were half over he was recognized as the best + all-round man on the field. In the pitcher's box he puzzled the Porcupines + till they grew desperate and hit wildly and blindly, amid the jeers of the + spectators. The bewilderment of the Porcupines was equaled only by the + enthusiasm of Hi and his nine, and when the game was over the score stood + 37 to 7 in favor of the Home team. They carried The Pilot off the field. + </p> + <p> + From that day Moore was another man. He had won the unqualified respect of + Hi Kendal and most of the others, for he could beat them at their own game + and still be modest about it. Once more his enthusiasm came back and his + brightness and his courage. The Duke was not present to witness his + triumph, and, besides, he rather despised the game. Bruce was there, + however, but took no part in the general acclaim; indeed, he seemed rather + disgusted with Moore's sudden leap into favor. Certainly his hostility to + The Pilot and to all that he stood for was none the less open and bitter. + </p> + <p> + The hostility was more than usually marked at the service held on the + Sunday following. It was, perhaps, thrown into stronger relief by the open + and delighted approval of Hi, who was prepared to back up anything The + Pilot would venture to say. Bill, who had not witnessed The Pilot's + performance in the pitcher's box, but had only Hi's enthusiastic report to + go upon, still preserved his judicial air. It is fair to say, however, + that there was no mean-spirited jealousy in Bill's heart even though Hi + had frankly assured him that The Pilot was “a demon,” and could “give him + points.” Bill had great confidence in Hi's opinion upon baseball, but he + was not prepared to surrender his right of private judgment in matters + theological, so he waited for the sermon before committing himself to any + enthusiastic approval. This service was an undoubted success. The singing + was hearty, and insensibly the men fell into a reverent attitude during + prayer. The theme, too, was one that gave little room for skepticism. It + was the story of Zaccheus, and story-telling was Moore's strong point. The + thing was well done. Vivid portraitures of the outcast, shrewd, converted + publican and the supercilious, self-complacent, critical Pharisee were + drawn with a few deft touches. A single sentence transferred them to the + Foothills and arrayed them in cowboy garb. Bill was none too sure of + himself, but Hi, with delightful winks, was indicating Bruce as the + Pharisee, to the latter's scornful disgust. The preacher must have + noticed, for with a very clever turn the Pharisee was shown to be the kind + of man who likes to fit faults upon others. Then Bill, digging his elbows + into Hi's ribs, said in an audible whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Say, pardner, how does it fit now?” + </p> + <p> + “You git out!” answered Hi, indignantly, but his confidence in his + interpretation of the application was shaken. When Moore came to describe + the Master and His place in that ancient group, we in the Stopping Place + parlor fell under the spell of his eyes and voice, and our hearts were + moved within us. That great Personality was made very real and very + winning. Hi was quite subdued by the story and the picture. Bill was + perplexed; it was all new to him; but Bruce was mainly irritated. To him + it was all old and filled with memories he hated to face. At any rate he + was unusually savage that evening, drank heavily and went home late, + raging and cursing at things in general and The Pilot in particular—for + Moore, in a timid sort of way, had tried to quiet him and help him to his + horse. + </p> + <p> + “Ornery sort o' beast now, ain't he?” said Hi, with the idea of comforting + The Pilot, who stood sadly looking after Bruce disappearing in the gloom. + </p> + <p> + “No! no!” he answered, quickly, “not a beast, but a brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Brother! Not much, if I know my relations!” answered Hi, disgustedly. + </p> + <p> + “The Master thinks a good deal of him,” was the earnest reply. + </p> + <p> + “Git out!” said Hi, “you don't mean it! Why,” he added, decidedly, “he's + more stuck on himself than that mean old cuss you was tellin' about this + afternoon, and without half the reason.” + </p> + <p> + But Moore only said, kindly, “Don't be hard on him, Hi,” and turned away, + leaving Hi and Bill gravely discussing the question, with the aid of + several drinks of whisky. They were still discussing when, an hour later, + they, too, disappeared into the darkness that swallowed up the trail to + Ashley Ranch. That was the first of many such services. The preaching was + always of the simplest kind, abstract questions being avoided and the + concrete in those wonderful Bible tales, dressed in modern and in western + garb, set forth. Bill and Hi were more than ever his friends and + champions, and the latter was heard exultantly to exclaim to Bruce: + </p> + <p> + “He ain't much to look at as a parson, but he's a-ketchin' his second + wind, and 'fore long you won't see him for dust.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <h3> + THE LAST OF THE PERMIT SUNDAYS + </h3> + <p> + The spring “round-ups” were all over and Bruce had nothing to do but to + loaf about the Stopping Place, drinking old Latour's bad whisky and making + himself a nuisance. In vain The Pilot tried to win him with loans of books + and magazines and other kindly courtesies. He would be decent for a day + and then would break forth in violent argumentation against religion and + all who held to it. He sorely missed The Duke, who was away south on one + of his periodic journeys, of which no one knew anything or cared to ask. + The Duke's presence always steadied Bruce and took the rasp out of his + manners. It was rather a relief to all that he was absent from the next + fortnightly service, though Moore declared he was ashamed to confess this + relief. + </p> + <p> + “I can't touch him,” he said to me, after the service; “he is far too + clever, but,” and his voice was full of pain, “I'd give something to help + him.” + </p> + <p> + “If he doesn't quit his nonsense,” I replied, “he'll soon be past helping. + He doesn't go out on his range, his few cattle wander everywhere, his + shack is in a beastly state, and he himself is going to pieces, miserable + fool that he is.” For it did seem a shame that a fellow should so throw + himself away for nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You are hard,” said Moore, with his eyes upon me. + </p> + <p> + “Hard? Isn't it true?” I answered, hotly. “Then, there's his mother at + home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but can he help it? Is it all his fault?” he replied, with his + steady eyes still looking into me. + </p> + <p> + “His fault? Whose fault, then?” + </p> + <p> + “What of the Noble Seven? Have they anything to do with this?” His voice + was quiet, but there was an arresting intensity in it. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, rather weakly, “a man ought to look after himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!—and his brother a little.” Then, he added: “What have any of + you done to help him? The Duke could have pulled him up a year ago if he + had been willing to deny himself a little, and so with all of you. You all + do just what pleases you regardless of any other, and so you help one + another down.” + </p> + <p> + I could not find anything just then to say, though afterwards many things + came to me; for, though his voice was quiet and low, his eyes were glowing + and his face was alight with the fire that burned within, and I felt like + one convicted of a crime. This was certainly a new doctrine for the West; + an uncomfortable doctrine to practice, interfering seriously with personal + liberty, but in The Pilot's way of viewing things difficult to escape. + There would be no end to one's responsibility. I refused to think it out. + </p> + <p> + Within a fortnight we were thinking it out with some intentness. The Noble + Seven were to have a great “blow-out” at the Hill brothers' ranch. The + Duke had got home from his southern trip a little more weary-looking and a + little more cynical in his smile. The “blow-out” was to be held on Permit + Sunday, the alternate to the Preaching Sunday, which was a concession to + The Pilot, secured chiefly through the influence of Hi and his baseball + nine. It was something to have created the situation involved in the + distinction between Preaching and Permit Sundays. Hi put it rather + graphically. “The devil takes his innin's one Sunday and The Pilot the + next,” adding emphatically, “He hain't done much scorin' yit, but my + money's on The Pilot, you bet!” Bill was more cautious and preferred to + wait developments. And developments were rapid. + </p> + <p> + The Hill brothers' meet was unusually successful from a social point of + view. Several Permits had been requisitioned, and whisky and beer + abounded. Races all day and poker all night and drinks of various brews + both day and night, with varying impromptu diversions—such as + shooting the horns off wandering steers—were the social amenities + indulged in by the noble company. On Monday evening I rode out to the + ranch, urged by Moore, who was anxious that someone should look after + Bruce. + </p> + <p> + “I don't belong to them,” he said, “you do. They won't resent your + coming.” + </p> + <p> + Nor did they. They were sitting at tea, and welcomed me with a shout. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, old domine!” yelled Bruce, “where's your preacher friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Where you ought to be, if you could get there—at home,” I replied, + nettled at his insolent tone. + </p> + <p> + “Strike one!” called out Hi, enthusiastically, not approving Bruce's + attitude toward his friend, The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be so acute,” said Bruce, after the laugh had passed, “but have a + drink.” + </p> + <p> + He was flushed and very shaky and very noisy. The Duke, at the head of the + table, looked a little harder than usual, but, though pale, was quite + steady. The others were all more or less nerve-broken, and about the room + were the signs of a wild night. A bench was upset, while broken bottles + and crockery lay strewn about over a floor reeking with filth. The disgust + on my face called forth an apology from the younger Hill, who was serving + up ham and eggs as best he could to the men lounging about the table. + </p> + <p> + “It's my housemaid's afternoon out,” he explained gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Gone for a walk in the park,” added an other. + </p> + <p> + “Hope MISTER Connor will pardon the absence,” sneered Bruce, in his most + offensive manner. + </p> + <p> + “Don't mind him,” said Hi, under his breath, “the blue devils are runnin' + him down.” + </p> + <p> + This became more evident as the evening went on. From hilarity Bruce + passed to sullen ferocity, with spasms of nervous terror. Hi's attempts to + soothe him finally drove him mad, and he drew his revolver, declaring he + could look after himself, in proof of which he began to shoot out the + lights. + </p> + <p> + The men scrambled into safe corners, all but The Duke, who stood quietly + by watching Bruce shoot. Then saying: + </p> + <p> + “Let me have a try, Bruce,” he reached across and caught his hand. + </p> + <p> + “No! you don't,” said Bruce, struggling. “No man gets my gun.” + </p> + <p> + He tore madly at the gripping hand with both of his, but in vain, calling + out with frightful oaths: + </p> + <p> + “Let go! let go! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!” + </p> + <p> + With a furious effort he hurled himself back from the table, dragging The + Duke partly across. There was a flash and a report and Bruce collapsed, + The Duke still gripping him. When they lifted him up he was found to have + an ugly wound in his arm, the bullet having passed through the fleshy + part. I bound it up as best I could and tried to persuade him to go to + bed. But he would go home. Nothing could stop him. Finally The Duke agreed + to go with him, and off they set, Bruce loudly protesting that he could + get home alone and did not want anyone. + </p> + <p> + It was a dismal break-up to the meet, and we all went home feeling rather + sick, so that it gave me no pleasure to find Moore waiting in my shack for + my report of Bruce. It was quite vain for me to make light of the accident + to him. His eyes were wide open with anxious fear when I had done. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't tell me not to be anxious,” he said, “you are anxious + yourself. I see it, I feel it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's no use trying to keep things from you,” I replied, “but I + am only a little anxious. Don't you go beyond me and work yourself up into + a fever over it.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered quietly, “but I wish his mother were nearer.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bosh, it isn't coming to that; but I wish he were in better shape. He + is broken up badly without this hole in him.” + </p> + <p> + He would not leave till I had promised to take him up the next day, though + I was doubtful enough of his reception. But next day The Duke came down, + his black bronco, Jingo, wet with hard riding. + </p> + <p> + “Better come up, Connor,” he said, gravely, “and bring your bromides + along. He has had a bad night and morning and fell asleep only before I + came away. I expect he'll wake in delirium. It's the whisky more than the + bullet. Snakes, you know.” + </p> + <p> + In ten minutes we three were on the trail, for Moore, though not invited, + quietly announced his intention to go with us. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right,” said The Duke, indifferently, “he probably won't + recognize you any way.” + </p> + <p> + We rode hard for half an hour till we came within sight of Bruce's shack, + which was set back into a little poplar bluff. + </p> + <p> + “Hold up!” said The Duke. “Was that a shot?” We stood listening. A + rifle-shot rang out, and we rode hard. Again The Duke halted us, and there + came from the shack the sound of singing. It was an old Scotch tune. + </p> + <p> + “The twenty-third Psalm,” said Moore, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + We rode into the bluff, tied up our horses and crept to the back of the + shack. Looking through a crack between the logs, I saw a gruesome thing. + Bruce was sitting up in bed with a Winchester rifle across his knees and a + belt of cartridges hanging over the post. His bandages were torn off, the + blood from his wound was smeared over his bare arms and his pale, ghastly + face; his eyes were wild with mad terror, and he was shouting at the top + of his voice the words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want, + He makes me down to lie + In pastures green, He leadeth me + The quiet waters by.” + </pre> + <p> + Now and then he would stop to say in an awesome whisper, “Come out here, + you little devils!” and bang would go his rifle at the stovepipe, which + was riddled with holes. Then once more in a loud voice he would hurry to + begin the Psalm, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The Lord's my Shepherd.” + </pre> + <p> + Nothing that my memory brings to me makes me chill like that picture—the + low log shack, now in cheerless disorder; the ghastly object upon the bed + in the corner, with blood-smeared face and arms and mad terror in the + eyes; the awful cursings and more awful psalm-singing, punctuated by the + quick report of the deadly rifle. + </p> + <p> + For some moments we stood gazing at one another; then The Duke said, in a + low, fierce tone, more to himself than to us: + </p> + <p> + “This is the last. There'll be no more of this cursed folly among the + boys.” + </p> + <p> + And I thought it a wise thing in The Pilot that he answered not a word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE PILOT'S GRIP + </h3> + <p> + The situation was one of extreme danger—a madman with a Winchester + rifle. Something must be done and quickly. But what? It would be death to + anyone appearing at the door. + </p> + <p> + “I'll speak; you keep your eyes on him,” said The Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Bruce! What's the row?” shouted The Duke. + </p> + <p> + Instantly the singing stopped. A look of cunning delight came over his + face as, without a word, he got his rifle ready pointed at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” he yelled, after waiting for some moments. “Come in! You're the + biggest of all the devils. Come on, I'll send you down where you belong. + Come, what's keeping you?” + </p> + <p> + Over the rifle-barrel his eyes gleamed with frenzied delight. We consulted + as to a plan. + </p> + <p> + “I don't relish a bullet much,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “There are pleasanter things,” responded The Duke, “and he is a fairly + good shot.” + </p> + <p> + Meantime the singing had started again, and, looking through the chink, I + saw that Bruce had got his eye on the stovepipe again. While I was looking + The Pilot slipped away from us toward the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come back!” said the Duke, “don't be a fool! Come back, he'll shoot you + dead!” + </p> + <p> + Moore paid no heed to him, but stood waiting at the door. In a few moments + Bruce blazed away again at the stovepipe. Immediately the Pilot burst in, + calling out eagerly: + </p> + <p> + “Did you get him?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Bruce, disappointedly, “he dodged like the devil, as of course + he ought, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get him,” said Moore. “Smoke him out,” proceeding to open the stove + door. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” screamed Bruce, “don't open that door! It's full, I tell you.” + Moore paused. “Besides,” went on Bruce, “smoke won't touch 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” said Moore, coolly and with admirable quickness, + “wood smoke, you know—they can't stand that.” + </p> + <p> + This was apparently a new idea in demonology for Bruce, for he sank back, + while Moore lighted the fire and put on the tea-kettle. He looked round + for the tea-caddy. + </p> + <p> + “Up there,” said Bruce, forgetting for the moment his devils, and pointing + to a quaint, old-fashioned tea-caddy upon the shelf. + </p> + <p> + Moore took it down, turned it in his hands and looked at Bruce. + </p> + <p> + “Old country, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “My mother's,” said Bruce, soberly. + </p> + <p> + “I could have sworn it was my aunt's in Balleymena,” said Moore. “My aunt + lived in a little stone cottage with roses all over the front of it.” And + on he went into an enthusiastic description of his early home. His voice + was full of music, soft and soothing, and poor Bruce sank back and + listened, the glitter fading from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + The Duke and I looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Not too bad, eh?” said The Duke, after a few moments' silence. + </p> + <p> + “Let's put up the horses,” I suggested. “They won't want us for half an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + When we came in, the room had been set in order, the tea-kettle was + singing, the bedclothes straightened out, and Moore had just finished + washing the blood stains from Bruce's arms and neck. + </p> + <p> + “Just in time,” he said. “I didn't like to tackle these,” pointing to the + bandages. + </p> + <p> + All night long Moore soothed and tended the sick man, now singing softly + to him, and again beguiling him with tales that meant nothing, but that + had a strange power to quiet the nervous restlessness, due partly to the + pain of the wounded arm and partly to the nerve-wrecking from his months + of dissipation. The Duke seemed uncomfortable enough. He spoke to Bruce + once or twice, but the only answer was a groan or curse with an increase + of restlessness. + </p> + <p> + “He'll have a close squeak,” said The Duke. The carelessness of the tone + was a little overdone, but The Pilot was stirred up by it. + </p> + <p> + “He has not been fortunate in his friends,” he said, looking straight into + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “A man ought to know himself when the pace is too swift,” said The Duke, a + little more quickly than was his wont. + </p> + <p> + “You might have done anything with him. Why didn't you help him?” Moore's + tones were stern and very steady, and he never moved his eyes from the + other man's face, but the only reply he got was a shrug of the shoulders. + </p> + <p> + When the gray of the morning was coming in at the window The Duke rose up, + gave himself, a little shake, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I am not of any service here. I shall come back in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + He went and stood for a few moments looking down upon the hot, fevered + face; then, turning to me, he asked: + </p> + <p> + “What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't say! The bromide is holding him down just now. His blood is bad for + that wound.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I get anything?” I knew him well enough to recognize the anxiety + under his indifferent manner. + </p> + <p> + “The Fort doctor ought to be got.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded and went out. + </p> + <p> + “Have breakfast?” called out Moore from the door. + </p> + <p> + “I shall get some at the Fort, thanks. They won't take any hurt from me + there,” he said, smiling his cynical smile. + </p> + <p> + Moore opened his eyes in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “What's that for?” he asked me. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is rather cut up, and you rather rubbed it into him, you know,” + I said, for I thought Moore a little hard. + </p> + <p> + “Did I say anything untrue?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, not untrue, perhaps; but truth is like medicine—not always + good to take.” At which Moore was silent till his patient needed him + again. + </p> + <p> + It was a weary day. The intense pain from the wound, and the high fever + from the poison in his blood kept the poor fellow in delirium till + evening, when The Duke rode up with the Fort doctor. Jingo appeared as + nearly played out as a horse of his spirit ever allowed himself to become. + </p> + <p> + “Seventy miles,” said The Duke, swinging himself off the saddle. “The + doctor was ten miles out. How is he?” + </p> + <p> + I shook my head, and he led away his horse to give him a rub and a feed. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the doctor, who was of the army and had seen service, was + examining his patient. He grew more and more puzzled as he noted the + various symptoms. Finally he broke out: + </p> + <p> + “What have you been doing to him? Why is he in this condition? This + fleabite doesn't account for all,” pointing to the wound. + </p> + <p> + We stood like children reproved. Then The Duke said, hesitatingly: + </p> + <p> + “I fear, doctor, the life has been a little too hard for him. He had a + severe nervous attack—seeing things, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” stormed the old doctor. “I know you well enough, with your + head of cast-iron and no nerves to speak of. I know the crowd and how you + lead them. Infernal fools! You'll get your turn some day. I've warned you + before.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke was standing up before the doctor during this storm, smiling + slightly. All at once the smile faded out and he pointed to the bed. Bruce + was sitting up quiet and steady. He stretched out his hand to The Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Don't mind the old fool,” he said, holding The Duke's hand and looking up + at him as fondly as if he were a girl. “It's my own funeral—funeral?” + he paused—“Perhaps it may be—who knows?—feel queer + enough—but remember, Duke—it's my own fault—don't listen + to those bally fools,” looking towards Moore and the doctor. “My own + fault”—his voice died down—“my own fault.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke bent over him and laid him back on the pillow, saying, “Thanks, + old chap, you're good stuff. I'll not forget. Just keep quiet and you'll + be all right.” He passed his cool, firm hand over the hot brow of the man + looking up at him with love in his eyes, and in a few moments Bruce fell + asleep. Then The Duke lifted himself up, and facing the doctor, said in + his coolest tone: + </p> + <p> + “Your words are more true than opportune, doctor. Your patient will need + all your attention. As for my morals, Mr. Moore kindly entrusts himself + with the care of them.” This with a bow toward The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “I wish him joy of his charge,” snorted the doctor, turning again to the + bed, where Bruce had already passed into delirium. + </p> + <p> + The memory of that vigil was like a horrible nightmare for months. Moore + lay on the floor and slept. The Duke rode off somewhither. The old doctor + and I kept watch. All night poor Bruce raved in the wildest delirium, + singing, now psalms, now songs, swearing at the cattle or his poker + partners, and now and then, in quieter moments, he was back in his old + home, a boy, with a boy's friends and sports. Nothing could check the + fever. It baffled the doctor, who often, during the night, declared that + there was “no sense in a wound like that working up such a fever,” adding + curses upon the folly of The Duke and his Company. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think he will not get better, doctor?” I asked, in answer to + one of his outbreaks. + </p> + <p> + “He ought to get over this,” he answered, impatiently, “but I believe,” he + added, deliberately, “he'll have to go.” + </p> + <p> + Everything stood still for a moment. It seemed impossible. Two days ago + full of life, now on the way out. There crowded in upon me thoughts of his + home; his mother, whose letters he used to show me full of anxious love; + his wild life here, with all its generous impulses, its mistakes, its + folly. + </p> + <p> + “How long will he last?” I asked, and my lips were dry and numb. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps twenty-four hours, perhaps longer. He can't throw off the + poison.” + </p> + <p> + The old doctor proved a true prophet. After another day of agonized + delirium he sank into a stupor which lasted through the night. + </p> + <p> + Then the change came. As the light began to grow at the eastern rim of the + prairie and up the far mountains in the west, Bruce opened his eyes and + looked about upon us. The doctor had gone; The Duke had not come back; + Moore and I were alone. He gazed at us steadily for some moments; read our + faces; a look of wonder came into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Is it coming?” he asked in a faint, awed voice. “Do you really think I + must go?” + </p> + <p> + The eager appeal in his voice and the wistful longing in the wide-open, + startled eyes were too much for Moore. He backed behind me and I could + hear him weeping like a baby. Bruce heard him, too. + </p> + <p> + “Is that The Pilot?” he asked. Instantly Moore pulled himself up, wiped + his eyes and came round to the other side of the bed and looked down, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Do YOU say I am dying?” The voice was strained in its earnestness. I felt + a thrill of admiration go through me as the Pilot answered in a sweet, + clear voice: “They say so, Bruce. But you are not afraid?” + </p> + <p> + Bruce kept his eyes on his face and answered with grave hesitation: + </p> + <p> + “No—not—afraid—but I'd like to live a little longer. + I've made such a mess of it, I'd like to try again.” Then he paused, and + his lips quivered a little. “There's my mother, you know,” he added, + apologetically, “and Jim.” Jim was his younger brother and sworn chum. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, Bruce, but it won't be very long for them, too, and it's a + good place.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe it all—always did—talked rot—you'll + forgive me that?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't; don't,” said Moore quickly, with sharp pain in his voice, and + Bruce smiled a little and closed his eyes, saying: “I'm tired.” But he + immediately opened them again and looked up. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Moore, smiling down into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The Duke,” the poor lips whispered. + </p> + <p> + “He is coming,” said Moore, confidently, though how he knew I could not + tell. But even as he spoke, looking out of the window, I saw Jingo come + swinging round the bluff. Bruce heard the beat of his hoofs, smiled, + opened his eyes and waited. The leap of joy in his eyes as The Duke came + in, clean, cool and fresh as the morning, went to my heart. + </p> + <p> + Neither man said a word, but Bruce took hold of The Duke's hand in both of + his. He was fast growing weaker. I gave him brandy, and he recovered a + little strength. + </p> + <p> + “I am dying, Duke,” he said, quietly. “Promise you won't blame yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, old man,” said The Duke, with a shudder. “Would to heaven I + could.” + </p> + <p> + “You were too strong for me, and you didn't think, did you?” and the weak + voice had a caress in it. + </p> + <p> + “No, no! God knows,” said The Duke, hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence, and again Bruce opened his eyes and whispered: + </p> + <p> + “The Pilot.” + </p> + <p> + Moore came to him. + </p> + <p> + “Read 'The Prodigal,'” he said faintly, and in Moore's clear, sweet voice + the music of that matchless story fell upon our ears. + </p> + <p> + Again Bruce's eyes summoned me. I bent over him. + </p> + <p> + “My letter,” he said, faintly, “in my coat—” + </p> + <p> + I brought to him the last letter from his mother. He held the envelope + before his eyes, then handed it to me, whispering: + </p> + <p> + “Read.” + </p> + <p> + I opened the letter and looked at the words, “My darling Davie.” My tongue + stuck and not a sound could I make. Moore put out his hand and took it + from me. The Duke rose to go out, calling me with his eyes, but Bruce + motioned him to stay, and he sat down and bowed his head, while Moore read + the letter. + </p> + <p> + His tones were clear and steady till he came to the last words, when his + voice broke and ended in a sob: + </p> + <p> + “And oh, Davie, laddie, if ever your heart turns home again, remember the + door is aye open, and it's joy you'll bring with you to us all.” + </p> + <p> + Bruce lay quite still, and, from his closed eyes, big tears ran down his + cheeks. It was his last farewell to her whose love had been to him the + anchor to all things pure here and to heaven beyond. + </p> + <p> + He took the letter from Moore's hand, put it with difficulty to his lips, + and then, touching the open Bible, he said, between his breaths: + </p> + <p> + “It's—very like—there's really—no fear, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” said Moore, with cheerful, confident voice, though his, tears + were flowing. “No fear of your welcome.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes met mine. I bent over him. “Tell her—” and his voice faded + away. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I tell her?” I asked, trying to recall him. But the message + was never given. He moved one hand slowly toward The Duke till it touched + his head. The Duke lifted his face and looked down at him, and then he did + a beautiful thing for which I forgave him much. He stooped over and kissed + the lips grown so white, and then the brow. The light came back into the + eyes of the dying man, he smiled once more, and smilingly faced toward the + Great Beyond. And the morning air, fresh from the sun-tipped mountains and + sweet with the scent of the June roses, came blowing soft and cool through + the open window upon the dead, smiling face. And it seemed fitting so. It + came from the land of the Morning. + </p> + <p> + Again The Duke did a beautiful thing; for, reaching across his dead + friend, he offered his hand to The Pilot. “Mr. Moore,” he said, with fine + courtesy, “you are a brave man and a good man; I ask your forgiveness for + much rudeness.” + </p> + <p> + But Moore only shook his head while he took the outstretched hand, and + said, brokenly: + </p> + <p> + “Don't! I can't stand it.” + </p> + <p> + “The Company of the Noble Seven will meet no more,” said The Duke, with a + faint smile. + </p> + <p> + They did meet, however; but when they did, The Pilot was in the chair, and + it was not for poker. + </p> + <p> + The Pilot had “got his grip,” as Bill said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <h3> + GWEN + </h3> + <p> + It was not many days after my arrival in the Foothill country that I began + to hear of Gwen. They all had stories of her. The details were not many, + but the impression was vivid. She lived remote from that centre of + civilization known as Swan Creek in the postal guide, but locally as Old + Latour's, far up among the hills near the Devil's Lake, and from her + father's ranch she never ventured. But some of the men had had glimpses of + her and had come to definite opinions regarding her. + </p> + <p> + “What is she like?” I asked Bill one day, trying to pin him down to + something like a descriptive account of her. + </p> + <p> + “Like! She's a terrer,” he said, with slow emphasis, “a holy terrer.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is she like? What does she look like?” I asked impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Look like?” He considered a moment, looked slowly round as if searching + for a simile, then answered: “I dunno.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know? What do you mean? Haven't you seen her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yeh! But she ain't like nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + Bill was quite decided upon this point. + </p> + <p> + I tried again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what sort of hair has she got? She's got hair, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Hayer! Well, a few!” said Bill, with some choice combinations of + profanity in repudiation of my suggestion. “Yards of it! Red!” + </p> + <p> + “Git out!” contradicted Hi. “Red! Tain't no more red than mine!” + </p> + <p> + Bill regarded Hi's hair critically. + </p> + <p> + “What color do you put onto your old brush?” he asked cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't no difference. 'Tain't red, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Red! Well, not quite exactly,” and Bill went off into a low, long, + choking chuckle, ejaculating now and then, “Red! Jee-mi-ny Ann! Red!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Hi,” he went on, recovering himself with the same abruptness as he + used with his bronco, and looking at his friend with a face even more than + usually solemn, “your hayer ain't red, Hi; don't let any of your relatives + persuade you to that. 'Tain't red!” and he threatened to go off again, but + pulled himself up with dangerous suddenness. “It may be blue, cerulyum + blue or even purple, but red—!” He paused violently, looking at his + friend as if he found him a new and interesting object of study upon which + he could not trust himself to speak. Nor could he be induced to proceed + with the description he had begun. + </p> + <p> + But Hi, paying no attention to Bill's oration, took up the subject with + enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “She kin ride—she's a reg'lar buster to ride, ain't she, Bill?” Bill + nodded. “She kin bunch cattle an' cut out an' yank a steer up to any + cowboy on the range.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how big is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Big? Why, she's just a kid! 'Tain't the bigness of her, it's the nerve. + She's got the coldest kind of nerve you ever seen. Hain't she, Bill?” And + again Bill nodded. + </p> + <p> + “'Member the day she dropped that steer, Bill?” went on Hi. + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” I asked, eager for a yarn. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nuthin',” said Bill. + </p> + <p> + “Nuthin'!” retorted Hi. “Pretty big nuthin'!” + </p> + <p> + “What was it?” I urged. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bill here did some funny work at old Meredith's round-up, but he + don't speak of it. He's shy, you see,” and Hi grinned. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there ain't no occasion for your proceedin' onto that tact,” said + Bill disgustedly, and Hi loyally refrained, so I have never yet got the + rights of the story. But from what I did hear I gathered that Bill, at the + risk of his life, had pulled The Duke from under the hoofs of a mad steer, + and that little Gwen had, in the coolest possible manner, “sailed in on + her bronco” and, by putting two bullets into the steer's head, had saved + them both from great danger, perhaps from death, for the rest of the + cattle were crowding near. Of course Bill could never be persuaded to + speak of the incident. A true western man will never hesitate to tell you + what he can do, but of what he has done he does not readily speak. + </p> + <p> + The only other item that Hi contributed to the sketch of Gwen was that her + temper could blaze if the occasion demanded. + </p> + <p> + “'Member young Hill, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + Bill “'membered.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't she cut into him sudden? Sarved him right, too.” + </p> + <p> + “What did she do?” + </p> + <p> + “Cut him across the face with her quirt in good style.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Knockin' about her Indian Joe.” + </p> + <p> + Joe was, as I came to learn, Ponka's son and Gwen's most devoted slave. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she ain't no refrigerator.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” assented Bill. “She's a leetle swift.” Then, as if fearing he had + been apologizing for her, he added, with the air of one settling the + question: “But she's good stock! She suits me!” + </p> + <p> + The Duke helped me to another side of her character. + </p> + <p> + “She is a remarkable child,” he said, one day. “Wild and shy as a coyote, + but fearless, quite; and with a heart full of passions. Meredith, the Old + Timer, you know, has kept her up there among the hills. She sees no one + but himself and Ponka's Blackfeet relations, who treat her like a goddess + and help to spoil her utterly. She knows their lingo and their ways—goes + off with them for a week at a time.” + </p> + <p> + “What! With the Blackfeet?” + </p> + <p> + “Ponka and Joe, of course, go along; but even without them she is as safe + as if surrounded by the Coldstream Guards, but she has given them up for + some time now.” + </p> + <p> + “And at home?” I asked. “Has she any education? Can she read or write?” + </p> + <p> + “Not she. She can make her own dresses, moccasins and leggings. She can + cook and wash—that is, when she feels in the mood. And she knows all + about the birds and beasts and flowers and that sort of thing, but—education! + Why, she is hardly civilized!” + </p> + <p> + “What a shame!” I said. “How old is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a mere child; fourteen or fifteen, I imagine; but a woman in many + things.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does her father say to all this? Can he control her?” + </p> + <p> + “Control!” said The Duke, in utter astonishment. “Why, bless your soul, + nothing in heaven or earth could control HER. Wait till you see her stand + with her proud little head thrown back, giving orders to Joe, and you will + never again connect the idea of control with Gwen. She might be a princess + for the pride of her. I've seen some, too, in my day, but none to touch + her for sheer, imperial pride, little Lucifer that she is.” + </p> + <p> + “And how does her father stand her nonsense?” I asked, for I confess I was + not much taken with the picture The Duke had drawn. + </p> + <p> + “Her father simply follows behind her and adores, as do all things that + come near her, down, or up, perhaps, to her two dogs—Wolf and Loo—for + either of which she would readily die if need be. Still,” he added, after + a pause, “it IS a shame, as you say. She ought to know something of the + refinements of civilization, to which, after all, she belongs, and from + which none of us can hope to escape.” The Duke was silent for a few + moments, and then added, with some hesitation: “Then, too, she is quite a + pagan; never saw a prayer-book, you know.” + </p> + <p> + And so it came about, chiefly through The Duke's influence, I imagine, + that I was engaged by the Old Timer to go up to his ranch every week and + teach his daughter something of the elementaries of a lady's education. + </p> + <p> + My introduction was ominous of the many things I was to suffer of that + same young maiden before I had finished my course with her. The Old Timer + had given careful directions as to the trail that would lead me to the + canyon where he was to meet me. Up the Swan went the trail, winding ever + downward into deeper and narrower coulees and up to higher open sunlit + slopes, till suddenly it settled into a valley which began with great + width and narrowed to a canyon whose rocky sides were dressed out with + shrubs and trailing vines and wet with trickling rivulets from the + numerous springs that oozed and gushed from the black, glistening rocks. + This canyon was an eerie place of which ghostly tales were told from the + old Blackfeet times. And to this day no Blackfoot will dare to pass + through this black-walled, oozy, glistening canyon after the moon has + passed the western lip. But in the warm light of broad day the canyon was + a good enough place; cool and sweet, and I lingered through, waiting for + the Old Timer, who failed to appear till the shadows began to darken its + western black sides. + </p> + <p> + Out of the mouth of the canyon the trail climbed to a wide stretch of + prairie that swept up over soft hills to the left and down to the bright + gleaming waters of the Devil's Lake on the right. In the sunlight the lake + lay like a gem radiant with many colors, the far side black in the shadow + of the crowding pines, then in the middle deep, blue and purple, and + nearer, many shades of emerald that ran quite to the white, sandy beach. + Right in front stood the ranch buildings, upon a slight rising ground and + surrounded by a sturdy palisade of upright pointed poles. This was the + castle of the princess. I rode up to the open gate, then turned and stood + to look down upon the marvellous lake shining and shimmering with its many + radiant colors. Suddenly there was an awful roar, my pony shot round upon + his hind legs after his beastly cayuse manner, deposited me sitting upon + the ground and fled down the trail, pursued by two huge dogs that brushed + past me as I fell. I was aroused from my amazement by a peal of laughter, + shrill but full of music. Turning, I saw my pupil, as I guessed, standing + at the head of a most beautiful pinto (spotted) pony with a heavy cattle + quirt in her hand. I scrambled to my feet and said, somewhat angrily, I + fear: + </p> + <p> + “What are you laughing at? Why don't you call back your dogs? They will + chase my pony beyond all reach.” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her little head, shook back her masses of brown-red hair, + looked at me as if I were quite beneath contempt and said: “No, they will + kill him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said I, for I was very angry, “I will kill them,” pulling at the + revolver in my belt. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she said, and for the first time I noticed her eyes blue-black, + with gray rims, “I will kill you,” and she whipped out an ugly-looking + revolver. From her face I had no doubt that she would not hesitate to do + as she had said. I changed my tactics, for I was anxious about my pony, + and said, with my best smile: + </p> + <p> + “Can't you call them back? Won't they obey you?” + </p> + <p> + Her face changed in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Is it your pony? Do you love him very much?” + </p> + <p> + “Dearly!” I said, persuading myself of a sudden affection for the cranky + little brute. + </p> + <p> + She sprang upon her pinto and set off down the trail. The pony was now + coursing up and down the slopes, doubling like a hare, instinctively + avoiding the canyon where he would be cornered. He was mad with terror at + the huge brutes that were silently but with awful and sure swiftness + running him down. + </p> + <p> + The girl on the pinto whistled shrilly, and called to her dogs: “Down, + Wolf! Back, Loo!” but, running low, with long, stretched bodies, they + heeded not, but sped on, ever gaining upon the pony that now circled + toward the pinto. As they drew near in their circling, the girl urged her + pinto to meet them, loosening her lariat as she went. As the pony neared + the pinto he slackened his speed; immediately the nearer dog gathered + herself in two short jumps and sprang for the pony's throat. But, even as + she sprang, the lariat whirled round the girl's head and fell swift and + sure about the dog's neck, and next moment she lay choking upon the + prairie. Her mate paused, looked back, and gave up the chase. But dire + vengeance overtook them, for, like one possessed, the girl fell upon them + with her quirt and beat them one after the other till, in pity for the + brutes, I interposed. + </p> + <p> + “They shall do as I say or I shall kill them! I shall kill them!” she + cried, raging and stamping. + </p> + <p> + “Better shoot them,” I suggested, pulling out my pistol. + </p> + <p> + Immediately she flung herself upon the one that moaned and whined at her + feet, crying: + </p> + <p> + “If you dare! If you dare!” Then she burst into passionate sobbing. “You + bad Loo! You bad, dear old Loo! But you WERE bad—you KNOW you were + bad!” and so she went on with her arms about Loo's neck till Loo, whining + and quivering with love and delight, threatened to go quite mad, and Wolf, + standing majestically near, broke into short howls of impatience for his + turn of caressing. They made a strange group, those three wild things, + equally fierce and passionate in hate and in love. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the girl remembered me, and standing up she said, half ashamed: + </p> + <p> + “They always obey ME. They are MINE, but they kill any strange thing that + comes in through the gate. They are allowed to.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a pleasant whim.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, isn't that dangerous to strangers?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no one ever comes alone, except The Duke. And they keep off the + wolves.” + </p> + <p> + “The Duke comes, does he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” and her eyes lit up. “He is my friend. He calls me his 'princess,' + and he teaches me to talk and tells me stories—oh, wonderful + stories!” + </p> + <p> + I looked in wonder at her face, so gentle, so girlish, and tried to think + back to the picture of the girl who a few moments before had so coolly + threatened to shoot me and had so furiously beaten her dogs. + </p> + <p> + I kept her talking of The Duke as we walked back to the gate, watching her + face the while. It was not beautiful; it was too thin, and the mouth was + too large. But the teeth were good, and the eyes, blue-black with gray + rims, looked straight at you; true eyes and brave, whether in love or in + war. Her hair was her glory. Red it was, in spite of Hi's denial, but of + such marvellous, indescribable shade that in certain lights, as she rode + over the prairie, it streamed behind her like a purple banner. A most + confusing and bewildering color, but quite in keeping with the nature of + the owner. + </p> + <p> + She gave her pinto to Joe and, standing at the door, welcomed me with a + dignity and graciousness that made me think that The Duke was not far + wrong when he named her “Princess.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened upon the main or living room. It was a long, apartment, + with low ceiling and walls of hewn logs chinked and plastered and all + beautifully whitewashed and clean. The tables, chairs and benches were all + home-made. On the floor were magnificent skins of wolf, bear, musk ox and + mountain goat. The walls were decorated with heads and horns of deer and + mountain sheep, eagles' wings and a beautiful breast of a loon, which Gwen + had shot and of which she was very proud. At one end of the room a huge + stone fireplace stood radiant in its summer decorations of ferns and + grasses and wild-flowers. At the other end a door opened into another + room, smaller and richly furnished with relics of former grandeur. + </p> + <p> + Everything was clean and well kept. Every nook, shelf and corner was + decked with flowers and ferns from the canyon. + </p> + <p> + A strange house it was, full of curious contrasts, but it fitted this + quaint child that welcomed me with such gracious courtesy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <h3> + GWEN'S FIRST PRAYERS + </h3> + <p> + It was with hesitation, almost with fear, that I began with Gwen; but even + had I been able to foresee the endless series of exasperations through + which she was destined to conduct me, still would I have undertaken my + task. For the child, with all her wilfulness, her tempers and her pride, + made me, as she did all others, her willing slave. + </p> + <p> + Her lessons went on, brilliantly or not at all, according to her sweet + will. She learned to read with extraordinary rapidity, for she was eager + to know more of that great world of which The Duke had told her such + thrilling tales. Writing she abhorred. She had no one to write to. Why + should she cramp her fingers over these crooked little marks? But she + mastered with hardly a struggle the mysteries of figures, for she would + have to sell her cattle, and “dad doesn't know when they are cheating.” + Her ideas of education were purely utilitarian, and what did not appear + immediately useful she refused to trifle with. And so all through the + following long winter she vexed my righteous soul with her wilfulness and + pride. An appeal to her father was idle. She would wind her long, thin + arms about his neck and let her waving red hair float over him until the + old man was quite helpless to exert authority. The Duke could do most with + her. To please him she would struggle with her crooked letters for an hour + at a time, but even his influence and authority had its limits. + </p> + <p> + “Must I?” she said one day, in answer to a demand of his for more faithful + study; “must I?” And throwing up her proud little head, and shaking back + with a trick she had her streaming red hair, she looked straight at him + from her blue-gray eyes and asked the monosyllabic question, “Why?” And + The Duke looked back at her with his slight smile for a few moments and + then said in cold, even tones: + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know why,” and turned his back on her. Immediately she + sprang at him, shook him by the arm, and, quivering with passion, cried: + </p> + <p> + “You are not to speak to me like that, and you are not to turn your back + that way!” + </p> + <p> + “What a little princess it is,” he said admiringly, “and what a time she + will give herself some day!” Then he added, smiling sadly: “Was I rude, + Gwen? Then I am sorry.” Her rage was gone, and she looked as if she could + have held him by the feet. As it was, too proud to show her feelings, she + just looked at him with softening eyes, and then sat down to the work she + had refused. This was after the advent of The Pilot at Swan Creek, and, as + The Duke rode home with me that night, after long musing he said with + hesitation: “She ought to have some religion, poor child; she will grow up + a perfect little devil. The Pilot might be of service if you could bring + him up. Women need that sort of thing; it refines, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Would she have him?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Question,” he replied, doubtfully. “You might suggest it.” + </p> + <p> + Which I did, introducing somewhat clumsily, I fear, The Duke's name. + </p> + <p> + “The Duke says he is to make me good!” she cried. “I won't have him, I + hate him and you too!” And for that day she disdained all lessons, and + when The Duke next appeared she greeted him with the exclamation, “I won't + have your old Pilot, and I don't want to be good, and—and—you + think he's no good yourself,” at which the Duke opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know? I never said so!” + </p> + <p> + “You laughed at him to dad one day.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” said The Duke, gravely. “Then I hasten to assure, you that I have + changed my mind. He is a good, brave man.” + </p> + <p> + “He falls off his horse,” she said, with contempt. + </p> + <p> + “I rather think he sticks on now,” replied The Duke, repressing a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” she went on, “he's just a kid; Bill said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he might be more ancient,” acknowledged The Duke, “but in that he + is steadily improving.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyway,” with an air of finality, “he is not to come here.” + </p> + <p> + But he did come, and under her own escort, one threatening August evening. + </p> + <p> + “I found him in the creek,” she announced, with defiant shamefacedness, + marching in The Pilot half drowned. + </p> + <p> + “I think I could have crossed,” he said, apologetically, “for Louis was + getting on his feet again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you wouldn't,” she protested. “You would have been down into the + canyon by now, and you ought to be thankful.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am,” he hastened to say, “very! But,” he added, unwilling to give up + his contention, “I have crossed the Swan before.” + </p> + <p> + “Not when it was in flood.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, when it was in flood, higher than now.” + </p> + <p> + “Not where the banks are rocky.” + </p> + <p> + “No-o!” he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “There, then, you WOULD have been drowned but for my lariat!” she cried, + triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + To this he doubtfully assented. + </p> + <p> + They were much alike, in high temper, in enthusiasm, in vivid imagination, + and in sensitive feeling. When the Old Timer came in Gwen triumphantly + introduced The Pilot as having been rescued from a watery grave by her + lariat, and again they fought out the possibilities of drowning and of + escape till Gwen almost lost her temper, and was appeased only by the most + profuse expressions of gratitude on the part of The Pilot for her timely + assistance. The Old Timer was perplexed. He was afraid to offend Gwen and + yet unwilling to be cordial to her guest. The Pilot was quick to feel + this, and, soon after tea, rose to go. Gwen's disappointment showed in her + face. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him to stay, dad,” she said, in a whisper. But the half-hearted + invitation acted like a spur, and The Pilot was determined to set off. + </p> + <p> + “There's a bad storm coming,” she said; “and besides,” she added, + triumphantly “you can't cross the Swan.” + </p> + <p> + This settled it, and the most earnest prayers of the Old Timer could not + have held him back. + </p> + <p> + We all went down to see him cross, Gwen leading her pinto. The Swan was + far over its banks, and in the middle running swift and strong. Louis + snorted, refused and finally plunged. Bravely he swam, till the + swift-running water struck him, and over he went on his side, throwing his + rider into the water. But The Pilot kept his head, and, holding by the + stirrups, paddled along by Louis' side. When they were half-way across + Louis saw that he had no chance of making the landing; so, like a sensible + horse, he turned and made for the shore. Here, too, the banks were high, + and the pony began to grow discouraged. + </p> + <p> + “Let him float down further!” shrieked Gwen, in anxious excitement; and, + urging her pinto down the bank, she coaxed the struggling pony down the + stream till opposite a shelf of rock level with the high water. Then she + threw her lariat, and, catching Louis about the neck and the horn of his + saddle, she held taut, till, half drowned, he scrambled up the bank, + dragging The Pilot with him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad!” she said, almost tearfully. “You see, you couldn't get + across.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot staggered to his feet, took a step toward her, gasped out: + </p> + <p> + “I can!” and pitched headlong. With a little cry she flew to him, and + turned him over on his back. In a few moments he revived, sat up, and + looked about stupidly. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Louis?” he said, with his face toward the swollen stream. + </p> + <p> + “Safe enough,” she answered; “but you must come in, the rain is just going + to pour.” + </p> + <p> + But The Pilot seemed possessed. + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm going across,” he said, rising. + </p> + <p> + Gwen was greatly distressed. + </p> + <p> + “But your poor horse,” she said, cleverly changing her ground; “he is + quite tired out.” + </p> + <p> + The Old Timer now joined earnestly in urging him to stay till the storm + was past. So, with a final look at the stream, The Pilot turned toward the + house. + </p> + <p> + Of course I knew what would happen. Before the evening was over he had + captured the household. The moment he appeared with dry things on he ran + to the organ, that had stood for ten years closed and silent, opened it + and began to play. As he played and sang song after song, the Old Timer's + eyes began to glisten under his shaggy brows. But when he dropped into the + exquisite Irish melody, “Oft in the Stilly Night,” the old man drew a hard + breath and groaned out to me: + </p> + <p> + “It was her mother's song,” and from that time The Pilot had him fast. It + was easy to pass to the old hymn, “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” and then The + Pilot said simply, “May we have prayers?” He looked at Gwen, but she gazed + blankly at him and then at her father. + </p> + <p> + “What does he say, dad?” + </p> + <p> + It was pitiful to see the old man's face grow slowly red under the deep + tan, as he said: + </p> + <p> + “You may, sir. There's been none here for many years, and the worse for + us.” He rose slowly, went into the inner room and returned with a Bible. + </p> + <p> + “It's her mother's,” he said, in a voice deep with emotion. “I put it in + her trunk the day I laid her out yonder under the pines.” The Pilot, + without looking at him, rose and reverently took the book in both his + hands and said gently: + </p> + <p> + “It was a sad day for you, but for her—” He paused. “You did not + grudge it to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Not now, but then, yes! I wanted her, we needed her.” The Old Timer's + tears were flowing. + </p> + <p> + The Pilot put his hand caressingly upon the old man's shoulder as if he + had been his father, and said in his clear, sweet voice, “Some day you + will go to her.” + </p> + <p> + Upon this scene poor Gwen gazed with eyes wide open with amazement and a + kind of fear. She had never seen her father weep since the awful day that + she could never forget, when he had knelt in dumb agony beside the bed on + which her mother lay white and still; nor would he heed her till, climbing + up, she tried to make her mother waken and hear her cries. Then he had + caught her up in his arms, pressing her with tears and great sobs to his + heart. To-night she seemed to feel that something was wrong. She went and + stood by her father, and, stroking his gray hair kindly, she said: + </p> + <p> + “What is he saying, daddy? Is he making you cry?” She looked at The Pilot + defiantly. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, child,” said the old man, hastily, “sit here and listen.” + </p> + <p> + And while the storm raved outside we three sat listening to that ancient + story of love ineffable. And, as the words fell like sweet music upon our + ears, the old man sat with eyes that looked far away, while the child + listened with devouring eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a fairy tale, daddy?” she asked, as The Pilot paused. “It isn't + true, is it?” and her voice had a pleading note hard for the old man to + bear. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, my child,” said he, brokenly. “God forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's true,” said The Pilot, quickly. “I'll read it all to you + to-morrow. It's a beautiful story!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, imperiously, “to-night. Read it now! Go on!” she said, + stamping her foot, “don't you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot gazed in surprise at her, and then turning to the old man, said: + </p> + <p> + “Shall I?” + </p> + <p> + The Old Timer simply nodded and the reading went on. Those were not my + best days, and the faith of my childhood was not as it had been; but, as + The Pilot carried us through those matchless scenes of self-forgetting + love and service the rapt wonder in the child's face as she listened, the + appeal in her voice as, now to her father, and now to me, she cried: “Is + THAT true, too? Is it ALL true?” made it impossible for me to hesitate in + my answer. And I was glad to find it easy to give my firm adherence to the + truth of all that tale of wonder. And, as more and more it grew upon The + Pilot that the story he was reading, so old to him and to all he had ever + met, was new to one in that listening group, his face began to glow and + his eyes to blaze, and he saw and showed me things that night I had never + seen before, nor have I seen them since. The great figure of the Gospels + lived, moved before our eyes. We saw Him bend to touch the blind, we heard + Him speak His marvellous teaching, we felt the throbbing excitement of the + crowds that pressed against Him. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly The Pilot stopped, turned over the leaves and began again: “And + He led them out as far as to Bethany. And He lifted up His hands and + blessed them. And it came to pass as He blessed them He was parted from + them and a cloud received Him out of their sight.” There was silence for + some minutes, then Gwen said: + </p> + <p> + “Where did He go?” + </p> + <p> + “Up into Heaven,” answered The Pilot, simply. + </p> + <p> + “That's where mother is,” she said to her father, who nodded in reply. + </p> + <p> + “Does He know?” she asked. The old man looked distressed. + </p> + <p> + “Of course He does,” said The Pilot, “and she sees Him all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, daddy!” she cried, “isn't that good?” + </p> + <p> + But the old man only hid his face in his hands and groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” went on The Pilot, “and He sees us, too, and hears us speak, and + knows our thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + Again the look of wonder and fear came into her eyes, but she said no + word. The experiences of the evening had made the world new to her. It + could never be the same to her again. It gave me a queer feeling to see + her, when we three kneeled to pray, stand helplessly looking on, not + knowing what to do, then sink beside her father, and, winding her arms + about his neck, cling to him as the words of prayer were spoken into the + ear of Him whom no man can see, but who we believe is near to all that + call upon Him. + </p> + <p> + Those were Gwen's first “prayers,” and in them Gwen's part was small, for + fear and wonder filled her heart; but the day was to come, and all too + soon, when she should have to pour out her soul with strong crying and + tears. That day came and passed, but the story of it is not to be told + here. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <h3> + GWEN'S CHALLENGE + </h3> + <p> + Gwen was undoubtedly wild and, as The Sky Pilot said, wilful and wicked. + Even Bronco Bill and Hi Kendal would say so, without, of course, abating + one jot of their admiration for her. For fourteen years she had lived + chiefly with wild things. The cattle on the range, wild as deer, the + coyotes, the jack-rabbits and the timber wolves were her mates and her + instructors. From these she learned her wild ways. The rolling prairie of + the Foothill country was her home. She loved it and all things that moved + upon it with passionate love, the only kind she was capable of. And all + summer long she spent her days riding up and down the range alone, or with + her father, or with Joe, or, best of all, with The Duke, her hero and her + friend. So she grew up strong, wholesome and self-reliant, fearing nothing + alive and as untamed as a yearling range colt. + </p> + <p> + She was not beautiful. The winds and sun had left her no complexion to + speak of, but the glory of her red hair, gold-red, with purple sheen, + nothing could tarnish. Her eyes, too, deep blue with rims of gray, that + flashed with the glint of steel or shone with melting light as of the + stars, according to her mood—those Irish, warm, deep eyes of hers + were worth a man's looking at. + </p> + <p> + Of course, all spoiled her. Ponka and her son Joe grovelled in abjectest + adoration, while her father and all who came within touch of her simply + did her will. Even The Duke, who loved her better than anything else, + yielded lazy, admiring homage to his Little Princess, and certainly, when + she stood straight up with her proud little gold-crowned head thrown back, + flashing forth wrath or issuing imperious commands, she looked a princess, + all of her. + </p> + <p> + It was a great day and a good day for her when she fished The Sky Pilot + out of the Swan and brought him home, and the night of Gwen's first + “prayers,” when she heard for the first time the story of the Man of + Nazareth, was the best of all her nights up to that time. All through the + winter, under The Pilot's guidance, she, with her father, the Old Timer, + listening near, went over and over that story so old now to many, but ever + becoming new, till a whole new world of mysterious Powers and Presences + lay open to her imagination and became the home of great realities. She + was rich in imagination and, when The Pilot read Bunyan's immortal poem, + her mother's old “Pilgrim's Progress,” she moved and lived beside the hero + of that tale, backing him up in his fights and consumed with anxiety over + his many impending perils, till she had him safely across the river and + delivered into the charge of the shining ones. + </p> + <p> + The Pilot himself, too, was a new and wholesome experience. He was the + first thing she had yet encountered that refused submission, and the first + human being that had failed to fall down and worship. There was something + in him that would not ALWAYS yield, and, indeed, her pride and her + imperious tempers he met with surprise and sometimes with a pity that + verged toward contempt. With this she was not well pleased and not + infrequently she broke forth upon him. One of these outbursts is stamped + upon my mind, not only because of its unusual violence, but chiefly + because of the events which followed. The original cause of her rage was + some trifling misdeed of the unfortunate Joe; but when I came upon the + scene it was The Pilot who was occupying her attention. The expression of + surprise and pity on his face appeared to stir her up. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you look at me like that?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “How very extraordinary that you can't keep hold of yourself better!” he + answered. + </p> + <p> + “I can!” she stamped, “and I shall do as I like!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great pity,” he said, with provoking calm, “and besides, it is + weak and silly.” His words were unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + “Weak!” she gasped, when her breath came back to her. “Weak!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “very weak and childish.” + </p> + <p> + Then she could have cheerfully put him to a slow and cruel death. When she + had recovered a little she cried vehemently: + </p> + <p> + “I'm not weak! I'm strong! I'm stronger than you are! I'm strong as—as—a + man!” + </p> + <p> + I do not suppose she meant the insinuation; at any rate The Pilot ignored + it and went on. + </p> + <p> + “You're not strong enough to keep your temper down.” And then, as she had + no reply ready, he went on, “And really, Gwen, it is not right. You must + not go on in this way.” + </p> + <p> + Again his words were unfortunate. + </p> + <p> + “MUST NOT!” she cried, adding an inch to her height. “Who says so?” + </p> + <p> + “God!” was the simple, short answer. + </p> + <p> + She was greatly taken back, and gave a quick glance over her shoulder as + if to see Him, who would dare to say MUST NOT to her; but, recovering, she + answered sullenly: + </p> + <p> + “I don't care!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't care for God?” The Pilot's voice was quiet and solemn, but + something in his manner angered her, and she blazed forth again. + </p> + <p> + “I don't care for anyone, and I SHALL do as I like.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot looked at her sadly for a moment, and then said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Some day, Gwen, you will not be able to do as you like.” + </p> + <p> + I remember well the settled defiance in her tone and manner as she took a + step nearer him and answered in a voice trembling with passion: + </p> + <p> + “Listen! I have always done as I like, and I shall do as I like till I + die!” And she rushed forth from the house and down toward the canyon, her + refuge from all disturbing things, and chiefly from herself. + </p> + <p> + I could not shake off the impression her words made upon me. “Pretty + direct, that,” I said to The Pilot, as we rode away. “The declaration may + be philosophically correct, but it rings uncommonly like a challenge to + the Almighty. Throws down the gauntlet, so to speak.” + </p> + <p> + But The Pilot only said, “Don't! How can you?” + </p> + <p> + Within a week her challenge was accepted, and how fiercely and how + gallantly did she struggle to make it good! + </p> + <p> + It was The Duke that brought me the news, and as he told me the story his + gay, careless self-command for once was gone. For in the gloom of the + canyon where he overtook me I could see his face gleaming out ghastly + white, and even his iron nerve could not keep the tremor from his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I've just sent up the doctor,” was his answer to my greeting. “I looked + for you last night, couldn't find you, and so rode off to the Fort.” + </p> + <p> + “What's up?” I said, with fear in my heart, for no light thing moved The + Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't you heard? It's Gwen,” he said, and the next minute or two he + gave to Jingo, who was indulging in a series of unexpected plunges. When + Jingo was brought down, The Duke was master of himself and told his tale + with careful self-control. + </p> + <p> + Gwen, on her father's buckskin bronco, had gone with The Duke to the big + plain above the cut-bank where Joe was herding the cattle. The day was hot + and a storm was in the air. They found Joe riding up and down, singing to + keep the cattle quiet, but having a hard time to hold the bunch from + breaking. While The Duke was riding around the far side of the bunch, a + cry from Gwen arrested his attention. Joe was in trouble. His horse, a + half-broken cayuse, had stumbled into a badger-hole and had bolted, + leaving Joe to the mercy of the cattle. At once they began to sniff + suspiciously at this phenomenon, a man on foot, and to follow cautiously + on his track. Joe kept his head and walked slowly out, till all at once a + young cow began to bawl and to paw the ground. In another minute one, and + then another of the cattle began to toss their heads and bunch and bellow + till the whole herd of two hundred were after Joe. Then Joe lost his head + and ran. Immediately the whole herd broke into a thundering gallop with + heads and tails aloft and horns rattling like the loading of a regiment of + rifles. + </p> + <p> + “Two more minutes,” said The Duke, “would have done for Joe, for I could + never have reached him; but, in spite of my most frantic warnings and + signalings, right into the face of that mad, bellowing, thundering mass of + steers rode that little girl. Nerve! I have some myself, but I couldn't + have done it. She swung her horse round Joe and sailed out with him, with + the herd bellowing at the tail of her bronco. I've seen some cavalry + things in my day, but for sheer cool bravery nothing touches that.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it end? Did they run them down?” I asked, with terror at such a + result. + </p> + <p> + “No, they crowded her toward the cut-bank, and she was edging them off and + was almost past, when they came to a place where the bank bit in, and her + iron-mouthed brute wouldn't swerve, but went pounding on, broke through, + plunged; she couldn't spring free because of Joe, and pitched headlong + over the bank, while the cattle went thundering past. I flung myself off + Jingo and slid down somehow into the sand, thirty feet below. Here was Joe + safe enough, but the bronco lay with a broken leg, and half under him was + Gwen. She hardly knew she was hurt, but waved her hand to me and cried + out, 'Wasn't that a race? I couldn't swing this hard-headed brute. Get me + out.' But even as she spoke the light faded from her eyes, she stretched + out her hands to me, saying faintly, 'Oh, Duke,' and lay back white and + still. We put a bullet into the buckskin's head, and carried her home in + our jackets, and there she lies without a sound from her poor, white + lips.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke was badly cut up. I had never seen him show any sign of grief + before, but as he finished the story he stood ghastly and shaking. He read + my surprise in my face and said: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, old chap, don't think me quite a fool. You can't know what + that little girl has done for me these years. Her trust in me—it is + extraordinary how utterly she trusts me—somehow held me up to my + best and back from perdition. It is the one bright spot in my life in this + blessed country. Everyone else thinks me a pleasant or unpleasant kind of + fiend.” + </p> + <p> + I protested rather faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't worry your conscience,” he answered, with a slight return of + his old smile, “a fuller knowledge would only justify the opinion.” Then, + after a pause, he added: “But if Gwen goes, I must pull out, I could not + stand it.” + </p> + <p> + As we rode up, the doctor came out. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think?” asked The Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Can't say yet,” replied the old doctor, gruff with long army practice, + “bad enough. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + But The Duke's hand fell upon his shoulder with a grip that must have got + to the bone, and in a husky voice he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Will she live?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor squirmed, but could not shake off that crushing grip. + </p> + <p> + “Here, you young tiger, let go! What do you think I am made of?” he cried, + angrily. “I didn't suppose I was coming to a bear's den, or I should have + brought a gun.” + </p> + <p> + It was only by the most complete apology that The Duke could mollify the + old doctor sufficiently to get his opinion. + </p> + <p> + “No, she will not die! Great bit of stuff! Better she should die, perhaps! + But can't say yet for two weeks. Now remember,” he added sharply, looking + into The Duke's woe-stricken face, “her spirits must be kept up. I have + lied most fully and cheerfully to them inside; you must do the same,” and + the doctor strode away, calling out: + </p> + <p> + “Joe! Here, Joe! Where is he gone? Joe, I say! Extraordinary selection + Providence makes at times; we could have spared that lazy half-breed with + pleasure! Joe! Oh, here you are! Where in thunder—” But here the + doctor stopped abruptly. The agony in the dark face before him was too + much even for the bluff doctor. Straight and stiff Joe stood by the + horse's head till the doctor had mounted, then with a great effort he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Little miss, she go dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead!” called out the doctor, glancing at the open window. “Why, bless + your old copper carcass, no! Gwen will show you yet how to rope a steer.” + </p> + <p> + Joe took a step nearer, and lowering his tone said: + </p> + <p> + “You speak me true? Me man, Me no papoose.” The piercing black eyes + searched the doctor's face. The doctor hesitated a moment, and then, with + an air of great candor, said cheerily: + </p> + <p> + “That's all right, Joe. Miss Gwen will cut circles round your old cayuse + yet. But remember,” and the doctor was very impressive, “you must make her + laugh every day.” + </p> + <p> + Joe folded his arms across his breast and stood like a statue till the + doctor rode away; then turning to us he grunted out: + </p> + <p> + “Him good man, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Good man,” answered The Duke, adding, “but remember, Joe, what he told + you to do. Must make her laugh every day.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Joe! Humor was not his forte, and his attempt in this direction in + the weeks that followed would have been humorous were they not so + pathetic. How I did my part I cannot tell. Those weeks are to me now like + the memory of an ugly nightmare. The ghostly old man moving out and in of + his little daughter's room in useless, dumb agony; Ponka's woe-stricken + Indian face; Joe's extraordinary and unusual but loyal attempts at + fun-making grotesquely sad, and The Duke's unvarying and invincible + cheeriness; these furnish light and shade for the picture my memory brings + me of Gwen in those days. + </p> + <p> + For the first two weeks she was simply heroic. She bore her pain without a + groan, submitted to the imprisonment which was harder than pain with + angelic patience. Joe, The Duke and I carried out our instructions with + careful exactness to the letter. She never doubted, and we never let her + doubt but that in a few weeks she would be on the pinto's back again and + after the cattle. She made us pass our word for this till it seemed as if + she must have read the falsehoods on our brows. + </p> + <p> + “To lie cheerfully with her eyes upon one's face calls for more than I + possess,” said The Duke one day. “The doctor should supply us tonics. It + is an arduous task.” + </p> + <p> + And she believed us absolutely, and made plans for the fall “round-up,” + and for hunts and rides till one's heart grew sick. As to the ethical + problem involved, I decline to express an opinion, but we had no need to + wait for our punishment. Her trust in us, her eager and confident + expectation of the return of her happy, free, outdoor life; these brought + to us, who knew how vain they were, their own adequate punishment for + every false assurance we gave. And how bright and brave she was those + first days! How resolute to get back to the world of air and light + outside! + </p> + <p> + But she had need of all her brightness and courage and resolution before + she was done with her long fight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <h3> + GWEN'S CANYON + </h3> + <p> + Gwen's hope and bright courage, in spite of all her pain, were wonderful + to witness. But all this cheery hope and courage and patience snuffed out + as a candle, leaving noisome darkness to settle down in that sick-room + from the day of the doctor's consultation. + </p> + <p> + The verdict was clear and final. The old doctor, who loved Gwen as his + own, was inclined to hope against hope, but Fawcett, the clever young + doctor from the distant town, was positive in his opinion. The scene is + clear to me now, after many years. We three stood in the outer room; The + Duke and her father were with Gwen. So earnest was the discussion that + none of us heard the door open just as young Fawcett was saying in + incisive tones: + </p> + <p> + “No! I can see no hope. The child can never walk again.” + </p> + <p> + There was a cry behind us. + </p> + <p> + “What! Never walk again! It's a lie!” There stood the Old Timer, white, + fierce, shaking. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the old doctor, pointing at the open door. He was too late. + Even as he spoke, there came from the inner room a wild, unearthly cry as + of some dying thing and, as we stood gazing at one another with + awe-stricken faces, we heard Gwen's voice as in quick, sharp pain. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy! daddy! come! What do they say? Tell me, daddy. It is not true! It + is not true! Look at me, daddy!” + </p> + <p> + She pulled up her father's haggard face from the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, daddy, daddy, you know it's true. Never walk again!” + </p> + <p> + She turned with a pitiful cry to The Duke, who stood white and stiff with + arms drawn tight across his breast on the other side of the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Duke, did you hear them? You told me to be brave, and I tried not to + cry when they hurt me. But I can't be brave! Can I, Duke? Oh, Duke! Never + to ride again!” + </p> + <p> + She stretched out her hands to him. But The Duke, leaning over her and + holding her hands fast in his, could only say brokenly over and over: + “Don't, Gwen! Don't, Gwen dear!” + </p> + <p> + But the pitiful, pleading voice went on. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Duke! Must I always lie here? Must, I? Why must I?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” answered The Duke bitterly, under his breath, “I don't!” + </p> + <p> + She caught at the word. + </p> + <p> + “Does He?” she cried, eagerly. Then she paused suddenly, turned to me and + said: “Do you remember he said some day I could not do as I liked?” + </p> + <p> + I was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “The Pilot,” she cried, impatiently, “don't you remember? And I said I + should do as I liked till I died.” + </p> + <p> + I nodded my head and said: “But you know you didn't mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “But I did, and I do,” she cried, with passionate vehemence, “and I will + do as I like! I will not lie here! I will ride! I will! I will! I will!” + and she struggled up, clenched her fists, and sank back faint and weak. It + was not a pleasant sight, but gruesome. Her rage against that Unseen + Omnipotence was so defiant and so helpless. + </p> + <p> + Those were dreadful weeks to Gwen and to all about her. The constant pain + could not break her proud spirit; she shed no tears; but she fretted and + chafed and grew more imperiously exacting every day. Ponka and Joe she + drove like a slave master, and even her father, when he could not + understand her wishes, she impatiently banished from her room. Only The + Duke could please or bring her any cheer, and even The Duke began to feel + that the day was not far off when he, too, would fail, and the thought + made him despair. Her pain was hard to bear, but harder than the pain was + her longing for the open air and the free, flower-strewn, breeze-swept + prairie. But most pitiful of all were the days when, in her utter + weariness and uncontrollable unrest, she would pray to be taken down into + the canyon. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is so cool and shady,” she would plead, “and the flowers up in the + rocks and the vines and things are all so lovely. I am always better + there. I know I should be better,” till The Duke would be distracted and + would come to me and wonder what the end would be. + </p> + <p> + One day, when the strain had been more terrible than usual, The Duke rode + down to me and said: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, this thing can't go on. Where is The Pilot gone? Why doesn't + he stay where he belongs? I wish to Heaven he would get through with his + absurd rambling.” + </p> + <p> + “He's gone where he was sent,” I replied shortly. “You don't set much + store by him when he does come round. He is gone on an exploring trip + through the Dog Lake country. He'll be back by the end of next week.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, bring him up, for Heaven's sake,” said The Duke, “he may be of + some use, and anyway it will be a new face for her, poor child.” Then he + added, rather penitently: “I fear this thing is getting on to my nerves. + She almost drove me out to-day. Don't lay it up against me, old chap.” + </p> + <p> + It was a new thing to hear The Duke confess his need of any man, much less + penitence for a fault. I felt my eyes growing dim, but I said, roughly: + </p> + <p> + “You be hanged! I'll bring The Pilot up when he comes.” + </p> + <p> + It was wonderful how we had all come to confide in The Pilot during his + year of missionary work among us. Somehow the cowboy's name of “Sky Pilot” + seemed to express better than anything else the place he held with us. + Certain it is, that when, in their dark hours, any of the fellows felt in + need of help to strike the “upward trail,” they went to The Pilot; and so + the name first given in chaff came to be the name that expressed most + truly the deep and tender feeling these rough, big-hearted men cherished + for him. When The Pilot came home I carefully prepared him for his trial, + telling all that Gwen had suffered and striving to make him feel how + desperate was her case when even The Duke had to confess himself beaten. + He did not seem sufficiently impressed. Then I pictured for him all her + fierce wilfulness and her fretful humors, her impatience with those who + loved her and were wearing out their souls and bodies for her. “In short,” + I concluded, “she doesn't care a rush for anything in heaven or earth, and + will yield to neither man nor God.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot's eyes had been kindling as I talked, but he only answered, + quietly: + </p> + <p> + “What could you expect?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I do think she might show some signs of gratitude and some + gentleness towards those ready to die for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you do!” said he, with high scorn. “You all combine to ruin her + temper and disposition with foolish flattery and weak yielding to her + whims, right or wrong; you smile at her imperious pride and encourage her + wilfulness, and then not only wonder at the results, but blame her, poor + child, for all. Oh, you are a fine lot, The Duke and all of you!” + </p> + <p> + He had a most exasperating ability for putting one in the wrong, and I + could only think of the proper and sufficient reply long after the + opportunity for making it had passed. I wondered what The Duke would say + to this doctrine. All the following day, which was Sunday, I could see + that Gwen was on The Pilot's mind. He was struggling with the problem of + pain. + </p> + <p> + Monday morning found us on the way to the Old Timer's ranch. And what a + morning it was! How beautiful our world seemed! About us rolled the + round-topped, velvet hills, brown and yellow or faintly green, spreading + out behind us to the broad prairie, and before, clambering up and up to + meet the purple bases of the great mountains that lay their mighty length + along the horizon and thrust up white, sunlit peaks into the blue sky. On + the hillsides and down in the sheltering hollows we could see the bunches + of cattle and horses feeding upon the rich grasses. High above, the sky, + cloudless and blue, arched its great kindly roof from prairie to mountain + peaks, and over all, above, below, upon prairie, hillsides and mountains, + the sun poured his floods of radiant yellow light. + </p> + <p> + As we followed the trail that wound up and into the heart of these rounded + hills and ever nearer to the purple mountains, the morning breeze swept + down to meet us, bearing a thousand scents, and filling us with its own + fresh life. One can know the quickening joyousness of these Foothill + breezes only after he has drunk with wide-open mouth, deep and full of + them. + </p> + <p> + Through all this mingling beauty of sunlit hills and shady hollows and + purple, snow-peaked mountains, we rode with hardly a word, every minute + adding to our heart-filling delight, but ever with the thought of the + little room where, shut in from all this outside glory, lay Gwen, + heart-sore with fretting and longing. This must have been in The Pilot's + mind, for he suddenly held up his horse and burst out: + </p> + <p> + “Poor Gwen, how she loves all this!—it is her very life. How can she + help fretting the heart out of her? To see this no more!” He flung himself + off his bronco and said, as if thinking aloud: “It is too awful! Oh, it is + cruel! I don't wonder at her! God help me, what can I say to her?” + </p> + <p> + He threw himself down upon the grass and turned over on his face. After a + few minutes he appealed to me, and his face was sorely troubled. + </p> + <p> + “How can one go to her? It seems to me sheerest mockery to speak of + patience and submission to a wild young thing from whom all this is + suddenly snatched forever—and this was very life to her, too, + remember.” + </p> + <p> + Then he sprang up and we rode hard for an hour, till we came to the mouth + of the canyon. Here the trail grew difficult and we came to a walk. As we + went down into the cool depths the spirit of the canyon came to meet us + and took The Pilot in its grip. He rode in front, feasting his eyes on all + the wonders in that storehouse of beauty. Trees of many kinds deepened the + shadows of the canyon. Over us waved the big elms that grew up here and + there out of the bottom, and around their feet clustered low cedars and + hemlocks and balsams, while the sturdy, rugged oaks and delicate, + trembling poplars clung to the rocky sides and clambered up and out to the + canyon's sunny lips. Back of all, the great black rocks, decked with mossy + bits and clinging things, glistened cool and moist between the parting + trees. From many an oozy nook the dainty clematis and columbine shook out + their bells, and, lower down, from beds of many-colored moss the late + wind-flower and maiden-hair and tiny violet lifted up brave, sweet faces. + And through the canyon the Little Swan sang its song to rocks and flowers + and overhanging trees, a song of many tones, deep-booming where it took + its first sheer plunge, gay-chattering where it threw itself down the + ragged rocks, and soft-murmuring where it lingered about the roots of the + loving, listening elms. A cool, sweet, soothing place it was, with all its + shades and sounds and silences, and, lest it should be sad to any, the + sharp, quick sunbeams danced and laughed down through all its leaves upon + mosses, flowers and rocks. No wonder that The Pilot, drawing a deep breath + as he touched the prairie sod again, said: + </p> + <p> + “That does me good. It is better at times even than the sunny hills. This + was Gwen's best spot.” + </p> + <p> + I saw that the canyon had done its work with him. His face was strong and + calm as the hills on a summer morning, and with this face he looked in + upon Gwen. It was one of her bad days and one of her bad moods, but like a + summer breeze he burst into the little room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gwen!” he cried, without a word of greeting, much less of + Commiseration, “we have had such a ride!” And he spread out the sunlit, + round-topped hills before her, till I could feel their very breezes in my + face. This The Duke had never dared to do, fearing to grieve her with + pictures of what she should look upon no more. But, as The Pilot talked, + before she knew, Gwen was out again upon her beloved hills, breathing + their fresh, sunny air, filling her heart with their multitudinous + delights, till her eyes grew bright and the lines of fretting smoothed out + of her face and she forgot her pain. Then, before she could remember, he + had her down into the canyon, feasting her heart with its airs and sights + and sounds. The black, glistening rocks, tricked out with moss and + trailing vines, the great elms and low green cedars, the oaks and + shivering poplars, the clematis and columbine hanging from the rocky + nooks, and the violets and maiden-hair deep bedded in their mosses. All + this and far more he showed her with a touch so light as not to shake the + morning dew from bell or leaf or frond, and with a voice so soft and full + of music as to fill our hearts with the canyon's mingling sounds, and, as + I looked upon her face, I said to myself: “Dear old Pilot! for this I + shall always love you well.” As poor Gwen listened, the rapture of it drew + the big tears down her cheeks—alas! no longer brown, but white, and + for that day at least the dull, dead weariness was lifted from her heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE CANYON FLOWERS + </h3> + <p> + The Pilot's first visit to Gwen had been a triumph. But none knew better + than he that the fight was still to come, for deep in Gwen's heart were + thoughts whose pain made her forget all other. + </p> + <p> + “Was it God let me fall?” she asked abruptly one day, and The Pilot knew + the fight was on; but he only answered, looking fearlessly into her eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Gwen dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did He let me fall?” and her voice was very deliberate. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Gwen dear,” said The Pilot steadily. “He knows.” + </p> + <p> + “And does He know I shall never ride again? Does He know how long the days + are, and the nights when I can't sleep? Does He know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Gwen dear,” said The Pilot, and the tears were standing in his eyes, + though his voice was still steady enough. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure He knows?” The voice was painfully intense. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Gwen,” began The Pilot, in great distress, but she cut him + short. + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure He knows? Answer me!” she cried, with her old + imperiousness. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Gwen, He knows all about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you think of Him, just because He's big and strong, treating + a little girl that way?” Then she added, viciously: “I hate Him! I don't + care! I hate Him!” + </p> + <p> + But The Pilot did not wince. I wondered how he would solve that problem + that was puzzling, not only Gwen, but her father and The Duke, and all of + us—the WHY of human pain. + </p> + <p> + “Gwen,” said The Pilot, as if changing the subject, “did it hurt to put on + the plaster jacket?” + </p> + <p> + “You just bet!” said Gwen, lapsing in her English, as The Duke was not + present; “it was worse than anything—awful! They had to straighten + me out, you know,” and she shuddered at the memory of that pain. + </p> + <p> + “What a pity your father or The Duke was not here!” said The Pilot, + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, they were both here!” + </p> + <p> + “What a cruel shame!” burst out The Pilot. “Don't they care for you any + more?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course they do,” said Gwen, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't they stop the doctors from hurting you so cruelly?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they let the doctors. It is going to help me to sit up and perhaps + to walk about a little,” answered Gwen, with blue-gray eyes open wide. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said The Pilot, “it was very mean to stand by and see you hurt like + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you silly,” replied Owen, impatiently, “they want my back to get + straight and strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then they didn't do it just for fun or for nothing?” said The Pilot, + innocently. + </p> + <p> + Gwen gazed at him in amazed and speechless wrath, and he went on: + </p> + <p> + “I mean they love you though they let you be hurt; or rather they let the + doctors hurt you BECAUSE they loved you and wanted to make you better.” + </p> + <p> + Gwen kept her eyes fixed with curious earnestness upon his face till the + light began to dawn. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean,” she began slowly, “that though God let me fall, He loves + me?” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot nodded; he could not trust his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if that can be true,” she said, as if to herself; and soon we + said good-by and came away—The Pilot, limp and voiceless, but I + triumphant, for I began to see a little light for Gwen. + </p> + <p> + But the fight was by no means over; indeed, it was hardly well begun. For + when the autumn came, with its misty, purple days, most glorious of all + days in the cattle country, the old restlessness came back and the fierce + refusal of her lot. Then came the day of the round-up. Why should she have + to stay while all went after the cattle? The Duke would have remained, but + she impatiently sent him away. She was weary and heart-sick, and, worst of + all, she began to feel that most terrible of burdens, the burden of her + life to others. I was much relieved when The Pilot came in fresh and + bright, waving a bunch of wild-flowers in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I thought they were all gone,” he cried. “Where do you think I found + them? Right down by the big elm root,” and, though he saw by the settled + gloom of her face that the storm was coming, he went bravely on picturing + the canyon in all the splendor of its autumn dress. But the spell would + not work. Her heart was out on the sloping hills, where the cattle were + bunching and crowding with tossing heads and rattling horns, and it was in + a voice very bitter and impatient that she cried: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am sick of all this! I want to ride! I want to see the cattle and + the men and—and—and all the things outside.” The Pilot was + cowboy enough to know the longing that tugged at her heart for one wild + race after the calves or steers, but he could only say: + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Gwen. Try to be patient.” + </p> + <p> + “I am patient; at least I have been patient for two whole months, and it's + no use, and I don't believe God cares one bit!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, He does, Gwen, more than any of us,” replied The Pilot, earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “No, He does not care,” she answered, with angry emphasis, and The Pilot + made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she went on, hesitatingly, “He's angry because I said I didn't + care for Him, you remember? That was very wicked. But don't you think I'm + punished nearly enough now? You made me very angry, and I didn't really + mean it.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Gwen! God had grown to be very real to her during these weeks of + pain, and very terrible. The Pilot looked down a moment into the blue-gray + eyes, grown so big and so pitiful, and hurriedly dropping on his knees + beside the bed he said, in a very unsteady voice: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Gwen, Gwen, He's not like that. Don't you remember how Jesus was with + the poor sick people? That's what He's like.” + </p> + <p> + “Could Jesus make me well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Gwen.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why doesn't He?” she asked; and there was no impatience now, but + only trembling anxiety as she went on in a timid voice: “I asked Him to, + over and over, and said I would wait two months, and now it's more than + three. Are you quite sure He hears now?” She raised herself on her elbow + and gazed searchingly into The Pilot's face. I was glad it was not into + mine. As she uttered the words, “Are you quite sure?” one felt that things + were in the balance. I could not help looking at The Pilot with intense + anxiety. What would he answer? The Pilot gazed out of the window upon the + hills for a few moments. How long the silence seemed! Then, turning, + looked into the eyes that searched his so steadily and answered simply: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Gwen, I am quite sure!” Then, with quick inspiration, he got her + mother's Bible and said: “Now, Gwen, try to see it as I read.” But, before + he read, with the true artist's instinct he created the proper atmosphere. + By a few vivid words he made us feel the pathetic loneliness of the Man of + Sorrows in His last sad days. Then he read that masterpiece of all tragic + picturing, the story of Gethsemane. And as he read we saw it all. The + garden and the trees and the sorrow-stricken Man alone with His mysterious + agony. We heard the prayer so pathetically submissive and then, for + answer, the rabble and the traitor. + </p> + <p> + Gwen was far too quick to need explanation, and The Pilot only said, “You + see, Gwen, God gave nothing but the best—to His own Son only the + best.” + </p> + <p> + “The best? They took Him away, didn't they?” She knew the story well. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but listen.” He turned the leaves rapidly and read: “'We see Jesus + for the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor.' That is how He + got His Kingdom.” + </p> + <p> + Gwen listened silent but unconvinced, and then said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “But how can this be best for me? I am no use to anyone. It can't be best + to just lie here and make them all wait on me, and—and—I did + want to help daddy—and—oh—I know they will get tired of + me! They are getting tired already—I—I—can't help being + hateful.” + </p> + <p> + She was by this time sobbing as I had never heard her before—deep, + passionate sobs. Then again the Pilot had an inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Gwen,” he said severely, “you know we're not as mean as that, and + that you are just talking nonsense, every word. Now I'm going to smooth + out your red hair and tell you a story.” + </p> + <p> + “It's NOT red,” she cried, between her sobs. This was her sore point. + </p> + <p> + “It is red, as red can be; a beautiful, shining purple RED,” said The + Pilot emphatically, beginning to brush. + </p> + <p> + “Purple!” cried Gwen, scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I've seen it in the sun, purple. Haven't you?” said The Pilot, + appealing to me. “And my story is about the canyon, our canyon, your + canyon, down there.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it true?” asked Gwen, already soothed by the cool, quick-moving hands. + </p> + <p> + “True? It's as true as—as—” he glanced round the room, “as the + Pilgrim's Progress.” This was satisfactory, and the story went on. + </p> + <p> + “At first there were no canyons, but only the broad, open prairie. One day + the Master of the Prairie, walking out over his great lawns, where were + only grasses, asked the Prairie, 'Where are your flowers?' and the Prairie + said, 'Master, I have no seeds.' Then he spoke to the birds, and they + carried seeds of every kind of flower and strewed them far and wide, and + soon the Prairie bloomed with crocuses and roses and buffalo beans and the + yellow crowfoot and the wild sunflowers and the red lilies all the summer + long. Then the Master came and was well pleased; but he missed the flowers + he loved best of all, and he said to the Prairie: 'Where are the clematis + and the columbine, the sweet violets and wind flowers, and all the ferns + and flowering shrubs?' And again he spoke to the birds, and again they + carried all the seeds and strewed them far and wide. But, again, when the + Master came, he could not find the flowers he loved best of all, and he + said: 'Where are those, my sweetest flowers?' and the Prairie cried + sorrowfully: 'Oh, Master, I cannot keep the flowers, for the winds sweep + fiercely, and the sun beats upon my breast, and they wither up and fly + away.' Then the Master spoke to the Lightning, and with one swift blow the + Lightning cleft the Prairie to the heart. And the Prairie rocked and + groaned in agony, and for many a day moaned bitterly over its black, + jagged, gaping wound. But the Little Swan poured its waters through the + cleft, and carried down deep black mould, and once more the birds carried + seeds and strewed them in the canyon. And after a long time the rough + rocks were decked out with soft mosses and trailing vines, and all the + nooks were hung with clematis and columbine, and great elms lifted their + huge tops high up into the sunlight, and down about their feet clustered + the low cedars and balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flower and + maiden-hair grew and bloomed, till the canyon became the Masters place for + rest and peace and joy.” + </p> + <p> + The quaint tale was ended, and Gwen lay quiet for some moments, then said + gently: + </p> + <p> + “Yes! The canyon flowers are much the best. Tell me what it means.” + </p> + <p> + Then The Pilot read to her: “The fruits—I'll read 'flowers'—of + the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, + faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these grow only in the canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “Which are the canyon flowers?” asked Gwen softly, and The Pilot answered: + </p> + <p> + “Gentleness, meekness, self-control; but though the others, love, joy, + peace, bloom in the open, yet never with so rich a bloom and so sweet a + perfume as in the canyon.” + </p> + <p> + For a long time Gwen lay quite still, and then said wistfully, while her + lip trembled: + </p> + <p> + “There are no flowers in my canyon, but only ragged rocks.” + </p> + <p> + “Some day they will bloom, Gwen dear; He will find them, and we, too, + shall see them.” + </p> + <p> + Then he said good-by and took me away. He had done his work that day. + </p> + <p> + We rode through the big gate, down the sloping hill, past the smiling, + twinkling little lake, and down again out of the broad sunshine into the + shadows and soft lights of the canyon. As we followed the trail that wound + among the elms and cedars, the very air was full of gentle stillness; and + as we moved we seemed to feel the touch of loving hands that lingered + while they left us, and every flower and tree and vine and shrub and the + soft mosses and the deep-bedded ferns whispered, as we passed, of love and + peace and joy. + </p> + <p> + To The Duke it was all a wonder, for as the days shortened outside they + brightened inside; and every day, and more and more Gwen's room became the + brightest spot in all the house, and when he asked The Pilot: + </p> + <p> + “What did you do to the Little Princess, and what's all this about the + canyon and its flowers?” The Pilot said, looking wistfully into The Duke's + eyes: + </p> + <p> + “The fruits of the Spirit are love, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, + goodness, faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these are found only + in the canyon,” and The Duke, standing up straight, handsome and strong, + looked back at The Pilot and said, putting out his hand: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, I believe you're right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm quite sure,” answered The Pilot, simply. Then, holding The + Duke's hand as long as one man dare hold another's, he added: “When you + come to your canyon, remember.” + </p> + <p> + “When I come!” said The Duke, and a quick spasm of pain passed over his + handsome face—“God help me, it's not too far away now.” Then he + smiled again his old, sweet smile, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are all right, for, of all flowers I have seen, none are fairer + or sweeter than those that are waving in Gwen's Canyon.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <h3> + BILL'S BLUFF + </h3> + <p> + The Pilot had set his heart upon the building of a church in the Swan + Creek district, partly because he was human and wished to set a mark of + remembrance upon the country, but more because he held the sensible + opinion, that a congregation, as a man, must have a home if it is to stay. + </p> + <p> + All through the summer he kept setting this as an object at once desirable + and possible to achieve. But few were found to agree with him. + </p> + <p> + Little Mrs. Muir was of the few, and she was not to be despised, but her + influence was neutralized by the solid immobility of her husband. He had + never done anything sudden in his life. Every resolve was the result of a + long process of mind, and every act of importance had to be previewed from + all possible points. An honest man, strongly religious, and a great + admirer of The Pilot, but slow-moving as a glacier, although with plenty + of fire in him deep down. + </p> + <p> + “He's soond at the hairt, ma man Robbie,” his wife said to The Pilot, who + was fuming and fretting at the blocking of his plans, “but he's terrible + deleeberate. Bide ye a bit, laddie. He'll come tae.” + </p> + <p> + “But meantime the summer's going and nothing will be done,” was The + Pilot's distressed and impatient answer. + </p> + <p> + So a meeting was called to discuss the question of building a church, with + the result that the five men and three women present decided that for the + present nothing could be done. This was really Robbie's opinion, though he + refused to do or say anything but grunt, as The Pilot said to me + afterwards, in a rage. It is true, Williams, the storekeeper just come + from “across the line,” did all the talking, but no one paid much + attention to his fluent fatuities except as they represented the + unexpressed mind of the dour, exasperating little Scotchman, who sat + silent but for an “ay” now and then, so expressive and conclusive that + everyone knew what he meant, and that discussion was at an end. The + schoolhouse was quite sufficient for the present; the people were too few + and too poor and they were getting on well under the leadership of their + present minister. These were the arguments which Robbie's “ay” stamped as + quite unanswerable. + </p> + <p> + It was a sore blow to The Pilot, who had set his heart upon a church, and + neither Mrs. Muir's “hoots” at her husband's slowness nor her promises + that she “wad mak him hear it” could bring comfort or relieve his gloom. + </p> + <p> + In this state of mind he rode up with me to pay our weekly visit to the + little girl shut up in her lonely house among the hills. + </p> + <p> + It had become The Pilot's custom during these weeks to turn for cheer to + that little room, and seldom was he disappointed. She was so bright, so + brave, so cheery, and so full of fun, that gloom faded from her presence + as mist before the sun, and impatience was shamed into content. + </p> + <p> + Gwen's bright face—it was almost always bright now—and her + bright welcome did something for The Pilot, but the feeling of failure was + upon him, and failure to his enthusiastic nature was worse than pain. Not + that he confessed either to failure or gloom; he was far too true a man + for that; but Gwen felt his depression in spite of all his brave attempts + at brightness, and insisted that he was ill, appealing to me. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's only his church,” I said, proceeding to give her an account of + Robbie Muir's silent, solid inertness, and how he had blocked The Pilot's + scheme. + </p> + <p> + “What a shame!” cried Gwen, indignantly. “What a bad man he must be!” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot smiled. “No, indeed,” he answered; “why, he's the best man in + the place, but I wish he would say or do something. If he would only get + mad and swear I think I should feel happier.” + </p> + <p> + Gwen looked quite mystified. + </p> + <p> + “You see, he sits there in solemn silence looking so tremendously wise + that most men feel foolish if they speak, while as for doing anything the + idea appears preposterous, in the face of his immovableness.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't bear him!” cried Gwen. “I should like to stick pins in him.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish some one would,” answered The Pilot. “It would make him seem more + human if he could be made to jump.” + </p> + <p> + “Try again,” said Gwen, “and get someone to make him jump.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be easier to build the church,” said The Pilot, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “I could make him jump,” said Gwen, viciously, “and I WILL,” she added, + after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “You!” answered The Pilot, opening his eyes. “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll find some way,” she replied, resolutely. + </p> + <p> + And so she did, for when the next meeting was called to consult as to the + building of a church, the congregation, chiefly of farmers and their + wives, with Williams, the storekeeper, were greatly surprised to see + Bronco Bill, Hi, and half a dozen ranchers and cowboys walk in at + intervals and solemnly seat themselves. Robbie looked at them with + surprise and a little suspicion. In church matters he had no dealings with + the Samaritans from the hills, and while, in their unregenerate condition, + they might be regarded as suitable objects of missionary effort, as to + their having any part in the direction, much less control, of the church + policy—from such a notion Robbie was delivered by his loyal + adherence to the scriptural injunction that he should not cast pearls + before swine. + </p> + <p> + The Pilot, though surprised to see Bill and the cattle men, was none the + less delighted, and faced the meeting with more confidence. He stated the + question for discussion: Should a church building be erected this summer + in Swan Creek? and he put his case well. He showed the need of a church + for the sake of the congregation, for the sake of the men in the district, + the families growing up, the incoming settlers, and for the sake of the + country and its future. He called upon all who loved their church and + their country to unite in this effort. It was an enthusiastic appeal and + all the women and some of the men were at once upon his side. + </p> + <p> + Then followed dead, solemn silence. Robbie was content to wait till the + effect of the speech should be dissipated in smaller talk. Then he gravely + said: + </p> + <p> + “The kirk wad be a gran' thing, nae doot, an' they wad a' dootless”—with + a suspicious glance toward Bill—“rejoice in its erection. But we + maun be cautious, an' I wad like to enquire hoo much money a kirk cud be + built for, and whaur the money wad come frae?” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot was ready with his answer. The cost would be $1,200. The Church + Building Fund would contribute $200, the people could give $300 in labor, + and the remaining $700 he thought could be raised in the district in two + years' time. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Robbie, and the tone and manner were sufficient to drench any + enthusiasm with the chilliest of water. So much was this the case that the + chairman, Williams, seemed quite justified in saying: + </p> + <p> + “It is quite evident that the opinion of the meeting is adverse to any + attempt to load the community with a debt of one thousand dollars,” and he + proceeded with a very complete statement of the many and various + objections to any attempt at building a church this year. The people were + very few, they were dispersed over a large area, they were not interested + sufficiently, they were all spending money and making little in return; he + supposed, therefore, that the meeting might adjourn. + </p> + <p> + Robbie sat silent and expressionless in spite of his little wife's anxious + whispers and nudges. The Pilot looked the picture of woe, and was on the + point of bursting forth, when the meeting was startled by Bill. + </p> + <p> + “Say, boys! they hain't much stuck on their shop, heh?” The low, drawling + voice was perfectly distinct and arresting. + </p> + <p> + “Hain't got no use for it, seemingly,” was the answer from the dark + corner. + </p> + <p> + “Old Scotchie takes his religion out in prayin', I guess,” drawled in + Bill, “but wants to sponge for his plant.” + </p> + <p> + This reference to Robbie's proposal to use the school moved the youngsters + to tittering and made the little Scotchman squirm, for he prided himself + upon his independence. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't $700 in the hull blanked outfit.” This was a stranger's + voice, and again Robbie squirmed, for he rather prided himself also on his + ability to pay his way. + </p> + <p> + “No good!” said another emphatic voice. “A blanked lot o' psalm-singing + snipes.” + </p> + <p> + “Order, order!” cried the chairman. + </p> + <p> + “Old Windbag there don't see any show for swipin' the collection, with + Scotchie round,” said Hi, with a following ripple of quiet laughter, for + Williams' reputation was none too secure. + </p> + <p> + Robbie was in a most uncomfortable state of mind. So unusually stirred was + he that for the first time in his history he made a motion. + </p> + <p> + “I move we adjourn, Mr. Chairman,” he said, in a voice which actually + vibrated with emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Different here! eh, boys?” drawled Bill. + </p> + <p> + “You bet,” said Hi, in huge delight. “The meetin' ain't out yit.” + </p> + <p> + “Ye can bide till mor-r-nin',” said Robbie, angrily. “A'm gaen hame,” + beginning to put on his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Seems as if he orter give the password,” drawled Bill. + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, pardner,” said Hi, springing to the door and waiting in + delighted expectation for his friend's lead. + </p> + <p> + Robbie looked at the door, then at his wife, hesitated a moment, I have no + doubt wishing her home. Then Bill stood up and began to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Chairman, I hain't been called on for any remarks—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” yelled his friends from the dark corner. “Hear! hear!” + </p> + <p> + “An' I didn't feel as if this war hardly my game, though The Pilot ain't + mean about invitin' a feller on Sunday afternoons. But them as runs the + shop don't seem to want us fellers round too much.” + </p> + <p> + Robbie was gazing keenly at Bill, and here shook his head, muttering + angrily: “Hoots, nonsense! ye're welcome eneuch.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” went on Bill, slowly, “I guess I've been on the wrong track. I've + been a-cherishin' the opinion” [“Hear! hear!” yelled his admirers], + “cherishin' the opinion,” repeated Bill, “that these fellers,” pointing to + Robbie, “was stuck on religion, which I ain't much myself, and reely + consarned about the blocking ov the devil, which The Pilot says can't be + did without a regular Gospel factory. O' course, it tain't any biznis ov + mine, but if us fellers was reely only sot on anything condoocin',” + [“Hear! hear!” yelled Hi, in ecstasy], “condoocin',” repeated Bill slowly + and with relish, “to the good ov the Order” (Bill was a brotherhood man), + “I b'lieve I know whar five hundred dollars mebbe cud per'aps be got.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet your sox,” yelled the strange voice, in chorus with other shouts + of approval. + </p> + <p> + “O' course, I ain't no bettin' man,” went on Bill, insinuatingly, “as a + regular thing, but I'd gamble a few jist here on this pint; if the boys + was stuck on anythin' costin' about seven hundred dollars, it seems to me + likely they'd git it in about two days, per'aps.” + </p> + <p> + Here Robbie grunted out an “ay” of such fulness of contemptuous unbelief + that Bill paused, and, looking over Robbie's head, he drawled out, even + more slowly and mildly: + </p> + <p> + “I ain't much given to bettin', as I remarked before, but, if a man shakes + money at me on that proposition, I'd accommodate him to a limited extent.” + [“Hear! hear! Bully boy!” yelled Hi again, from the door.] “Not bein' too + bold, I cherish the opinion” [again yells of approval from the corner], + “that even for this here Gospel plant, seein' The Pilot's rather sot onto + it, I b'lieve the boys could find five hundred dollars inside ov a month, + if perhaps these fellers cud wiggle the rest out ov their pants.” + </p> + <p> + Then Robbie was in great wrath and, stung by the taunting, drawling voice + beyond all self-command, he broke out suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll no can mak that guid, I doot.” + </p> + <p> + “D'ye mean I ain't prepared to back it up?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Robbie, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't likely I'll be called on; I guess $500 is safe enough,” drawled + Bill, cunningly drawing him on. Then Robbie bit. + </p> + <p> + “Oo ay!” said he, in a voice of quiet contempt, “the twa hunner wull be + here and 'twull wait ye long eneuch, I'se warrant ye.” + </p> + <p> + Then Bill nailed him. + </p> + <p> + “I hain't got my card case on my person,” he said, with a slight grin. + </p> + <p> + “Left it on the pianner,” suggested Hi, who was in a state of great + hilarity at Bill's success in drawing the Scottie. + </p> + <p> + “But,” Bill proceeded, recovering himself, and with increasing suavity, + “if some gentleman would mark down the date of the almanac I cherish the + opinion” [cheers from the corner] “that in one month from to-day there + will be five hundred dollars lookin' round for two hundred on that there + desk mebbe, or p'raps you would incline to two fifty,” he drawled, in his + most winning tone to Robbie, who was growing more impatient every moment. + </p> + <p> + “Nae matter tae me. Ye're haverin' like a daft loon, ony way.” + </p> + <p> + “You will make a memento of this slight transaction, boys, and per'aps the + schoolmaster will write it down,” said Bill. + </p> + <p> + It was all carefully taken down, and amid much enthusiastic confusion the + ranchers and their gang carried Bill off to Old Latour's to “licker up,” + while Robbie, in deep wrath but in dour silence, went off through the dark + with his little wife following some paces behind him. His chief grievance, + however, was against the chairman for “allooin' sic a disorderly pack o' + loons tae disturb respectable fowk,” for he could not hide the fact that + he had been made to break through his accustomed defence line of immovable + silence. I suggested, conversing with him next day upon the matter, that + Bill was probably only chaffing. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Robbie, in great disgust, “the daft eejut, he wad mak a fule o' + onything or onybuddie.” + </p> + <p> + That was the sorest point with poor Robbie. Bill had not only cast doubts + upon his religious sincerity, which the little man could not endure, but + he had also held him up to the ridicule of the community, which was + painful to his pride. But when he understood, some days later, that Bill + was taking steps to back up his offer and had been heard to declare that + “he'd make them pious ducks take water if he had to put up a year's pay,” + Robbie went quietly to work to make good his part of the bargain. For his + Scotch pride would not suffer him to refuse a challenge from such a + quarter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <h3> + BILL'S PARTNER + </h3> + <p> + The next day everyone was talking of Bill's bluffing the church people, + and there was much quiet chuckling over the discomfiture of Robbie Muir + and his party. + </p> + <p> + The Pilot was equally distressed and bewildered, for Bill's conduct, so + very unusual, had only one explanation—the usual one for any folly + in that country. + </p> + <p> + “I wish he had waited till after the meeting to go to Latour's. He spoiled + the last chance I had. There's no use now,” he said, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “But he may do something,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fiddle!” said The Pilot, contemptuously. “He was only giving Muir 'a + song and dance,' as he would say. The whole thing is off.” + </p> + <p> + But when I told Gwen the story of the night's proceedings, she went into + raptures over Bill's grave speech and his success in drawing the canny + Scotchman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lovely! dear old Bill and his 'cherished opinion.' Isn't he just + lovely? Now he'll do something.” + </p> + <p> + “Who, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “No, that stupid Scottie.” This was her name for the immovable Robbie. + </p> + <p> + “Not he, I'm afraid. Of course Bill was just bluffing him. But it was good + sport.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lovely! I knew he'd do something.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Scottie?” I asked, for her pronouns were perplexing. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she cried, “Bill! He promised he would, you know,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “So you were at the bottom of it?” I said, amazed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” she kept crying, shrieking with laughter over Bill's + cherishing opinions and desires. “I shall be ill. Dear old Bill. He said + he'd 'try to get a move on to him.'” + </p> + <p> + Before I left that day, Bill himself came to the Old Timer's ranch, + inquiring in a casual way “if the 'boss' was in.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bill!” called out Gwen, “come in here at once; I want you.” + </p> + <p> + After some delay and some shuffling with hat and spurs, Bill lounged in + and set his lank form upon the extreme end of a bench at the door, trying + to look unconcerned as he remarked: “Gittin' cold. Shouldn't wonder if + we'd have a little snow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come here,” cried Gwen, impatiently, holding out her hand. “Come here + and shake hands.” + </p> + <p> + Bill hesitated, spat out into the other room his quid of tobacco, and + swayed awkwardly across the room toward the bed, and, taking Gwen's hand, + he shook it up and down, and hurriedly said: + </p> + <p> + “Fine day, ma'am; hope I see you quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “No; you don't,” cried Gwen, laughing immoderately, but keeping hold of + Bill's hand, to his great confusion. “I'm not well a bit, but I'm a great + deal better since hearing of your meeting, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + To this Bill made no reply, being entirely engrossed in getting his hard, + bony, brown hand out of the grasp of the white, clinging fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bill,” went on Gwen, “it was delightful! How did you do it?” + </p> + <p> + But Bill, who had by this time got back to his seat at the door, pretended + ignorance of any achievement calling for remark. He “hadn't done nothin' + more out ov the way than usual.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't talk nonsense!” cried Gwen, impatiently. “Tell me how you got + Scottie to lay you two hundred and fifty dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that!” said Bill, in great surprise; “that ain't nuthin' much. + Scottie riz slick enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you get him?” persisted Gwen. “Tell me, Bill,” she added, in + her most coaxing voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Bill, “it was easy as rollin' off a log. I made the remark as + how the boys ginerally put up for what they wanted without no fuss, and + that if they was sot on havin' a Gospel shack I cherished the opinion”—here + Gwen went off into a smothered shriek, which made Bill pause and look at + her in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “I cherished the opinion,” drawled on Bill, while Gwen stuck her + handkerchief into her mouth, “that mebbe they'd put up for it the seven + hundred dollars, and, even as it was, seein' as The Pilot appeared to be + sot on to it, if them fellers would find two hundred and fifty I cher—” + another shriek from Gwen cut him suddenly short. + </p> + <p> + “It's the rheumaticks, mebbe,” said Bill, anxiously. “Terrible bad weather + for 'em. I get 'em myself.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Gwen, wiping away her tears and subduing her laughter. “Go + on, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no more,” said Bill. “He bit, and the master here put it + down.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's here right enough,” I said, “but I don't suppose you mean to + follow it up, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't, eh? Well, I am not responsible for your supposin', but them + that is familiar with Bronco Bill generally expects him to back up his + undertakin's.” + </p> + <p> + “But how in the world can you get five hundred dollars from the cowboys + for a church?” + </p> + <p> + “I hain't done the arithmetic yet, but it's safe enough. You see, it ain't + the church altogether, it's the reputation of the boys.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll help, Bill,” said Gwen. + </p> + <p> + Bill nodded his head slowly and said: “Proud to have you,” trying hard to + look enthusiastic. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think I can,” said Gwen. Bill protested against such an + imputation. “But I can. I'll get daddy and The Duke, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Good line!” said Bill, slapping his knee. + </p> + <p> + “And I'll give all my money, too, but it isn't very much,” she added, + sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Much!” said Bill, “if the rest of the fellows play up to that lead there + won't be any trouble about that five hundred.” + </p> + <p> + Gwen was silent for some time, then said with an air of resolve: + </p> + <p> + “I'll give my pinto!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” I exclaimed, while Bill declared “there warn't no call.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'll give the Pinto!” said Gwen, decidedly. “I'll not need him any + more,” her lips quivered, and Bill coughed and spat into the next room, + “and besides, I want to give something I like. And Bill will sell him for + me!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Bill, slowly, “now come to think, it'll be purty hard to sell + that there pinto.” Gwen began to exclaim indignantly, and Bill hurried on + to say, “Not but what he ain't a good leetle horse for his weight, good + leetle horse, but for cattle—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Bill, there isn't a better cattle horse anywhere!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's so,” assented Bill. “That's so, if you've got the rider, but + put one of them rangers on to him and it wouldn't be no fair show.” Bill + was growing more convinced every moment that the pinto wouldn't sell to + any advantage. “Ye see,” he explained carefully and cunningly, “he ain't a + horse you could yank round and slam into a bunch of steers regardless.” + </p> + <p> + Gwen shuddered. “Oh, I wouldn't think of selling him to any of those + cowboys.” Bill crossed his legs and hitched round uncomfortably on his + bench. “I mean one of those rough fellows that don't know how to treat a + horse.” Bill nodded, looking relieved. “I thought that some one like you, + Bill, who knew how to handle a horse—” + </p> + <p> + Gwen paused, and then added: “I'll ask The Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “No call for that,” said Bill, hastily, “not but what The Dook ain't all + right as a jedge of a horse, but The Dook ain't got the connection, it + ain't his line.” Bill hesitated. “But, if you are real sot on to sellin' + that pinto, come to think I guess I could find a sale for him, though, of + course, I think perhaps the figger won't be high.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was arranged that the pinto should be sold and that Bill should + have the selling of it. + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of Gwen that she would not take farewell of the pony + on whose back she had spent so many hours of freedom and delight. When + once she gave him up she refused to allow her heart to cling to him any + more. + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic, too, of Bill that he led off the pinto after night + had fallen, so that “his pardner” might be saved the pain of the parting. + </p> + <p> + “This here's rather a new game for me, but when my pardner,” here he + jerked his head towards Gwen's window, “calls for trumps, I'm blanked if I + don't throw my highest, if it costs a leg.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <h3> + BILL'S FINANCING + </h3> + <p> + Bill's method of conducting the sale of the pinto was eminently successful + as a financial operation, but there are those in the Swan Creek country + who have never been able to fathom the mystery attaching to the affair. It + was at the fall round-up, the beef round-up, as it is called, which this + year ended at the Ashley Ranch. There were representatives from all the + ranches and some cattle-men from across the line. The hospitality of the + Ashley Ranch was up to its own lofty standard, and, after supper, the men + were in a state of high exhilaration. The Hon. Fred and his wife, Lady + Charlotte, gave themselves to the duties of their position as hosts for + the day with a heartiness and grace beyond praise. After supper the men + gathered round the big fire, which was piled up before the long, low shed, + which stood open in front. It was a scene of such wild and picturesque + interest as can only be witnessed in the western ranching country. About + the fire, most of them wearing “shaps” and all of them wide, hard-brimmed + cowboy hats, the men grouped themselves, some reclining upon skins thrown + upon the ground, some standing, some sitting, smoking, laughing, chatting, + all in highest spirits and humor. They had just got through with their + season of arduous and, at times, dangerous toil. Their minds were full of + their long, hard rides, their wild and varying experiences with mad cattle + and bucking broncos, their anxious watchings through hot nights, when a + breath of wind or a coyote's howl might set the herd off in a frantic + stampede, their wolf hunts and badger fights and all the marvellous + adventures that fill up a cowboy's summer. Now these were all behind them. + To-night they were free men and of independent means, for their season's + pay was in their pockets. The day's excitement, too, was still in their + blood, and they were ready for anything. + </p> + <p> + Bill, as king of the bronco-busters, moved about with the slow, careless + indifference of a man sure of his position and sure of his ability to + maintain it. + </p> + <p> + He spoke seldom and slowly, was not as ready-witted as his partner, Hi + Kendal, but in act he was swift and sure, and “in trouble” he could be + counted on. He was, as they said, “a white man; white to the back,” which + was understood to sum up the true cattle man's virtues. + </p> + <p> + “Hello, Bill,” said a friend, “where's Hi? Hain't seen him around!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, don't jest know. He was going to bring up my pinto.” + </p> + <p> + “Your pinto? What pinto's that? You hain't got no pinto!” + </p> + <p> + “Mebbe not,” said Bill, slowly, “but I had the idee before you spoke that + I had.” + </p> + <p> + “That so? Whar'd ye git him? Good for cattle?” The crowd began to gather. + </p> + <p> + Bill grew mysterious, and even more than usually reserved. + </p> + <p> + “Good fer cattle! Well, I ain't much on gamblin', but I've got a leetle in + my pants that says that there pinto kin outwork any blanked bronco in this + outfit, givin' him a fair show after the cattle.” + </p> + <p> + The men became interested. + </p> + <p> + “Whar was he raised?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno.” + </p> + <p> + “Whar'd ye git him? Across the line?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bill stoutly, “right in this here country. The Dook there knows + him.” + </p> + <p> + This at once raised the pinto several points. To be known, and, as Bill's + tone indicated, favorably known by The Duke, was a testimonial to which + any horse might aspire. + </p> + <p> + “Whar'd ye git him, Bill? Don't be so blanked oncommunicatin'!” said an + impatient voice. + </p> + <p> + Bill hesitated; then, with an apparent burst of confidence, he assumed his + frankest manner and voice, and told his tale. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, taking a fresh chew and offering his plug to his + neighbor, who passed it on after helping himself, “ye see, it was like + this. Ye know that little Meredith gel?” + </p> + <p> + Chorus of answers: “Yes! The red-headed one. I know! She's a daisy!—reg'lar + blizzard!—lightnin' conductor!” + </p> + <p> + Bill paused, stiffened himself a little, dropped his frank air and drawled + out in cool, hard tones: “I might remark that that young lady is, I might + persoom to say, a friend of mine, which I'm prepared to back up in my best + style, and if any blanked blanked son of a street sweeper has any remark + to make, here's his time now!” + </p> + <p> + In the pause that followed murmurs were heard extolling the many + excellences of the young lady in question, and Bill, appeased, yielded to + the requests for the continuance of his story, and, as he described Gwen + and her pinto and her work on the ranch, the men, many of whom had had + glimpses of her, gave emphatic approval in their own way. But as he told + of her rescue of Joe and of the sudden calamity that had befallen her a + great stillness fell upon the simple, tender-hearted fellows, and they + listened with their eyes shining in the firelight with growing intentness. + Then Bill spoke of The Pilot and how he stood by her and helped her and + cheered her till they began to swear he was “all right”; “and now,” + concluded Bill, “when The Pilot is in a hole she wants to help him out.” + </p> + <p> + “O' course,” said one. “Right enough. How's she going to work it?” said + another. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he's dead set on to buildin' a meetin'-house, and them fellows down + at the Creek that does the prayin' and such don't seem to back him up!” + </p> + <p> + “Whar's the kick, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they don't want to go down into their clothes and put up for it.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he only asked 'em for seven hundred the hull outfit, and would give + 'em two years, but they bucked—wouldn't look at it.” + </p> + <p> + [Chorus of expletives descriptive of the characters and personal + appearance and belongings of the congregation of Swan Creek.] + </p> + <p> + “Were you there, Bill? What did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Bill, modestly, “I didn't do much. Gave 'em a little bluff.” + </p> + <p> + “No! How? What? Go on, Bill.” + </p> + <p> + But Bill remained silent, till under strong pressure, and, as if making a + clean breast of everything, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, I jest told 'em that if you boys made such a fuss about anythin' + like they did about their Gospel outfit, an' I ain't sayin' anythin' agin + it, you'd put up seven hundred without turnin' a hair.” + </p> + <p> + “You're the stuff, Bill! Good man! You're talkin' now! What did they say + to that, eh, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Bill, slowly, “they CALLED me!” + </p> + <p> + “No! That so? An' what did you do, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Gave 'em a dead straight bluff!” + </p> + <p> + [Yells of enthusiastic approval.] + </p> + <p> + “Did they take you, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon they did. The master, here, put it down.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon I read the terms of Bill's bluff. + </p> + <p> + There was a chorus of very hearty approvals of Bill's course in “not + taking any water” from that variously characterized “outfit.” But the + responsibility of the situation began to dawn upon them when some one + asked: + </p> + <p> + “How are you going about it, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” drawled Bill, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, “there's that + pinto.” + </p> + <p> + “Pinto be blanked!” said young Hill. “Say, boys, is that little girl going + to lose that one pony of hers to help out her friend The Pilot? Good + fellow, too, he is! We know he's the right sort.” + </p> + <p> + [Chorus of, “Not by a long sight; not much; we'll put up the stuff! + Pinto!”] + </p> + <p> + “Then,” went on Bill, even more slowly, “there's The Pilot; he's going for + to ante up a month's pay; 'taint much, o' course—twenty-eight a + month and grub himself. He might make it two,” he added, thoughtfully. But + Bill's proposal was scorned with contemptuous groans. “Twenty-eight a + month and grub himself o' course ain't much for a man to save money out ov + to eddicate himself.” Bill continued, as if thinking aloud, “O' course + he's got his mother at home, but she can't make much more than her own + livin', but she might help him some.” + </p> + <p> + This was altogether too much for the crowd. They consigned Bill and his + plans to unutterable depths of woe. + </p> + <p> + “O' course,” Bill explained, “it's jest as you boys feel about it. Mebbe I + was, bein' hot, a little swift in givin' 'em the bluff.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, you wasn't! We'll see you out! That's the talk! There's between + twenty and thirty of us here.” + </p> + <p> + “I should be glad to contribute thirty or forty if need be,” said The + Duke, who was standing not far off, “to assist in the building of a + church. It would be a good thing, and I think the parson should be + encouraged. He's the right sort.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll cover your thirty,” said young Hill; and so it went from one to + another in tens and fifteens and twenties, till within half an hour I had + entered three hundred and fifty dollars in my book, with Ashley yet to + hear from, which meant fifty more. It was Bill's hour of triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Boys,” he said, with solemn emphasis, “ye're all white. But that leetle + pale-faced gel, that's what I'm thinkin' on. Won't she open them big eyes + ov hers! I cherish the opinion that this'll tickle her some.” + </p> + <p> + The men were greatly pleased with Bill and even more pleased with + themselves. Bill's picture of the “leetle gel” and her pathetically tragic + lot had gone right to their hearts and, with men of that stamp, it was one + of their few luxuries to yield to their generous impulses. The most of + them had few opportunities of lavishing love and sympathy upon worthy + objects and, when the opportunity came, all that was best in them clamored + for expression. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <h3> + HOW THE PINTO SOLD + </h3> + <p> + The glow of virtuous feeling following the performance of their generous + act prepared the men for a keener enjoyment than usual of a night's sport. + They had just begun to dispose themselves in groups about the fire for + poker and other games when Hi rode up into the light and with him a + stranger on Gwen's beautiful pinto pony. + </p> + <p> + Hi was evidently half drunk and, as he swung himself of his bronco, he + saluted the company with a wave of the hand and hoped he saw them + “kickin'.” + </p> + <p> + Bill, looking curiously at Hi, went up to the pinto and, taking him by the + head, led him up into the light, saying: + </p> + <p> + “See here, boys, there's that pinto of mine I was telling you about; no + flies on him, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Hold on there! Excuse me!” said the stranger, “this here hoss belongs to + me, if paid-down money means anything in this country.” + </p> + <p> + “The country's all right,” said Bill in an ominously quiet voice, “but + this here pinto's another transaction, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + “The hoss is mine, I say, and what's more, I'm goin' to hold him,” said + the stranger in a loud voice. + </p> + <p> + The men began to crowd around with faces growing hard. It was dangerous in + that country to play fast and loose with horses. + </p> + <p> + “Look a-hyar, mates,” said the stranger, with a Yankee drawl, “I ain't no + hoss thief, and if I hain't bought this hoss reg'lar and paid down good + money then it ain't mine—if I have it is. That's fair, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + At this Hi pulled himself together, and in a half-drunken tone declared + that the stranger was all right, and that he had bought the horse fair and + square, and “there's your dust,” said Hi, handing a roll to Bill. But with + a quick movement Bill caught the stranger by the leg, and, before a word + could be said, he was lying flat on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “You git off that pony,” said Bill, “till this thing is settled.” + </p> + <p> + There was something so terrible in Bill's manner that the man contented + himself with blustering and swearing, while Bill, turning to Hi, said: + </p> + <p> + “Did you sell this pinto to him?” + </p> + <p> + Hi was able to acknowledge that, being offered a good price, and knowing + that his partner was always ready for a deal, he had transferred the pinto + to the stranger for forty dollars. + </p> + <p> + Bill was in distress, deep and poignant. “'Taint the horse, but the leetle + gel,” he explained; but his partner's bargain was his, and wrathful as he + was, he refused to attempt to break the bargain. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Hon. Fred, noting the unusual excitement about the + fire, came up, followed at a little distance by his wife and The Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he'll sell,” he suggested. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bill sullenly, “he's a mean cuss.” + </p> + <p> + “I know him,” said the Hon. Fred, “let me try him.” But the stranger + declared the pinto suited him down to the ground and he wouldn't take + twice his money for him. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he protested, “that there's what I call an unusual hoss, and down + in Montana for a lady he'd fetch up to a hundred and fifty dollars.” In + vain they haggled and bargained; the man was immovable. Eighty dollars he + wouldn't look at, a hundred hardly made him hesitate. At this point Lady + Charlotte came down into the light and stood by her husband, who explained + the circumstances to her. She had already heard Bill's description of + Gwen's accident and of her part in the church-building schemes. There was + silence for a few moments as she stood looking at the beautiful pony. + </p> + <p> + “What a shame the poor child should have to part with the dear little + creature!” she said in a low tone to her husband. Then, turning to the + stranger, she said in clear, sweet tones: + </p> + <p> + “What do you ask for him?” He hesitated and then said, lifting his hat + awkwardly in salute: “I was just remarking how that pinto would fetch one + hundred and fifty dollars down into Montana. But seein' as a lady is + enquirin', I'll put him down to one hundred and twenty-five.” + </p> + <p> + “Too much,” she said promptly, “far too much, is it not, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” drawled Bill, “if 'twere a fellar as was used to ladies he'd offer + you the pinto, but he's too pizen mean even to come down to the even + hundred.” + </p> + <p> + The Yankee took him up quickly. “Wall, if I were so blanked—pardon, + madam”—taking off his hat, “used to ladies as some folks would like + to think themselves, I'd buy that there pinto and make a present of it to + this here lady as stands before me.” Bill twisted uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “But I ain't goin' to be mean; I'll put that pinto in for the even money + for the lady if any man cares to put up the stuff.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear,” said the Hon. Fred with a bow, “we cannot well let that + gage lie.” She turned and smiled at him and the pinto was transferred to + the Ashley stables, to Bill's outspoken delight, who declared he “couldn't + have faced the music if that there pinto had gone across the line.” I + confess, however, I was somewhat surprised at the ease with which Hi + escaped his wrath, and my surprise was in no way lessened when I saw, + later in the evening, the two partners with the stranger taking a quiet + drink out of the same bottle with evident mutual admiration and delight. + </p> + <p> + “You're an A1 corker, you are! I'll be blanked if you ain't a bird—a + singin' bird—a reg'lar canary,” I heard Hi say to Bill. + </p> + <p> + But Bill's only reply was a long, slow wink which passed into a frown as + he caught my eye. My suspicion was aroused that the sale of the pinto + might bear investigation, and this suspicion was deepened when Gwen next + week gave me a rapturous account of how splendidly Bill had disposed of + the pinto, showing me bills for one hundred and fifty dollars! To my look + of amazement, Gwen replied: + </p> + <p> + “You see, he must have got them bidding against each other, and besides, + Bill says pintos are going up.” + </p> + <p> + Light began to dawn upon me, but I only answered that I knew they had + risen very considerably in value within a month. The extra fifty was + Bill's. + </p> + <p> + I was not present to witness the finishing of Bill's bluff, but was told + that when Bill made his way through the crowded aisle and laid his five + hundred and fifty dollars on the schoolhouse desk the look of disgust, + surprise and finally of pleasure on Robbie's face, was worth a hundred + more. But Robbie was ready and put down his two hundred with the single + remark: + </p> + <p> + “Ay! ye're no as daft as ye look,” mid roars of laughter from all. + </p> + <p> + Then The Pilot, with eyes and face shining, rose and thanked them all; but + when he told of how the little girl in her lonely shack in the hills + thought so much of the church that she gave up for it her beloved pony, + her one possession, the light from his eyes glowed in the eyes of all. + </p> + <p> + But the men from the ranches who could understand the full meaning of her + sacrifice and who also could realize the full measure of her calamity, + were stirred to their hearts' depths, so that when Bill remarked in a very + distinct undertone, “I cherish the opinion that this here Gospel shop + wouldn't be materializin' into its present shape but for that leetle gel,” + there rose growls of approval in a variety of tones and expletives that + left no doubt that his opinion was that of all. + </p> + <p> + But though The Pilot never could quite get at the true inwardness of + Bill's measures and methods, and was doubtless all the more comfortable in + mind for that, he had no doubt that while Gwen's influence was the moving + spring of action, Bill's bluff had a good deal to do with the + “materializin'” of the first church in Swan Creek, and in this conviction, + I share. + </p> + <p> + Whether the Hon. Fred ever understood the peculiar style of Bill's + financing, I do not quite know. But if he ever did come to know, he was + far too much of a man to make a fuss. Besides, I fancy the smile on his + lady's face was worth some large amount to him. At least, so the look of + proud and fond love in his eyes seemed to say as he turned away with her + from the fire the night of the pinto's sale. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE LADY CHARLOTTE + </h3> + <p> + The night of the pinto's sale was a night momentous to Gwen, for then it + was that the Lady Charlotte's interest in her began. Momentous, too, to + the Lady Charlotte, for it was that night that brought The Pilot into her + life. + </p> + <p> + I had turned back to the fire around which the men had fallen into groups + prepared to have an hour's solid delight, for the scene was full of wild + and picturesque beauty to me, when The Duke came and touched me on the + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Charlotte would like to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “She wants to hear about this affair of Bill's.” + </p> + <p> + We went through the kitchen into the large dining-room, at one end of + which was a stone chimney and fireplace. Lady Charlotte had declared that + she did not much care what kind of a house the Hon. Fred would build for + her, but that she must have a fireplace. + </p> + <p> + She was very beautiful—tall, slight and graceful in every line. + There was a reserve and a grand air in her bearing that put people in awe + of her. This awe I shared; but as I entered the room she welcomed me with + such kindly grace that I felt quite at ease in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Come and sit by me,” she said, drawing an armchair into the circle about + the fire. “I want you to tell us all about a great many things.” + </p> + <p> + “You see what you're in for, Connor,” said her husband. “It is a serious + business when my lady takes one in hand.” + </p> + <p> + “As he knows to his cost,” she said, smiling and shaking her head at her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “So I can testify,” put in The Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I can't do anything with you,” she replied, turning to him. + </p> + <p> + “Your most abject slave,” he replied with a profound bow. + </p> + <p> + “If you only were,” smiling at him—a little sadly, I thought—“I'd + keep you out of all sorts of mischief.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite true, Duke,” said her husband, “just look at me.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke gazed at him a moment or two. “Wonderful!” he murmured, “what a + deliverance!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” broke in Lady Charlotte. “You are turning my mind away from my + purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible, do you think?” said The Duke to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the very least,” he replied, “if my experience goes for anything.” + </p> + <p> + But Lady Charlotte turned her back upon them and said to me: + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me first about Bill's encounter with that funny little + Scotchman.” + </p> + <p> + Then I told her the story of Bill's bluff in my best style, imitating, as + I have some small skill in doing, the manner and speech of the various + actors in the scene. She was greatly amused and interested. + </p> + <p> + “And Bill has really got his share ready,” she cried. “It is very clever + of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, “but Bill is only the very humble instrument, the moving + spirit is behind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you mean the little girl that owns the pony,” she said. “That's + another thing you must tell me about.” + </p> + <p> + “The Duke knows more than I,” I replied, shifting the burden to him; “my + acquaintance is only of yesterday; his is lifelong.” + </p> + <p> + “Why have you never told me of her?” she demanded, turning to the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't I told you of the little Meredith girl? Surely I have,” said The + Duke, hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you know quite well you have not, and that means you are deeply + interested. Oh, I know you well,” she said, severely. + </p> + <p> + “He is the most secretive man,” she went on to me, “shamefully and + ungratefully reserved.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke smiled; then said, lazily: “Why, she's just a child. Why should + you be interested in her? No one was,” he added sadly, “till misfortune + distinguished her.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes grew soft, and her gay manner changed, and she said to The Duke + gently: “Tell me of her now.” + </p> + <p> + It was evidently an effort, but he began his story of Gwen from the time + he saw her first, years ago, playing in and out of her father's rambling + shack, shy and wild as a young fox. As he went on with his tale, his voice + dropped into a low, musical tone, and he seemed as if dreaming aloud. + Unconsciously he put into the tale much of himself, revealing how great an + influence the little child had had upon him, and how empty of love his + life had been in this lonely land. Lady Charlotte listened with face + intent upon him, and even her bluff husband was conscious that something + more than usual was happening. He had never heard The Duke break through + his proud reserve before. + </p> + <p> + But when The Duke told the story of Gwen's awful fall, which he did with + great graphic power, a little red spot burned upon the Lady Charlotte's + pale cheek, and, as The Duke finished his tale with the words, “It was her + last ride,” she covered her face with her hands and cried: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Duke, it is horrible to think of! But what splendid courage!” + </p> + <p> + “Great stuff! eh, Duke?” cried the Hon. Fred, kicking a burning log + vigorously. + </p> + <p> + But The Duke made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “How is she now, Duke?” said Lady Charlotte. The Duke looked up as from a + dream. “Bright as the morning,” he said. Then, in reply to Lady + Charlotte's look of wonder, he added: + </p> + <p> + “The Pilot did it. Connor will tell you. I don't understand it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I, either. But I can tell you only what I saw and heard,” I + answered. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” said Lady Charlotte very gently. + </p> + <p> + Then I told her how, one by one, we had failed to help her, and how The + Pilot had ridden up that morning through the canyon, and how he had + brought the first light and peace to her by his marvellous pictures of the + flowers and ferns and trees and all the wonderful mysteries of that + wonderful canyon. + </p> + <p> + “But that wasn't all,” said the Duke quickly, as I stopped. + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said slowly, “that was NOT all by a long way; but the rest I don't + understand. That's The Pilot's secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what he did,” said Lady Charlotte, softly, once more. “I want to + know.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I can,” I replied. “He simply read out of the Scriptures to + her and talked.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte looked disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite enough for Gwen,” said The Duke confidently, “for there she + lies, often suffering, always longing for the hills and the free air, but + with her face radiant as the flowers of the beloved canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “I must see her,” said Lady Charlotte, “and that wonderful Pilot.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be disappointed in him,” said The Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I've see him and heard him, but I don't know him,” she replied. + “There must be something in him that one does not see at first.” + </p> + <p> + “So I have discovered,” said The Duke, and with that the subject was + dropped, but not before the Lady Charlotte made me promise to take her to + Gwen, The Duke being strangely unwilling to do this for her. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be disappointed,” he said. “She is only a simple little child.” + </p> + <p> + But Lady Charlotte thought differently, and, having made up her mind upon + the matter, there was nothing for it, as her husband said, but “for all + hands to surrender and the sooner the better.” + </p> + <p> + And so the Lady Charlotte had her way, which, as it turned out, was much + the wisest and best. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <h3> + THROUGH GWEN'S WINDOW + </h3> + <p> + When I told The Pilot of Lady Charlotte's purpose to visit Gwen, he was + not too well pleased. + </p> + <p> + “What does she want with Gwen?” he said impatiently. “She will just put + notions into her head and make the child discontented.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should she?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “She won't mean to, but she belongs to another world, and Gwen cannot talk + to her without getting glimpses of a life that will make her long for what + she can never have,” said The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “But suppose it is not idle curiosity in Lady Charlotte,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “I don't say it is quite that,” he answered, “but these people love a + sensation.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you know Lady Charlotte,” I replied. “I hardly think from + her tone the other night that she is a sensation hunter.” + </p> + <p> + “At any rate,” he answered, decidedly, “she is not to worry poor Gwen.” + </p> + <p> + I was a little surprised at his attitude, and felt that he was unfair to + Lady Charlotte, but I forbore to argue with him on the matter. He could + not bear to think of any person or thing threatening the peace of his + beloved Gwen. + </p> + <p> + The very first Saturday after my promise was given we were surprised to + see Lady Charlotte ride up to the door of our shack in the early morning. + </p> + <p> + “You see, I am not going to let you off,” she said, as I greeted her. “And + the day is so very fine for a ride.” + </p> + <p> + I hastened to apologize for not going to her, and then to get out of my + difficulty, rather meanly turned toward The Pilot, and said: + </p> + <p> + “The Pilot doesn't approve of our visit.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not, may I ask?” said Lady Charlotte, lifting her eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + The Pilot's face burned, partly with wrath at me, and partly with + embarrassment; for Lady Charlotte had put on her grand air. But he stood + to his guns. + </p> + <p> + “I was saying, Lady Charlotte,” he said, looking straight into her eyes, + “that you and Gwen have little in common—and—and—” he + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Little in common!” said Lady Charlotte quietly. “She has suffered + greatly.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, wondering at her tone, “she has suffered greatly.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” continued Lady Charlotte, “she is bright as the morning, The Duke + says.” There was a look of pain in her face. + </p> + <p> + The Pilot's face lit up, and he came nearer and laid his hand caressingly + upon her beautiful horse. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thank God!” he said quickly, “bright as the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “How can that be?” she asked, looking down into his face. “Perhaps she + would tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Charlotte,” said The Pilot with a sudden flush, “I must ask your + pardon. I was wrong. I thought you—” he paused; “but go to Gwen, she + will tell you, and you will do her good.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Lady Charlotte, putting out her hand, “and perhaps you + will come and see me, too.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot promised and stood looking after us as we rode up the trail. + </p> + <p> + “There is something more in your Pilot than at first appears,” she said. + “The Duke was quite right.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a great man,” I said with enthusiasm; “tender as a woman and with + the heart of a hero.” + </p> + <p> + “You and Bill and The Duke seem to agree about him,” she said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Then I told her tales of The Pilot, and of his ways with the men, till her + blue eyes grew bright and her beautiful face lost its proud look. + </p> + <p> + “It is perfectly amazing,” I said, finishing my story, “how these + devil-may-care rough fellows respect him, and come to him in all sorts of + trouble. I can't understand it, and yet he is just a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not amazing,” said Lady Charlotte slowly. “I think I understand it. + He has a true man's heart; and holds a great purpose in it. I've seen men + like that. Not clergymen, I mean, but men with a great purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Then, after a moment's thought, she added: “But you ought to care for him + better. He does not look strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Strong!” I exclaimed quickly, with a queer feeling of resentment at my + heart. “He can do as much riding as any of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Still,” she replied, “there's something in his face that would make his + mother anxious.” In spite of my repudiation of her suggestion, I found + myself for the next few minutes thinking of how he would come exhausted + and faint from his long rides, and I resolved that he must have a rest and + change. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those early September days, the best of all in the western + country, when the light falls less fiercely through a soft haze that seems + to fill the air about you, and that grows into purple on the far hilltops. + By the time we reached the canyon the sun was riding high and pouring its + rays full into all the deep nooks where the shadows mostly lay. + </p> + <p> + There were no shadows to-day, except such as the trees cast upon the green + moss beds and the black rocks. The tops of the tall elms were sere and + rusty, but the leaves of the rugged oaks that fringed the canyon's lips + shone a rich and glossy brown. All down the sides the poplars and delicate + birches, pale yellow, but sometimes flushing into orange and red, stood + shimmering in the golden light, while here and there the broad-spreading, + feathery sumachs made great splashes of brilliant crimson upon the yellow + and gold. Down in the bottom stood the cedars and the balsams, still + green. We stood some moments silently gazing into this tangle of + interlacing boughs and shimmering leaves, all glowing in yellow light, + then Lady Charlotte broke the silence in tones soft and reverent as if she + stood in a great cathedral. + </p> + <p> + “And this is Gwen's canyon!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but she never sees it now,” I said, for I could never ride through + without thinking of the child to whose heart this was so dear, but whose + eyes never rested upon it. Lady Charlotte made no reply, and we took the + trail that wound down into this maze of mingling colors and lights and + shadows. Everywhere lay the fallen leaves, brown and yellow and gold;—everywhere + on our trail, on the green mosses and among the dead ferns. And as we + rode, leaves fluttered down from the trees above silently through the + tangled boughs, and lay with the others on moss and rock and beaten trail. + </p> + <p> + The flowers were all gone; but the Little Swan sang as ever its + many-voiced song, as it flowed in pools and eddies and cascades, with here + and there a golden leaf upon its black waters. Ah! how often in weary, + dusty days these sights and sounds and silences have come to me and + brought my heart rest! + </p> + <p> + As we began to climb up into the open, I glanced at my companion's face. + The canyon had done its work with her as with all who loved it. The touch + of pride that was the habit of her face was gone, and in its place rested + the earnest wonder of a little child, while in her eyes lay the canyon's + tender glow. And with this face she looked in upon Gwen. + </p> + <p> + And Gwen, who had been waiting for her, forgot all her nervous fear, and + with hands outstretched, cried out in welcome: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad! You've seen it and I know you love it! My canyon, you + know!” she went on, answering Lady Charlotte's mystified look. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear child,” said Lady Charlotte, bending over the pale face with + its halo of golden hair, “I love it.” But she could get no further, for + her eyes were full of tears. Gwen gazed up into the beautiful face, + wondering at her silence, and then said gently: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how it looks to-day! The Pilot always shows it to me. Do you + know,” she added, thoughtfully, “The Pilot looks like it himself. He makes + me think of it, and—and—” she went on shyly, “you do, too.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Lady Charlotte was kneeling by the couch, smoothing the + beautiful hair and gently touching the face so pale and lined with pain. + </p> + <p> + “That is a great honor, truly,” she said brightly through her tears—“to + be like your canyon and like your Pilot, too.” + </p> + <p> + Gwen nodded, but she was not to be denied. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how it looks to-day,” she said. “I want to see it. Oh, I want to + see it!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte was greatly moved by the yearning in the voice, but, + controlling herself, she said gaily: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can't show it to you as your Pilot can, but I'll tell you what I + saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Turn me where I can see,” said Gwen to me, and I wheeled her toward the + window and raised her up so that she could look down the trail toward the + canyon's mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, after the pain of the lifting had passed, “tell me, + please.” + </p> + <p> + Then Lady Charlotte set the canyon before her in rich and radiant + coloring, while Gwen listened, gazing down upon the trail to where the elm + tops could be seen, rusty and sere. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is lovely!” said Gwen, “and I see it so well. It is all there + before me when I look through my window.” + </p> + <p> + But Lady Charlotte looked at her, wondering to see her bright smile, and + at last she could not help the question: + </p> + <p> + “But don't you weary to see it with your own eyes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Gwen gently, “often I want and want it, oh, so much!” + </p> + <p> + “And then, Gwen, dear, how can you bear it?” Her voice was eager and + earnest. “Tell me, Gwen. I have heard all about your canyon flowers, but I + can't understand how the fretting and the pain went away.” + </p> + <p> + Gwen looked at her first in amazement, and then in dawning understanding. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a canyon, too?” she asked, gravely. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte paused a moment, then nodded. It did appear strange to me + that she should break down her proud reserve and open her heart to this + child. + </p> + <p> + “And there are no flowers, Gwen, not one,” she said rather bitterly, “nor + sun nor seeds nor soil, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if The Pilot were here, he would tell you.” + </p> + <p> + At this point, feeling that they would rather be alone, I excused myself + on the pretext of looking after the horses. + </p> + <p> + What they talked of during the next hour I never knew, but when I returned + to the room Lady Charlotte was reading slowly and with perplexed face to + Gwen out of her mother's Bible the words “for the suffering of death, + crowned with glory and honor.” + </p> + <p> + “You see even for Him, suffering,” Gwen said eagerly, “but I can't + explain. The Pilot will make it clear.” Then the talk ended. + </p> + <p> + We had lunch with Gwen—bannocks and fresh sweet milk and blueberries—and + after an hour of gay fun we came away. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte kissed her tenderly as she bade Gwen good-by. + </p> + <p> + “You must let me come again and sit at your window,” she said, smiling + down upon the wan face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I shall watch for you. How good that will be!” cried Gwen, + delightedly. “How many come to see me! You make five.” Then she added, + softly: “You will write your letter.” But Lady Charlotte shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I can't do that, I fear,” she said, “but I shall think of it.” + </p> + <p> + It was a bright face that looked out upon us through the open window as we + rode down the trail. Just before we took the dip into the canyon, I turned + to wave my hand. + </p> + <p> + “Gwen's friends always wave from here,” I said, wheeling my bronco. + </p> + <p> + Again and again Lady Charlotte waved her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “How beautiful, but how wonderful!” she said as if to herself. “Truly, HER + canyon is full of flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “It is quite beyond me,” I answered. “The Pilot may explain.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything your Pilot can't do?” said Lady Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “Try him,” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “I mean to,” she replied, “but I cannot bring anyone to my canyon, I + fear,” she added in an uncertain voice. + </p> + <p> + As I left her at her door she thanked me with courteous grace. + </p> + <p> + “You have done a great deal for me,” she said, giving me her hand. “It has + been a beautiful, a wonderful day.” + </p> + <p> + When I told the Pilot all the day's doings, he burst out: + </p> + <p> + “What a stupid and self-righteous fool I have been! I never thought there + could be any canyon in her life. How short our sight is!” and all that + night I could get almost no words from him. + </p> + <p> + That was the first of many visits to Gwen. Not a week passed but Lady + Charlotte took the trail to the Meredith ranch and spent an hour at Gwen's + window. Often The Pilot found her there. But though they were always + pleasant hours to him, he would come home in great trouble about Lady + Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “She is perfectly charming and doing Gwen no end of good, but she is proud + as an archangel. Has had an awful break with her family at home, and it is + spoiling her life. She told me so much, but she will allow no one to touch + the affair.” + </p> + <p> + But one day we met her riding toward the village. As we drew near, she + drew up her horse and held up a letter. + </p> + <p> + “Home!” she said. “I wrote it to-day, and I must get it off immediately.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot understood her at once, but he only said: + </p> + <p> + “Good!” but with such emphasis that we both laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I hope so,” she said with the red beginning to show in her cheek. “I + have dropped some seed into my canyon.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I see the flowers beginning to spring,” said The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head doubtfully and replied: + </p> + <p> + “I shall ride up and sit with Gwen at her window.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” replied The Pilot, “the light is good there. Wonderful things are to + be seen through Gwen's window.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Lady Charlotte softly. “Dear Gwen!—but I fear it is + often made bright with tears.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke she wheeled her horse and cantered off, for her own tears + were not far away. I followed her in thought up the trail winding through + the round-topped hills and down through the golden lights of the canyon + and into Gwen's room. I could see the pale face, with its golden aureole, + light up and glow, as they sat before the window while Lady Charlotte + would tell her how Gwen's Canyon looked to-day and how in her own bleak + canyon there was the sign of flowers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <h3> + HOW BILL FAVORED “HOME-GROWN INDUSTRIES” + </h3> + <p> + The building of the Swan Creek Church made a sensation in the country, and + all the more that Bronco Bill was in command. + </p> + <p> + “When I put up money I stay with the game,” he announced; and stay he did, + to the great benefit of the work and to the delight of The Pilot, who was + wearing his life out in trying to do several men's work. It was Bill that + organized the gangs for hauling stone for the foundation and logs for the + walls. It was Bill that assigned the various jobs to those volunteering + service. To Robbie Muir and two stalwart Glengarry men from the Ottawa + lumber region, who knew all about the broadaxe, he gave the hewing down of + the logs that formed the walls. And when they had done, Bill declared they + were “better 'an a sawmill.” It was Bill, too, that did the financing, and + his passage with Williams, the storekeeper from “the other side” who dealt + in lumber and building material, was such as established forever Bill's + reputation in finance. + </p> + <p> + With The Pilot's plans in his hands he went to Williams, seizing a time + when the store was full of men after their mail matter. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think ov them plans?” he asked innocently. + </p> + <p> + Williams was voluble with opinions and criticism and suggestions, all of + which were gratefully, even humbly received. + </p> + <p> + “Kind ov hard to figger out jest how much lumber 'll go into the shack,” + said Bill; “ye see the logs makes a difference.” + </p> + <p> + To Williams the thing was simplicity itself, and, after some figuring, he + handed Bill a complete statement of the amount of lumber of all kinds that + would be required. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what would that there come to?” + </p> + <p> + Williams named his figure, and then Bill entered upon negotiations. + </p> + <p> + “I aint no man to beat down prices. No, sir, I say give a man his figger. + Of course, this here aint my funeral; besides, bein' a Gospel shop, the + price naterally would be different.” To this the boys all assented and + Williams looked uncomfortable. + </p> + <p> + “In fact,” and Bill adopted his public tone to Hi's admiration and joy, + “this here's a public institooshun” (this was Williams' own thunder), + “condoocin' to the good of the community” (Hi slapped his thigh and + squirted half way across the store to signify his entire approval), “and I + cherish the opinion”—(delighted chuckle from Hi)—“that public + men are interested in this concern.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so! Right you are!” chorused the boys gravely. + </p> + <p> + Williams agreed, but declared he had thought of all this in making his + calculation. But seeing it was a church, and the first church and their + own church, he would make a cut, which he did after more figuring. Bill + gravely took the slip of paper and put it into his pocket without a word. + By the end of the week, having in the meantime ridden into town and + interviewed the dealers there, Bill sauntered into the store and took up + his position remote from Williams. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be wanting that sheeting, won't you, next week, Bill?” said + Williams. + </p> + <p> + “What sheetin' 's that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, for the church. Aint the logs up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's so. I was just goin' to see the boys here about gettin' it + hauled,” said Bill. + </p> + <p> + “Hauled!” said Williams, in amazed indignation. “Aint you goin' to stick + to your deal?” + </p> + <p> + “I generally make it my custom to stick to my deals,” said Bill, looking + straight at Williams. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about your deal with me last Monday night?” said Williams, + angrily. + </p> + <p> + “Let's see. Last Monday night,” said Bill, apparently thinking back; + “can't say as I remember any pertickler deal. Any ov you fellers + remember?” + </p> + <p> + No one could recall any deal. + </p> + <p> + “You don't remember getting any paper from me, I suppose?” said Williams, + sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Paper! Why, I believe I've got that there paper onto my person at this + present moment,” said Bill, diving into his pocket and drawing out + Williams' estimate. He spent a few moments in careful scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no deal onto this as I can see,” said Bill, gravely passing + the paper to the boys, who each scrutinized it and passed it on with a + shake of the head or a remark as to the absence of any sign of a deal. + Williams changed his tone. For his part, he was indifferent in the matter. + </p> + <p> + Then Bill made him an offer. + </p> + <p> + “Ov course, I believe in supportin' home-grown industries, and if you can + touch my figger I'd be uncommonly glad to give you the contract.” + </p> + <p> + But Bill's figure, which was quite fifty per cent. lower than Williams' + best offer, was rejected as quite impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Thought I'd make you the offer,” said Bill, carelessly, “seein' as you're + institootin' the trade and the boys here 'll all be buildin' more or less, + and I believe in standin' up for local trades and manufactures.” There + were nods of approval on all sides, and Williams was forced to accept, for + Bill began arranging with the Hill brothers and Hi to make an early start + on Monday. It was a great triumph, but Bill displayed no sign of elation; + he was rather full of sympathy for Williams, and eager to help on the + lumber business as a local “institooshun.” + </p> + <p> + Second in command in the church building enterprise stood Lady Charlotte, + and under her labored the Hon. Fred, The Duke, and, indeed, all the + company of the Noble Seven. Her home became the centre of a new type of + social life. With exquisite tact, and much was needed for this kind of + work, she drew the bachelors from their lonely shacks and from their wild + carousals, and gave them a taste of the joys of a pure home-life, the + first they had had since leaving the old homes years ago. And then she + made them work for the church with such zeal and diligence that her + husband and The Duke declared that ranching had become quite an incidental + interest since the church-building had begun. But The Pilot went about + with a radiant look on his pale face, while Bill gave it forth as his + opinion, “though she was a leetle high in the action, she could hit an + uncommon gait.” + </p> + <p> + With such energy did Bill push the work of construction that by the first + of December the church stood roofed, sheeted, floored and ready for + windows, doors and ceiling, so that The Pilot began to hope that he should + see the desire of his heart fulfilled—the church of Swan Creek open + for divine service on Christmas Day. + </p> + <p> + During these weeks there was more than church-building going on, for while + the days were given to the shaping of logs, and the driving of nails and + the planing of boards, the long winter evenings were spent in talk around + the fire in my shack, where The Pilot for some months past had made his + home and where Bill, since the beginning of the church building, had come + “to camp.” Those were great nights for The Pilot and Bill, and, indeed, + for me, too, and the other boys, who, after a day's work on the church, + were always brought in by Bill or The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + Great nights for us all they were. After bacon and beans and bannocks, and + occasionally potatoes, and rarely a pudding, with coffee, rich and + steaming, to wash all down, pipes would follow, and then yarns of + adventures, possible and impossible, all exciting and wonderful, and all + received with the greatest credulity. + </p> + <p> + If, however, the powers of belief were put to too great a strain by a tale + of more than ordinary marvel, Bill would follow with one of such utter + impossibility that the company would feel that the limit had been reached, + and the yarns would cease. But after the first week most of the time was + given to The Pilot, who would read to us of the deeds of the mighty men of + old, who had made and wrecked empires. + </p> + <p> + What happy nights they were to those cowboys, who had been cast up like + driftwood upon this strange and lonely shore! Some of them had never known + what it was to have a thought beyond the work and sport of the day. And + the world into which The Pilot was ushering them was all new and wonderful + to them. Happy nights, without a care, but that The Pilot would not get + the ghastly look out of his face, and laughed at the idea of going away + till the church was built. And, indeed, we would all have sorely missed + him, and so he stayed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. + </h2> + <h3> + HOW BILL HIT THE TRAIL + </h3> + <p> + When “the crowd” was with us The Pilot read us all sorts of tales of + adventures in all lands by heroes of all ages, but when we three sat + together by our fire The Pilot would always read us tales of the heroes of + sacred story, and these delighted Bill more than those of any of the + ancient empires of the past. He had his favorites. Abraham, Moses, Joshua, + Gideon, never failed to arouse his admiration. But Jacob was to him always + “a mean cuss,” and David he could not appreciate. Most of all he admired + Moses and the Apostle Paul, whom he called “that little chap.” But, when + the reading was about the One Great Man that moved majestic amid the + gospel stories, Bill made no comments; He was too high for approval. + </p> + <p> + By and by Bill began to tell these tales to the boys, and one night, when + a quiet mood had fallen upon the company, Bill broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Pilot, where was it that the little chap got mixed up into that + riot?” + </p> + <p> + “Riot!” said The Pilot. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you remember when he stood off the whole gang from the stairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, at Jerusalem!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's the spot. Perhaps you would read that to the boys. Good yarn! + Little chap, you know, stood up and told 'em they were all sorts of + blanked thieves and cut-throats, and stood 'em off. Played it alone, too.” + </p> + <p> + Most of the boys failed to recognize the story in its new dress. There was + much interest. + </p> + <p> + “Who was the duck? Who was the gang? What was the row about?” + </p> + <p> + “The Pilot here'll tell you. If you'd kind o' give 'em a lead before you + begin, they'd catch on to the yarn better.” This last to The Pilot, who + was preparing to read. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was at Jerusalem,” began The Pilot, when Bill interrupted: + </p> + <p> + “If I might remark, perhaps it might help the boys on to the trail mebbe, + if you'd tell 'em how the little chap struck his new gait.” So he + designated the Apostle's conversion. + </p> + <p> + Then The Pilot introduced the Apostle with some formality to the company, + describing with such vivid touches his life and early training, his sudden + wrench from all he held dear, under the stress of a new conviction, his + magnificent enthusiasm and courage, his tenderness and patience, that I + was surprised to find myself regarding him as a sort of hero, and the boys + were all ready to back him against any odds. As The Pilot read the story + of the Arrest at Jerusalem, stopping now and then to picture the scene, we + saw it all and were in the thick of it. The raging crowd hustling and + beating the life out of the brave little man, the sudden thrust of the + disciplined Roman guard through the mass, the rescue, the pause on the + stairway, the calm face of the little hero beckoning for a hearing, the + quieting of the frantic, frothing mob, the fearless speech—all + passed before us. The boys were thrilled. + </p> + <p> + “Good stuff, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't he a daisy?” + </p> + <p> + “Daisy! He's a whole sunflower patch!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” drawled Bill, highly appreciating their marks of approval. “That's + what I call a partickler fine character of a man. There ain't no manner of + insecks on to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet!” said Hi. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” broke in one of the boys, who was just emerging from the + tenderfoot stage, “o' course that's in the Bible, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot assented. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how do you know it's true?” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot was proceeding to elaborate his argument when Bill cut in + somewhat more abruptly than was his wont. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, young feller!” Bill's voice was in the tone of command. The + man looked as he was bid. “How do you know anything's true? How do you + know The Pilot here's true when he speaks? Can't you tell by the feel? You + know by the sound of his voice, don't you?” Bill paused and the young + fellow agreed readily. + </p> + <p> + “Well how do you know a blanked son of a she jackass when you see him?” + Again Bill paused. There was no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Bill, resuming his deliberate drawl. “I'll give you the + information without extra charge. It's by the sound he makes when he opens + his blanked jaw.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” went on the young skeptic, nettled at the laugh that went round, + “that don't prove anything. You know,” turning to The Pilot, “that there + are heaps of people who don't believe the Bible.” + </p> + <p> + The Pilot nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Some of the smartest, best-educated men are agnostics,” proceeded the + young man, warming to his theme, and failing to notice the stiffening of + Bill's lank figure. “I don't know but what I am one myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That so?” said Bill, with sudden interest. + </p> + <p> + “I guess so,” was the modest reply. + </p> + <p> + “Got it bad?” went on Bill, with a note of anxiety in his tone. + </p> + <p> + But the young man turned to The Pilot and tried to open a fresh argument. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever he's got,” said Bill to the others, in a mild voice, “it's + spoilin' his manners.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” went on Bill, meditatively, after the slight laugh had died, “it's + ruinin' to the judgment. He don't seem to know when he interferes with the + game. Pity, too.” + </p> + <p> + Still the argument went on. + </p> + <p> + “Seems as if he ought to take somethin',” said Bill, in a voice + suspiciously mild. “What would you suggest?” + </p> + <p> + “A walk, mebbe!” said Hi, in delighted expectation. + </p> + <p> + “I hold the opinion that you have mentioned an uncommonly vallable remedy, + better'n Pain Killer almost.” + </p> + <p> + Bill rose languidly. + </p> + <p> + “I say,” he drawled, tapping the young fellow, “it appears to me a little + walk would perhaps be good, mebbe.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, wait till I get my cap,” was the unsuspecting reply. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think perhaps you won't need it, mebbe. I cherish the opinion + you'll, perhaps, be warm enough.” Bill's voice had unconsciously passed + into a sterner tone. Hi was on his feet and at the door. + </p> + <p> + “This here interview is private AND confidential,” said Bill to his + partner. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Hi, opening the door. At this the young fellow, who was a + strapping six-footer, but soft and flabby, drew back and refused to go. He + was too late. Bill's grip was on his collar and out they went into the + snow, and behind them Hi closed the door. In vain the young fellow + struggled to wrench himself free from the hands that had him by the + shoulder and the back of the neck. I took it all in from the window. He + might have been a boy for all the effect his plungings had upon the long, + sinewy arms that gripped him so fiercely. After a minute's furious + struggle the young fellow stood quiet, when Bill suddenly shifted his grip + from the shoulder to the seat of his buckskin trousers. Then began a + series of evolutions before the house—up and down, forward and back, + which the unfortunate victim, with hands wildly clutching at empty air, + was quite powerless to resist till he was brought up panting and gasping, + subdued, to a standstill. + </p> + <p> + “I'll larn you agnostics and several other kinds of ticks,” said Bill, in + a terrible voice, his drawl lengthening perceptibly. “Come round here, + will you, and shove your blanked second-handed trash down our throats?” + Bill paused to get words; then, bursting out in rising wrath: + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no sootable words for sich conduct. By the livin' Jeminy—” + He suddenly swung his prisoner off his feet, lifted him bodily, and held + him over his head at arm's length. “I've a notion to—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't! don't! for Heaven's sake!” cried the struggling wretch, “I'll stop + it! I will!” + </p> + <p> + Bill at once lowered him and set him on his feet. + </p> + <p> + “All right! Shake!” he said, holding out his hand, which the other took + with caution. + </p> + <p> + It was a remarkably sudden conversion and lasting in its effects. There + was no more agnosticism in the little group that gathered around The Pilot + for the nightly reading. + </p> + <p> + The interest in the reading kept growing night by night. + </p> + <p> + “Seems as if The Pilot was gittin' in his work,” said Bill to me; and + looking at the grave, eager faces, I agreed. He was getting in his work + with Bill, too; though perhaps Bill did not know it. I remember one night, + when the others had gone, The Pilot was reading to us the Parable of the + Talents, Bill was particularly interested in the servant who failed in his + duty. + </p> + <p> + “Ornery cuss, eh?” he remarked; “and gall, too, eh? Served him blamed well + right, in my opinion!” + </p> + <p> + But when the practical bearing of the parable became clear to him, after + long silence, he said, slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Well, that there seems to indicate that it's about time for me to get a + rustle on.” Then, after another silence, he said, hesitatingly, “This here + church-buildin' business now, do you think that'll perhaps count, mebbe? I + guess not, eh? 'Tain't much, o' course, anyway.” Poor Bill, he was like a + child, and The Pilot handled him with a mother's touch. + </p> + <p> + “What are you best at, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + “Bronco-bustin' and cattle,” said Bill, wonderingly; “that's my line.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bill, my line is preaching just now, and piloting, you know.” The + Pilot's smile was like a sunbeam on a rainy day, for there were tears in + his eyes and voice. “And we have just got to be faithful. You see what he + says: 'Well done, good and FAITHFUL servant. Thou hast been FAITHFUL.'” + </p> + <p> + Bill was puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Faithful!” he repeated. “Does that mean with the cattle, perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's just it, Bill, and with everything else that comes your way.” + </p> + <p> + And Bill never forgot that lesson, for I heard him, with a kind of quiet + enthusiasm, giving it to Hi as a great find. “Now, I call that a fair + deal,” he said to his friend; “gives every man a show. No cards up the + sleeve.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” was Hi's thoughtful reply; “distributes the trumps.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow Bill came to be regarded as an authority upon questions of + religion and morals. No one ever accused him of “gettin' religion.” He + went about his work in his slow, quiet way, but he was always sharing his + discoveries with “the boys.” And if anyone puzzled him with subtleties he + never rested till he had him face to face with The Pilot. And so it came + that these two drew to each other with more than brotherly affection. When + Bill got into difficulty with problems that have vexed the souls of men + far wiser than he, The Pilot would either disentangle the knots or would + turn his mind to the verities that stood out sure and clear, and Bill + would be content. + </p> + <p> + “That's good enough for me,” he would say, and his heart would be at rest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <h3> + HOW THE SWAN CREEK CHURCH WAS OPENED + </h3> + <p> + When, near the end of the year, The Pilot fell sick, Bill nursed him like + a mother and sent him off for a rest and change to Gwen, forbidding him to + return till the church was finished and visiting him twice a week. The + love between the two was most beautiful, and, when I find my heart grow + hard and unbelieving in men and things, I let my mind wander back to a + scene that I came upon in front of Gwen's house. These two were standing + alone in the clear moonlight, Bill with his hand upon The Pilot's + shoulder, and The Pilot with his arm around Bill's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old Bill,” The Pilot was saying, “dear old Bill,” and the voice was + breaking into a sob. And Bill, standing stiff and straight, looked up at + the stars, coughed and swallowed hard for some moments, and said, in a + queer, croaky voice: + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn't wonder if a Chinook would blow up.” + </p> + <p> + “Chinook?” laughed The Pilot, with a catch in his voice. “You dear old + humbug,” and he stood watching till the lank form swayed down into the + canyon. + </p> + <p> + The day of the church opening came, as all days, however long waited for, + will come—a bright, beautiful Christmas Day. The air was still and + full of frosty light, as if arrested by a voice of command, waiting the + word to move. The hills lay under their dazzling coverlets, asleep. Back + of all, the great peaks lifted majestic heads out of the dark forests and + gazed with calm, steadfast faces upon the white, sunlit world. To-day, as + the light filled up the cracks that wrinkled their hard faces, they seemed + to smile, as if the Christmas joy had somehow moved something in their + old, stony hearts. + </p> + <p> + The people were all there—farmers, ranchers, cowboys, wives and + children—all happy, all proud of their new church, and now all + expectant, waiting for The Pilot and the Old Timer, who were to drive down + if The Pilot was fit and were to bring Gwen if the day was fine. As the + time passed on, Bill, as master of ceremonies, began to grow uneasy. Then + Indian Joe appeared and handed a note to Bill. He read it, grew gray in + the face and passed it to me. Looking, I saw in poor, wavering lines the + words, “Dear Bill. Go on with the opening. Sing the Psalm, you know the + one, and say a prayer, and oh, come to me quick, Bill. Your Pilot.” + </p> + <p> + Bill gradually pulled himself together, announced in a strange voice, “The + Pilot can't come,” handed me the Psalm, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Make them sing.” + </p> + <p> + It was that grand Psalm for all hill peoples, “I to the hills will lift + mine eyes,” and with wondering faces they sang the strong, steadying + words. After the Psalm was over the people sat and waited, Bill looked at + the Hon. Fred Ashley, then at Robbie Muir, then said to me in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Kin you make a prayer?” + </p> + <p> + I shook my head, ashamed as I did so of my cowardice. + </p> + <p> + Again Bill paused, then said: + </p> + <p> + “The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer. Kin anyone make one?” + </p> + <p> + Again dead, solemn silence. + </p> + <p> + Then Hi, who was near the back, said, coming to his partner's help: + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you trying, yourself, Bill?” + </p> + <p> + The red began to come up in Bill's white face. + </p> + <p> + “'Taint in my line. But The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer, and I'm + going to stay with the game.” Then, leaning on the pulpit, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Let's pray,” and began: + </p> + <p> + “God Almighty, I ain't no good at this, and perhaps you'll understand if I + don't put things right.” Then a pause followed, during which I heard some + of the women beginning to sob. + </p> + <p> + “What I want to say,” Bill went on, “is, we're mighty glad about this + church, which we know it's you and The Pilot that's worked it. And we're + all glad to chip in.” + </p> + <p> + Then again he paused, and, looking up, I saw his hard, gray face working + and two tears stealing down his cheeks. Then he started again: + </p> + <p> + “But about The Pilot—I don't want to persoom—but if you don't + mind, we'd like to have him stay—in fact, don't see how we kin do + without him—look at all the boys here; he's just getting his work in + and is bringin' 'em right along, and, God Almighty, if you take him away + it might be a good thing for himself, but for us—oh, God,” the voice + quivered and was silent “Amen.” + </p> + <p> + Then someone, I think it must have been the Lady Charlotte, began: “Our + Father,” and all joined that could join, to the end. For a few moments + Bill stood up, looking at them silently. Then, as if remembering his duty, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “This here church is open. Excuse me.” + </p> + <p> + He stood at the door, gave a word of direction to Hi, who had followed him + out, and leaping on his bronco shook him out into a hard gallop. + </p> + <p> + The Swan Creek Church was opened. The form of service may not have been + correct, but, if great love counts for anything and appealing faith, then + all that was necessary was done. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <h3> + THE PILOT'S LAST PORT + </h3> + <p> + In the old times a funeral was regarded in the Swan Creek country as a + kind of solemn festivity. In those days, for the most part, men died in + their boots and were planted with much honor and loyal libation. There was + often neither shroud nor coffin, and in the Far West many a poor fellow + lies as he fell, wrapped in his own or his comrade's blanket. + </p> + <p> + It was the manager of the X L Company's ranch that introduced crape. The + occasion was the funeral of one of the ranch cowboys, killed by his + bronco, but when the pall-bearers and mourners appeared with bands and + streamers of crape, this was voted by the majority as “too gay.” That + circumstance alone was sufficient to render that funeral famous, but it + was remembered, too, as having shocked the proprieties in another and more + serious manner. No one would be so narrow-minded as to object to the + custom of the return procession falling into a series of horse-races of + the wildest description, and ending up at Latour's in a general riot. But + to race with the corpse was considered bad form. The “corpse-driver,” as + he was called, could hardly be blamed on this occasion. His acknowledged + place was at the head of the procession, and it was a point of honor that + that place should be retained. The fault clearly lay with the driver of + the X L ranch sleigh, containing the mourners (an innovation, by the way), + who felt aggrieved that Hi Kendal, driving the Ashley team with the + pall-bearers (another innovation), should be given the place of honor next + the corpse. The X L driver wanted to know what, in the name of all that + was black and blue, the Ashley Ranch had to do with the funeral? Whose was + that corpse, anyway? Didn't it belong to the X L ranch? Hi, on the other + hand, contended that the corpse was in charge of the pall-bearers. “It was + their duty to see it right to the grave, and if they were not on hand, how + was it goin' to get there? They didn't expect it would git up and get + there by itself, did they? Hi didn't want no blanked mourners foolin' + round that corp till it was properly planted; after that they might git in + their work.” But the X L driver could not accept this view, and at the + first opportunity slipped past Hi and his pall-bearers and took the place + next the sleigh that carried the coffin. It is possible that Hi might have + borne with this affront and loss of position with even mind, but the + jeering remarks of the mourners as they slid past triumphantly could not + be endured, and the next moment the three teams were abreast in a race as + for dear life. The corpse-driver, having the advantage of the beaten + track, soon left the other two behind running neck and neck for second + place, which was captured finally by Hi and maintained to the grave side, + in spite of many attempts on the part of the X L's. The whole proceeding, + however, was considered quite improper, and at Latour's, that night, after + full and bibulous discussion, it was agreed that the corpse-driver fairly + distributed the blame. “For his part,” he said, “he knew he hadn't ought + to make no corp git any such move on, but he wasn't goin' to see that + there corp take second place at his own funeral. Not if he could help it. + And as for the others, he thought that the pall-bearers had a blanked + sight more to do with the plantin' than them giddy mourners.” + </p> + <p> + But when they gathered at the Meredith ranch to carry out The Pilot to his + grave it was felt that the Foothill Country was called to a new + experience. They were all there. The men from the Porcupine and from + beyond the Fort, the Police with the Inspector in command, all the farmers + for twenty miles around, and of course all the ranchers and cowboys of the + Swan Creek country. There was no effort at repression. There was no need, + for in the cowboys, for the first time in their experience, there was no + heart for fun. And as they rode up and hitched their horses to the fence, + or drove their sleighs into the yard and took off the bells, there was no + loud-voiced salutation, no guying nor chaffing, but with silent nod they + took their places in the crowd about the door or passed into the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + The men from the Porcupine could not quite understand the gloomy silence. + It was something unprecedented in a country where men laughed all care to + scorn and saluted death with a nod. But they were quick to read signs, and + with characteristic courtesy they fell in with the mood they could not + understand. There is no man living so quick to feel your mood, and so + ready to adapt himself to it, as is the true Westerner. + </p> + <p> + This was the day of the cowboy's grief. To the rest of the community The + Pilot was preacher; to them he was comrade and friend. They had been slow + to admit him to their confidence, but steadily he had won his place with + them, till within the last few months they had come to count him as of + themselves. He had ridden the range with them; he had slept in their + shacks and cooked his meals on their tin stoves; and, besides, he was + Bill's chum. That alone was enough to give him a right to all they owned. + He was theirs, and they were only beginning to take full pride in him when + he passed out from them, leaving an emptiness in their life new and + unexplained. No man in that country had ever shown concern for them, nor + had it occurred to them that any man could, till The Pilot came. It took + them long to believe that the interest he showed in them was genuine and + not simply professional. Then, too, from a preacher they had expected + chiefly pity, warning, rebuke. The Pilot astonished them by giving them + respect, admiration, and open-hearted affection. It was months before they + could get over their suspicion that he was humbugging them. When once they + did, they gave him back without knowing it all the trust and love of their + big, generous hearts. He had made this world new to some of them, and to + all had given glimpses of the next. It was no wonder that they stood in + dumb groups about the house where the man, who had done all this for them + and had been all this to them lay dead. + </p> + <p> + There was no demonstration of grief. The Duke was in command, and his + quiet, firm voice, giving directions, helped all to self-control. The + women who were gathered in the middle room were weeping quietly. Bill was + nowhere to be seen, but near the inner door sat Gwen in her chair, with + Lady Charlotte beside her, holding her hand. Her face, worn with long + suffering, was pale, but serene as the morning sky, and with not a trace + of tears. As my eye caught hers, she beckoned me to her. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Bill?” she said. “Bring him in.” + </p> + <p> + I found him at the back of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you coming in, Bill?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No; I guess there's plenty without me,” he said, in his slow way. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better come in; the service is going to begin,” I urged. + </p> + <p> + “Don't seem as if I cared for to hear anythin' much. I ain't much used to + preachin', anyway,” said Bill, with careful indifference, but he added to + himself, “except his, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Bill,” I urged. “It will look queer, you know,” but Bill + replied: + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll not bother,” adding, after a pause: “You see, there's them + wimmin turnin' on the waterworks, and like as not they'd swamp me sure.” + </p> + <p> + “That's so,” said Hi, who was standing near, in silent sympathy with his + friend's grief. + </p> + <p> + I reported to Gwen, who answered in her old imperious way, “Tell him I + want him.” I took Bill the message. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you say so before?” he said, and, starting up, he passed into + the house and took up his position behind Gwen's chair. Opposite, and + leaning against the door, stood The Duke, with a look of quiet earnestness + on his handsome face. At his side stood the Hon. Fred Ashley, and behind + him the Old Timer, looking bewildered and woe-stricken. The Pilot had + filled a large place in the old man's life. The rest of the men stood + about the room and filled the kitchen beyond, all quiet, solemn, sad. + </p> + <p> + In Gwen's room, the one farthest in, lay The Pilot, stately and beautiful + under the magic touch of death. And as I stood and looked down upon the + quiet face I saw why Gwen shed no tear, but carried a look of serene + triumph. She had read the face aright. The lines of weariness that had + been growing so painfully clear the last few months were smoothed out, the + look of care was gone, and in place of weariness and care, was the proud + smile of victory and peace. He had met his foe and was surprised to find + his terror gone. + </p> + <p> + The service was beautiful in its simplicity. The minister, The Pilot's + chief, had come out from town to take charge. He was rather a little man, + but sturdy and well set. His face was burnt and seared with the suns and + frosts he had braved for years. Still in the prime of his manhood, his + hair and beard were grizzled and his face deep-lined, for the toils and + cares of a pioneer missionary's life are neither few nor light. But out of + his kindly blue eye looked the heart of a hero, and as he spoke to us we + felt the prophet's touch and caught a gleam of the prophet's fire. + </p> + <p> + “I have fought the fight,” he read. The ring in his voice lifted up all + our heads, and, as he pictured to us the life of that battered hero who + had written these words, I saw Bill's eyes begin to gleam and his lank + figure straighten out its lazy angles. Then he turned the leaves quickly + and read again, “Let not your heart be troubled . . . in my father's house + are many mansions.” His voice took a lower, sweeter tone; he looked over + our heads, and for a few moments spoke of the eternal hope. Then he came + back to us, and, looking round into the faces turned so eagerly to him, + talked to us of The Pilot—how at the first he had sent him to us + with fear and trembling—he was so young—but how he had come to + trust in him and to rejoice in his work, and to hope much from his life. + Now it was all over; but he felt sure his young friend had not given his + life in vain. He paused as he looked from one to the other, till his eyes + rested on Gwen's face. I was startled, as I believe he was, too, at the + smile that parted her lips, so evidently saying: “Yes, but how much better + I know than you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he went on, after a pause, answering her smile, “you all know + better than I that his work among you will not pass away with his removal, + but endure while you live,” and the smile on Gwen's face grew brighter. + “And now you must not grudge him his reward and his rest . . . and his + home.” And Bill, nodding his head slowly, said under his breath, “That's + so.” + </p> + <p> + Then they sang that hymn of the dawning glory of Immanuel's land,—Lady + Charlotte playing the organ and The Duke leading with clear, steady voice + verse after verse. When they came to the last verse the minister made a + sign and, while they waited, he read the words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I've wrestled on towards heaven + 'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide.” + </pre> + <p> + And so on to that last victorious cry,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I hail the glory dawning + In Immanuel's Land.” + </pre> + <p> + For a moment it looked as if the singing could not go on, for tears were + on the minister's face and the women were beginning to sob, but The Duke's + clear, quiet voice caught up the song and steadied them all to the end. + </p> + <p> + After the prayer they all went in and looked at The Pilot's face and + passed out, leaving behind only those that knew him best. The Duke and the + Hon. Fred stood looking down upon the quiet face. + </p> + <p> + “The country has lost a good man, Duke,” said the Hon. Fred. The Duke + bowed silently. Then Lady Charlotte came and gazed a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Pilot,” she whispered, her tears falling fast. “Dear, dear Pilot! + Thank God for you! You have done much for me.” Then she stooped and kissed + him on his cold lips and on his forehead. + </p> + <p> + Then Gwen seemed to suddenly waken as from a dream. She turned and, + looking up in a frightened way, said to Bill hurriedly: + </p> + <p> + “I want to see him again. Carry me!” + </p> + <p> + And Bill gathered her up in his arms and took her in. As they looked down + upon the dead face with its look of proud peace and touched with the + stateliness of death, Gwen's fear passed away. But when The Duke made to + cover the face, Gwen drew a sharp breath and, clinging to Bill, said, with + a sudden gasp: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bill, I can't bear it alone. I'm afraid alone.” + </p> + <p> + She was thinking of the long, weary days of pain before her that she must + face now without The Pilot's touch and smile and voice. + </p> + <p> + “Me, too,” said Bill, thinking of the days before him. He could have said + nothing better. Gwen looked in his face a moment, then said: + </p> + <p> + “We'll help each other,” and Bill, swallowing hard, could only nod his + head in reply. Once more they looked upon The Pilot, leaning down and + lingering over him, and then Gwen said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Take me away, Bill,” and Bill carried her into the outer room. Turning + back I caught a look on The Duke's face so full of grief that I could not + help showing my amazement. He noticed and said: + </p> + <p> + “The best man I ever knew, Connor. He has done something for me too. . . . + I'd give the world to die like that.” + </p> + <p> + Then he covered the face. + </p> + <p> + We sat Gwen's window, Bill, with Gwen in his arms, and I watching. Down + the sloping, snow-covered hill wound the procession of sleighs and + horsemen, without sound of voice or jingle of bell till, one by one, they + passed out of our sight and dipped down into the canyon. But we knew every + step of the winding trail and followed them in fancy through that fairy + scene of mystic wonderland. We knew how the great elms and the poplars and + the birches clinging to the snowy sides interlaced their bare boughs into + a network of bewildering complexity, and how the cedars and balsams and + spruces stood in the bottom, their dark boughs weighted down with heavy + white mantles of snow, and how every stump and fallen log and rotting + stick was made a thing of beauty by the snow that had fallen so gently on + them in that quiet spot. And we could see the rocks of the canyon sides + gleam out black from under overhanging snow-banks, and we could hear the + song of the Swan in its many tones, now under an icy sheet, cooing + comfortably, and then bursting out into sunlit laughter and leaping into a + foaming pool, to glide away smoothly murmuring its delight to the white + banks that curved to kiss the dark water as it fled. And where the flowers + had been, the violets and the wind-flowers and the clematis and the + columbine and all the ferns and flowering shrubs, there lay the snow. + Everywhere the snow, pure, white, and myriad-gemmed, but every flake a + flower's shroud. + </p> + <p> + Out where the canyon opened to the sunny, sloping prairie, there they + would lay The Pilot to sleep, within touch of the canyon he loved, with + all its sleeping things. And there he lies to this time. But Spring has + come many times to the canyon since that winter day, and has called to the + sleeping flowers, summoning them forth in merry troops, and ever more and + more till the canyon ripples with them. And lives are like flowers. In + dying they abide not alone, but sow themselves and bloom again with each + returning spring, and ever more and more. + </p> + <p> + For often during the following years, as here and there I came upon one of + those that companied with us in those Foothill days, I would catch a + glimpse in word and deed and look of him we called, first in jest, but + afterwards with true and tender feeling we were not ashamed to own, our + Sky Pilot. + </p> + +<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY PILOT ***</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 3248-h.htm or 3248-h.zip</div> +<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/4/3248/</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16523a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #3248 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3248) diff --git a/old/3248.txt b/old/3248.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..00b35d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3248.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5842 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sky Pilot, by Ralph Connor + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sky Pilot + +Author: Ralph Connor + +Release Date: May 30, 2006 [EBook #3248] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY PILOT *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +THE SKY PILOT + +A TALE OF THE FOOTHILLS + + +By Ralph Connor + + + + +PREFACE + + +The measure of a man's power to help his brother is the measure of the +love in the heart of him and of the faith he has that at last the good +will win. With this love that seeks not its own and this faith that +grips the heart of things, he goes out to meet many fortunes, but not +that of defeat. + +This story is of the people of the Foothill Country; of those men of +adventurous spirit, who left homes of comfort, often of luxury, because +of the stirring in them to be and to do some worthy thing; and of those +others who, outcast from their kind, sought to find in these valleys, +remote and lonely, a spot where they could forget and be forgotten. + +The waving skyline of the Foothills was the boundary of their lookout +upon life. Here they dwelt safe from the scanning of the world, freed +from all restraints of social law, denied the gentler influences of home +and the sweet uplift of a good woman's face. What wonder if, with the +new freedom beating in their hearts and ears, some rode fierce and hard +the wild trail to the cut-bank of destruction! + +The story is, too, of how a man with vision beyond the waving skyline +came to them with firm purpose to play the brother's part, and by sheer +love of them and by faith in them, win them to believe that life is +priceless, and that it is good to be a man. + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I. The Foothills Country + +II. The Company of the Noble Seven + +III. The Coming of the Pilot + +IV. The Pilot's Measure + +V. First Blood + +VI. His Second Wind + +VII. The Last of the Permit Sundays + +VIII. The Pilot's Grip + +IX. Gwen + +X. Gwen's First Prayers + +XI. Gwen's Challenge + +XII. Gwen's Canyon + +XIII. The Canyon Flowers + +XIV. Bill's Bluff + +XV. Bill's Partner + +XVI. Bill's Financing + +XVII. How the Pinto Sold + +XVIII. The Lady Charlotte + +XIX. Through Gwen's Window + +XX. How Bill Favored "Home-Grown Industries" + +XXI. How Bill Hit the Trail + +XXII. How the Swan Creek Church was Opened + +XXIII. The Pilot's Last Port + + + + +THE SKY PILOT + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FOOTHILLS COUNTRY + + +Beyond the great prairies and in the shadow of the Rockies lie the +Foothills. For nine hundred miles the prairies spread themselves out in +vast level reaches, and then begin to climb over softly rounded mounds +that ever grow higher and sharper till, here and there, they break +into jagged points and at last rest upon the great bases of the mighty +mountains. These rounded hills that join the prairies to the mountains +form the Foothill Country. They extend for about a hundred miles only, +but no other hundred miles of the great West are so full of interest +and romance. The natural features of the country combine the beauties +of prairie and of mountain scenery. There are valleys so wide that the +farther side melts into the horizon, and uplands so vast as to suggest +the unbroken prairie. Nearer the mountains the valleys dip deep and ever +deeper till they narrow into canyons through which mountain torrents +pour their blue-gray waters from glaciers that lie glistening between +the white peaks far away. Here are the great ranges on which feed herds +of cattle and horses. Here are the homes of the ranchmen, in whose wild, +free, lonely existence there mingles much of the tragedy and comedy, the +humor and pathos, that go to make up the romance of life. Among them are +to be found the most enterprising, the most daring, of the peoples of +the old lands. The broken, the outcast, the disappointed, these too +have found their way to the ranches among the Foothills. A country it is +whose sunlit hills and shaded valleys reflect themselves in the lives +of its people; for nowhere are the contrasts of light and shade more +vividly seen than in the homes of the ranchmen of the Albertas. + +The experiences of my life have confirmed in me the orthodox conviction +that Providence sends his rain upon the evil as upon the good; else I +should never have set my eyes upon the Foothill country, nor touched its +strangely fascinating life, nor come to know and love the most striking +man of all that group of striking men of the Foothill country--the dear +old Pilot, as we came to call him long afterwards. My first year in +college closed in gloom. My guardian was in despair. From this distance +of years I pity him. Then I considered him unnecessarily concerned about +me--"a fussy old hen," as one of the boys suggested. The invitation from +Jack Dale, a distant cousin, to spend a summer with him on his ranch in +South Alberta came in the nick of time. I was wild to go. My guardian +hesitated long; but no other solution of the problem of my disposal +offering, he finally agreed that I could not well get into more trouble +by going than by staying. Hence it was that, in the early summer of +one of the eighties, I found myself attached to a Hudson's Bay Company +freight train, making our way from a little railway town in Montana +towards the Canadian boundary. Our train consisted of six wagons +and fourteen yoke of oxen, with three cayuses, in charge of a French +half-breed and his son, a lad of about sixteen. We made slow enough +progress, but every hour of the long day, from the dim, gray, misty +light of dawn to the soft glow of shadowy evening, was full of new +delights to me. On the evening of the third day we reached the Line +Stopping Place, where Jack Dale met us. I remember well how my heart +beat with admiration of the easy grace with which he sailed down upon +us in the loose-jointed cowboy style, swinging his own bronco and the +little cayuse he was leading for me into the circle of the wagons, +careless of ropes and freight and other impedimenta. He flung himself +off before his bronco had come to a stop, and gave me a grip that made +me sure of my welcome. It was years since he had seen a man from home, +and the eager joy in his eyes told of long days and nights of lonely +yearning for the old days and the old faces. I came to understand this +better after my two years' stay among these hills that have a strange +power on some days to waken in a man longings that make his heart grow +sick. When supper was over we gathered about the little fire, while Jack +and the half-breed smoked and talked. I lay on my back looking up at the +pale, steady stars in the deep blue of the cloudless sky, and listened +in fullness of contented delight to the chat between Jack and the +driver. Now and then I asked a question, but not too often. It is +a listening silence that draws tales from a western man, not vexing +questions. This much I had learned already from my three days' travel. +So I lay and listened, and the tales of that night are mingled with the +warm evening lights and the pale stars and the thoughts of home that +Jack's coming seemed to bring. + +Next morning before sun-up we had broken camp and were ready for our +fifty-mile ride. There was a slight drizzle of rain and, though rain and +shine were alike to him, Jack insisted that I should wear my mackintosh. +This garment was quite new and had a loose cape which rustled as I moved +toward my cayuse. He was an ugly-looking little animal, with more white +in his eye than I cared to see. Altogether, I did not draw toward him. +Nor did he to me, apparently. For as I took him by the bridle he snorted +and sidled about with great swiftness, and stood facing me with his feet +planted firmly in front of him as if prepared to reject overtures of +any kind soever. I tried to approach him with soothing words, but he +persistently backed away until we stood looking at each other at the +utmost distance of his outstretched neck and my outstretched arm. At +this point Jack came to my assistance, got the pony by the other side of +the bridle, and held him fast till I got into position to mount. Taking +a firm grip of the horn of the Mexican saddle, I threw my leg over his +back. The next instant I was flying over his head. My only emotion was +one of surprise, the thing was so unexpected. I had fancied myself a +fair rider, having had experience of farmers' colts of divers kinds, but +this was something quite new. The half-breed stood looking on, mildly +interested; Jack was smiling, but the boy was grinning with delight. + +"I'll take the little beast," said Jack. But the grinning boy braced me +up and I replied as carelessly as my shaking voice would allow: + +"Oh, I guess I'll manage him," and once more got into position. But no +sooner had I got into the saddle than the pony sprang straight up into +the air and lit with his back curved into a bow, his four legs gathered +together and so absolutely rigid that the shock made my teeth rattle. +It was my first experience of "bucking." Then the little brute went +seriously to work to get rid of the rustling, flapping thing on his +back. He would back steadily for some seconds, then, with two or three +forward plunges, he would stop as if shot and spring straight into the +upper air, lighting with back curved and legs rigid as iron. Then he +would walk on his hind legs for a few steps, then throw himself with +amazing rapidity to one side and again proceed to buck with vicious +diligence. + +"Stick to him!" yelled Jack, through his shouts of laughter. "You'll +make him sick before long." + +I remember thinking that unless his insides were somewhat more +delicately organized than his external appearance would lead one to +suppose the chances were that the little brute would be the last to +succumb to sickness. To make matters worse, a wilder jump than ordinary +threw my cape up over my head, so that I was in complete darkness. And +now he had me at his mercy, and he knew no pity. He kicked and plunged +and reared and bucked, now on his front legs, now on his hind legs, +often on his knees, while I, in the darkness, could only cling to +the horn of the saddle. At last, in one of the gleams of light that +penetrated the folds of my enveloping cape, I found that the horn had +slipped to his side, so the next time he came to his knees I threw +myself off. I am anxious to make this point clear, for, from the +expression of triumph on the face of the grinning boy, and his encomiums +of the pony, I gathered that he scored a win for the cayuse. Without +pause that little brute continued for some seconds to buck and plunge +even after my dismounting, as if he were some piece of mechanism that +must run down before it could stop. + +By this time I was sick enough and badly shaken in my nerve, but the +triumphant shouts and laughter of the boy and the complacent smiles on +the faces of Jack and the half-breed stirred my wrath. I tore off the +cape and, having got the saddle put right, seized Jack's riding whip +and, disregarding his remonstrances, sprang on my steed once more, and +before he could make up his mind as to his line of action plied him so +vigorously with the rawhide that he set off over the prairie at full +gallop, and in a few minutes came round to the camp quite subdued, to +the boy's great disappointment and to my own great surprise. Jack +was highly pleased, and even the stolid face of the half-breed showed +satisfaction. + +"Don't think I put this up on you," Jack said. "It was that cape. He +ain't used to such frills. But it was a circus," he added, going off +into a fit of laughter, "worth five dollars any day." + +"You bet!" said the half-breed. "Dat's make pretty beeg fun, eh?" + +It seemed to me that it depended somewhat upon the point of view, but I +merely agreed with him, only too glad to be so well out of the fight. + +All day we followed the trail that wound along the shoulders of the +round-topped hills or down their long slopes into the wide, grassy +valleys. Here and there the valleys were cut through by coulees through +which ran swift, blue-gray rivers, clear and icy cold, while from the +hilltops we caught glimpses of little lakes covered with wild-fowl that +shrieked and squawked and splashed, careless of danger. Now and then we +saw what made a black spot against the green of the prairie, and Jack +told me it was a rancher's shack. How remote from the great world, and +how lonely it seemed!--this little black shack among these multitudinous +hills. + +I shall never forget the summer evening when Jack and I rode into +Swan Creek. I say into--but the village was almost entirely one of +imagination, in that it consisted of the Stopping Place, a long log +building, a story and a half high, with stables behind, and the store in +which the post-office was kept and over which the owner dwelt. But the +situation was one of great beauty. On one side the prairie rambled down +from the hills and then stretched away in tawny levels into the misty +purple at the horizon; on the other it clambered over the round, sunny +tops to the dim blue of the mountains beyond. + +In this world, where it is impossible to reach absolute values, we are +forced to hold things relatively, and in contrast with the long, +lonely miles of our ride during the day these two houses, with their +outbuildings, seemed a center of life. Some horses were tied to the rail +that ran along in front of the Stopping Place. + +"Hello!" said Jack, "I guess the Noble Seven are in town." + +"And who are they?" I asked. + +"Oh," he replied, with a shrug, "they are the elite Of Swan Creek; and +by Jove," he added, "this must be a Permit Night." + +"What does that mean?" I asked, as we rode up towards the tie rail. + +"Well," said Jack, in a low tone, for some men were standing about the +door, "you see, this is a prohibition country, but when one of the boys +feels as if he were going to have a spell of sickness he gets a permit +to bring in a few gallons for medicinal purposes; and of course, the +other boys being similarly exposed, he invites them to assist him in +taking preventive measures. And," added Jack, with a solemn wink, "it is +remarkable, in a healthy country like this, how many epidemics come near +ketching us." + +And with this mystifying explanation we joined the mysterious company of +the Noble Seven. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE COMPANY OF THE NOBLE SEVEN + + +As we were dismounting, the cries, "Hello, Jack!" "How do, Dale?" +"Hello, old Smoke!" in the heartiest of tones, made me see that my +cousin was a favorite with the men grouped about the door. Jack simply +nodded in reply and then presented me in due form. "My tenderfoot cousin +from the effete," he said, with a flourish. I was surprised at the grace +of the bows made me by these roughly-dressed, wild-looking fellows. I +might have been in a London drawing-room. I was put at my ease at once +by the kindliness of their greeting, for, upon Jack's introduction, +I was admitted at once into their circle, which, to a tenderfoot, was +usually closed. + +What a hardy-looking lot they were! Brown, spare, sinewy and hard as +nails, they appeared like soldiers back from a hard campaign. They moved +and spoke with an easy, careless air of almost lazy indifference, +but their eyes had a trick of looking straight out at you, cool and +fearless, and you felt they were fit and ready. + +That night I was initiated into the Company of the Noble Seven--but of +the ceremony I regret to say I retain but an indistinct memory; for they +drank as they rode, hard and long, and it was only Jack's care that got +me safely home that night. + +The Company of the Noble Seven was the dominant social force in the Swan +Creek country. Indeed, it was the only social force Swan Creek knew. +Originally consisting of seven young fellows of the best blood of +Britain, "banded together for purposes of mutual improvement and social +enjoyment," it had changed its character during the years, but not +its name. First, its membership was extended to include "approved +colonials," such as Jack Dale and "others of kindred spirit," under +which head, I suppose, the two cowboys from the Ashley Ranch, Hi Keadal +and "Bronco" Bill--no one knew and no one asked his other name--were +admitted. Then its purposes gradually limited themselves to those of a +social nature, chiefly in the line of poker-playing and whisky-drinking. +Well born and delicately bred in that atmosphere of culture mingled with +a sturdy common sense and a certain high chivalry which surrounds the +stately homes of Britain, these young lads, freed from the restraints +of custom and surrounding, soon shed all that was superficial in their +make-up and stood forth in the naked simplicity of their native manhood. +The West discovered and revealed the man in them, sometimes to their +honor, often to their shame. The Chief of the Company was the Hon. Fred +Ashley, of the Ashley Ranch, sometime of Ashley Court, England--a big, +good-natured man with a magnificent physique, a good income from home, +and a beautiful wife, the Lady Charlotte, daughter of a noble English +family. At the Ashley Ranch the traditions of Ashley Court were +preserved as far as possible. The Hon. Fred appeared at the wolf-hunts +in riding-breeches and top boots, with hunting crop and English saddle, +while in all the appointments of the house the customs of the English +home were observed. It was characteristic, however, of western life that +his two cowboys, Hi Kendal and Bronco Bill, felt themselves quite his +social equals, though in the presence of his beautiful, stately wife +they confessed that they "rather weakened." Ashley was a thoroughly good +fellow, well up to his work as a cattle-man, and too much of a gentleman +to feel, much less assert, any superiority of station. He had the +largest ranch in the country and was one of the few men making money. + +Ashley's chief friend, or, at least, most frequent companion, was a man +whom they called "The Duke." No one knew his name, but every one said +he was "the son of a lord," and certainly from his style and bearing +he might be the son of almost anything that was high enough in rank. He +drew "a remittance," but, as that was paid through Ashley, no one knew +whence it came nor how much it was. He was a perfect picture of a man, +and in all western virtues was easily first. He could rope a steer, +bunch cattle, play poker or drink whisky to the admiration of his +friends and the confusion of his foes, of whom he had a few; while as to +"bronco busting," the virtue par excellence of western cattle-men, even +Bronco Bill was heard to acknowledge that "he wasn't in it with the +Dook, for it was his opinion that he could ride anythin' that had legs +in under it, even if it was a blanked centipede." And this, coming from +one who made a profession of "bronco busting," was unquestionably high +praise. The Duke lived alone, except when he deigned to pay a visit +to some lonely rancher who, for the marvellous charm of his talk, was +delighted to have him as guest, even at the expense of the loss of a few +games at poker. He made a friend of no one, though some men could tell +of times when he stood between them and their last dollar, exacting only +the promise that no mention should be made of his deed. He had an easy, +lazy manner and a slow cynical smile that rarely left his face, and the +only sign of deepening passion in him was a little broadening of his +smile. Old Latour, who kept the Stopping Place, told me how once The +Duke had broken into a gentle laugh. A French half-breed freighter on +his way north had entered into a game of poker with The Duke, with the +result that his six months' pay stood in a little heap at his enemy's +left hand. The enraged freighter accused his smiling opponent of being a +cheat, and was proceeding to demolish him with one mighty blow. But +The Duke, still smiling, and without moving from his chair, caught the +descending fist, slowly crushed the fingers open, and steadily drew the +Frenchman to his knees, gripping him so cruelly in the meantime that he +was forced to cry aloud in agony for mercy. Then it was that The Duke +broke into a light laugh and, touching the kneeling Frenchman on his +cheek with his finger-tips, said: "Look here, my man, you shouldn't +play the game till you know how to do it and with whom you play." Then, +handing him back the money, he added: "I want money, but not yours." +Then, as he sat looking at the unfortunate wretch dividing his attention +between his money and his bleeding fingers, he once more broke into a +gentle laugh that was not good to hear. + +The Duke was by all odds the most striking figure in the Company of +the Noble Seven, and his word went farther than that of any other. +His shadow was Bruce, an Edinburgh University man, metaphysical, +argumentative, persistent, devoted to The Duke. Indeed, his chief +ambition was to attain to The Duke's high and lordly manner; but, +inasmuch as he was rather squat in figure and had an open, good-natured +face and a Scotch voice of the hard and rasping kind, his attempts at +imitation were not conspicuously successful. Every mail that reached +Swan Creek brought him a letter from home. At first, after I had got +to know him, he would give me now and then a letter to read, but as the +tone became more and more anxious he ceased to let me read them, and I +was glad enough of this. How he could read those letters and go the pace +of the Noble Seven I could not see. Poor Bruce! He had good impulses, a +generous heart, but the "Permit" nights and the hunts and the "roundups" +and the poker and all the wild excesses of the Company were more than he +could stand. + +Then there were the two Hill brothers, the younger, Bertie, a +fair-haired, bright-faced youngster, none too able to look after +himself, but much inclined to follies of all degrees and sorts. But +he was warm-hearted and devoted to his big brother, Humphrey, called +"Hump," who had taken to ranching mainly with the idea of looking after +his younger brother. And no easy matter that was, for every one liked +the lad and in consequence helped him down. + +In addition to these there were two others of the original seven, but by +force of circumstances they were prevented from any more than a nominal +connection with the Company. Blake, a typical wild Irishman, had joined +the police at the Fort, and Gifford had got married and, as Bill said, +"was roped tighter'n a steer." + +The Noble Company, with the cowboys that helped on the range and two or +three farmers that lived nearer the Fort, composed the settlers of the +Swan Creek country. A strange medley of people of all ranks and nations, +but while among them there were the evil-hearted and evil-living, still, +for the Noble Company I will say that never have I fallen in with men +braver, truer, or of warmer heart. Vices they had, all too apparent and +deadly, but they were due rather to the circumstances of their lives +than to the native tendencies of their hearts. Throughout that summer +and the winter following I lived among them, camping on the range with +them and sleeping in their shacks, bunching cattle in summer and hunting +wolves in winter, nor did I, for I was no wiser than they, refuse my +part on "Permit" nights; but through all not a man of them ever failed +to be true to his standard of honor in the duties of comradeship and +brotherhood. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE COMING OF THE PILOT + + +He was the first missionary ever seen in the country, and it was the Old +Timer who named him. The Old Timer's advent to the Foothill country +was prehistoric, and his influence was, in consequence, immense. No one +ventured to disagree with him, for to disagree with the Old Timer was to +write yourself down a tenderfoot, which no one, of course, cared to do. +It was a misfortune which only time could repair to be a new-comer, and +it was every new-comer's aim to assume with all possible speed the style +and customs of the aristocratic Old Timers, and to forget as soon as +possible the date of his own arrival. So it was as "The Sky Pilot," +familiarly "The Pilot," that the missionary went for many a day in the +Swan Creek country. + +I had become schoolmaster of Swan Creek. For in the spring a kind +Providence sent in the Muirs and the Bremans with housefuls of +children, to the ranchers' disgust, for they foresaw ploughed fields +and barbed-wire fences cramping their unlimited ranges. A school +became necessary. A little log building was erected and I was appointed +schoolmaster. It was as schoolmaster that I first came to touch The +Pilot, for the letter which the Hudson Bay freighters brought me early +one summer evening bore the inscription: + + + The Schoolmaster, + Public School, + Swan Creek, + Alberta. + + +There was altogether a fine air about the letter; the writing was in +fine, small hand, the tone was fine, and there was something fine in the +signature--"Arthur Wellington Moore." He was glad to know that there was +a school and a teacher in Swan Creek, for a school meant children, in +whom his soul delighted; and in the teacher he would find a friend, +and without a friend he could not live. He took me into his confidence, +telling me that though he had volunteered for this far-away mission +field he was not much of a preacher and he was not at all sure that he +would succeed. But he meant to try, and he was charmed at the prospect +of having one sympathizer at least. Would I be kind enough to put up in +some conspicuous place the enclosed notice, filling in the blanks as I +thought best? + + + "Divine service will be held at Swan creek + in ---- ----- at ---- o'clock. + All are cordially invited. + Arthur Wellington Moore." + + +On the whole I liked his letter. I liked its modest self-depreciation +and I liked its cool assumption of my sympathy and co-operation. But I +was perplexed. I remembered that Sunday was the day fixed for the great +baseball match, when those from "Home," as they fondly called the land +across the sea from which they had come, were to "wipe the earth" with +all comers. Besides, "Divine service" was an innovation in Swan Creek +and I felt sure that, like all innovations that suggested the approach +of the East, it would be by no means welcome. + +However, immediately under the notice of the "Grand Baseball Match for +'The Pain Killer' a week from Sunday, at 2:30, Home vs. the World," I +pinned on the door of the Stopping Place the announcement: + + +"Divine service will be held at Swan Creek, in the Stopping Place +Parlor, a week from Sunday, immediately upon the conclusion of the +baseball match. + +"Arthur Wellington Moore." + + +There was a strange incongruity in the two, and an unconscious challenge +as well. + +All next day, which was Saturday, and, indeed, during the following +week, I stood guard over my notice, enjoying the excitement it produced +and the comments it called forth. It was the advance wave of the +great ocean of civilization which many of them had been glad to leave +behind--some could have wished forever. + +To Robert Muir, one of the farmers newly arrived, the notice was a +harbinger of good. It stood for progress, markets and a higher price +for land; albeit he wondered "hoo he wad be keepit up." But his +hard-wrought, quick-spoken little wife at his elbow "hooted" his +scruples and, thinking of her growing lads, welcomed with unmixed +satisfaction the coming of "the meenister." Her satisfaction was shared +by all the mothers and most of the fathers in the settlement; but by the +others, and especially by that rollicking, roistering crew, the Company +of the Noble Seven, the missionary's coming was viewed with varying +degrees of animosity. It meant a limitation of freedom in their wildly +reckless living. The "Permit" nights would now, to say the least, be +subject to criticism; the Sunday wolf-hunts and horse-races, with their +attendant delights, would now be pursued under the eye of the Church, +and this would not add to the enjoyment of them. One great charm of the +country, which Bruce, himself the son of an Edinburgh minister, and now +Secretary of the Noble Seven, described as "letting a fellow do as he +blanked pleased," would be gone. None resented more bitterly than he the +missionary's intrusion, which he declared to be an attempt "to +reimpose upon their freedom the trammels of an antiquated and bigoted +conventionality." But the rest of the Company, while not taking +so decided a stand, were agreed that the establishment of a church +institution was an objectionable and impertinent as well as unnecessary +proceeding. + +Of course, Hi Kendal and his friend Bronco Bill had no opinion one way +or the other. The Church could hardly affect them even remotely. A dozen +years' stay in Montana had proved with sufficient clearness to them that +a church was a luxury of civilization the West might well do without. + +Outside the Company of the Noble Seven there was only one whose opinion +had value in Swan Creek, and that was the Old Timer. The Company had +sought to bring him in by making him an honorary member, but he refused +to be drawn from his home far up among the hills, where he lived with +his little girl Gwen and her old half-breed nurse, Ponka. The approach +of the church he seemed to resent as a personal injury. It represented +to him that civilization from which he had fled fifteen years ago with +his wife and baby girl, and when five years later he laid his wife in +the lonely grave that could be seen on the shaded knoll just fronting +his cabin door, the last link to his past was broken. From all that +suggested the great world beyond the run of the Prairie he shrank as one +shrinks from a sudden touch upon an old wound. + +"I guess I'll have to move back," he said to me gloomily. + +"Why?" I said in surprise, thinking of his grazing range, which was +ample for his herd. + +"This blank Sky Pilot." He never swore except when unusually moved. + +"Sky Pilot?" I inquired. + +He nodded and silently pointed to the notice. + +"Oh, well, he won't hurt you, will he?" + +"Can't stand it," he answered savagely, "must get away." + +"What about Gwen?" I ventured, for she was the light of his eyes. "Pity +to stop her studies." I was giving her weekly lessons at the old man's +ranch. + +"Dunno. Ain't figgered out yet about that baby." She was still his baby. +"Guess she's all she wants for the Foothills, anyway. What's the use?" +he added, bitterly, talking to himself after the manner of men who live +much alone. + +I waited for a moment, then said: "Well, I wouldn't hurry about doing +anything," knowing well that the one thing an old-timer hates to do is +to make any change in his mode of life. "Maybe he won't stay." + +He caught at this eagerly. "That's so! There ain't much to keep him, +anyway," and he rode off to his lonely ranch far up in the hills. + +I looked after the swaying figure and tried to picture his past with its +tragedy; then I found myself wondering how he would end and what would +come to his little girl. And I made up my mind that if the missionary +were the right sort his coming might not be a bad thing for the Old +Timer and perhaps for more than him. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PILOT'S MEASURE + + +It was Hi Kendal that announced the arrival of the missionary. I was +standing at the door of my school, watching the children ride off +home on their ponies, when Hi came loping along on his bronco in the +loose-jointed cowboy style. + +"Well," he drawled out, bringing his bronco to a dead stop in a single +bound, "he's lit." + +"Lit? Where? What?" said I, looking round for an eagle or some other +flying thing. + +"Your blanked Sky Pilot, and he's a beauty, a pretty kid--looks too +tender for this climate. Better not let him out on the range." Hi was +quite disgusted, evidently. + +"What's the matter with him, Hi?" + +"Why, HE ain't no parson! I don't go much on parsons, but when I calls +for one I don't want no bantam chicken. No, sirree, horse! I don't want +no blankety-blank, pink-and-white complected nursery kid foolin' round +my graveyard. If you're goin' to bring along a parson, why bring him +with his eye-teeth cut and his tail feathers on." + +That Hi was deeply disappointed was quite clear from the selection of +the profanity with which he adorned this lengthy address. It was +never the extent of his profanity, but the choice, that indicated Hi's +interest in any subject. + +Altogether, the outlook for the missionary was not encouraging. With +the single exception of the Muirs, who really counted for little, nobody +wanted him. To most of the reckless young bloods of the Company of the +Noble Seven his presence was an offence; to others simply a nuisance, +while the Old Timer regarded his advent with something like dismay; and +now Hi's impression of his personal appearance was not cheering. + +My first sight of him did not reassure me. He was very slight, very +young, very innocent, with a face that might do for an angel, except for +the touch of humor in it, but which seemed strangely out of place among +the rough, hard faces that were to be seen in the Swan Creek Country. +It was not a weak face, however. The forehead was high and square, the +mouth firm, and the eyes were luminous, of some dark color--violet, if +there is such a color in eyes--dreamy or sparkling, according to +his mood; eyes for which a woman might find use, but which, in a +missionary's head, appeared to me one of those extraordinary wastes of +which Nature is sometimes guilty. + +He was gazing far away into space infinitely beyond the Foothills and +the blue line of the mountains behind them. He turned to me as I drew +near, with eyes alight and face glowing. + +"It is glorious," he almost panted. "You see this everyday!" Then, +recalling himself, he came eagerly toward me, stretching out his hand. +"You are the schoolmaster, I know. Do you know, it's a great thing? I +wanted to be one, but I never could get the boys on. They always got +me telling them tales. I was awfully disappointed. I am trying the next +best thing. You see, I won't have to keep order, but I don't think I +can preach very well. I am going to visit your school. Have you many +scholars? Do you know, I think it's splendid? I wish I could do it." + +I had intended to be somewhat stiff with him, but his evident admiration +of me made me quite forget this laudable intention, and, as he talked +on without waiting for an answer, his enthusiasm, his deference to my +opinion, his charm of manner, his beautiful face, his luminous eyes, +made him perfectly irresistible; and before I was aware I was listening +to his plans for working his mission with eager interest. So eager was +my interest, indeed, that before I was aware I found myself asking him +to tea with me in my shack. But he declined, saying: + +"I'd like to, awfully; but do you know, I think Latour expects me." + +This consideration of Latour's feelings almost upset me. + +"You come with me," he added, and I went. + +Latour welcomed us with his grim old face wreathed in unusual smiles. +The pilot had been talking to him, too. + +"I've got it, Latour!" he cried out as he entered; "here you are," +and he broke into the beautiful French-Canadian chanson, "A la Claire +Fontaine," to the old half-breed's almost tearful delight. + +"Do you know," he went on, "I heard that first down the Mattawa," +and away he went into a story of an experience with French-Canadian +raftsmen, mixing up his French and English in so charming a manner that +Latour; who in his younger days long ago had been a shantyman himself, +hardly knew whether he was standing on his head or on his heels. + +After tea I proposed a ride out to see the sunset from the nearest +rising ground. Latour, with unexampled generosity, offered his own +cayuse, "Louis." + +"I can't ride well," protested The Pilot. + +"Ah! dat's good ponee, Louis," urged Latour. "He's quiet lak wan leetle +mouse; he's ride lak--what you call?--wan horse-on-de-rock." Under which +persuasion the pony was accepted. + +That evening I saw the Swan Creek country with new eyes--through the +luminous eyes of The Pilot. We rode up the trail by the side of the Swan +till we came to the coulee mouth, dark and full of mystery. + +"Come on," I said, "we must get to the top for the sunset." + +He looked lingeringly into the deep shadows and asked: "Anything live +down there?" + +"Coyotes and wolves and ghosts." + +"Ghosts?" he asked, delightedly. "Do you know, I was sure there were, +and I'm quite sure I shall see them." + +Then we took the Porcupine trail and climbed for about two miles the +gentle slope to the top of the first rising ground. There we stayed and +watched the sun take his nightly plunge into the sea of mountains, now +dimly visible. Behind us stretched the prairie, sweeping out level to +the sky and cut by the winding coulee of the Swan. Great long shadows +from the hills were lying upon its yellow face, and far at the distant +edge the gray haze was deepening into purple. Before us lay the hills, +softly curving like the shoulders of great sleeping monsters, their tops +still bright, but the separating valleys full of shadow. And there, far +beyond them, up against the sky, was the line of the mountains--blue, +purple, and gold, according as the light fell upon them. The sun had +taken his plunge, but he had left behind him his robes of saffron and +gold. We stood long without a word or movement, filling our hearts with +the silence and the beauty, till the gold in the west began to grow dim. +High above all the night was stretching her star-pierced, blue canopy, +and drawing slowly up from the east over the prairie and over the +sleeping hills the soft folds of a purple haze. The great silence of the +dying day had fallen upon the world and held us fast. + +"Listen," he said, in a low tone, pointing to the hills. "Can't you +hear them breathe?" And, looking at their curving shoulders, I fancied I +could see them slowly heaving as if in heavy sleep, and I was quite sure +I could hear them breathe. I was under the spell of his voice and his +eyes, and nature was all living to me then. + +We rode back to the Stopping Place in silence, except for a word of mine +now and then which he heeded not; and, with hardly a good night, he +left me at the door. I turned away feeling as if I had been in a strange +country and among strange people. + +How would he do with the Swan Creek folk? Could he make them see the +hills breathe? Would they feel as I felt under his voice and eyes? What +a curious mixture he was! I was doubtful about his first Sunday, and was +surprised to find all my indifference as to his success or failure gone. +It was a pity about the baseball match. I would speak to some of the men +about it to-morrow. + +Hi might be disappointed in his appearance, but, as I turned into my +shack and thought over my last two hours with The Pilot and how he had +"got" old Latour and myself, I began to think that Hi might be mistaken +in his measure of The Pilot. + + + +CHAPTER V + +FIRST BLOOD + + +One is never so enthusiastic in the early morning, when the emotions are +calmest and the nerves at their steadiest. But I was determined to try +to have the baseball match postponed. There could be no difficulty. One +day was as much of a holiday as another to these easy-going fellows. +But The Duke, when I suggested a change in the day, simply raised his +eyebrows an eighth of an inch and said: + +"Can't see why the day should be changed." Bruce stormed and swore all +sorts of destruction upon himself if he was going to change his style of +life for any man. The others followed The Duke's lead. + +That Sunday was a day of incongruities. The Old and the New, the +East and the West, the reverential Past and iconoclastic Present were +jumbling themselves together in bewildering confusion. The baseball +match was played with much vigor and profanity. The expression on The +Pilot's face, as he stood watching for a while, was a curious mixture of +interest, surprise, doubt and pain. He was readjusting himself. He was +so made as to be extremely sensitive to his surroundings. He took on +color quickly. The utter indifference to the audacious disregard of all +he had hitherto considered sacred and essential was disconcerting. They +were all so dead sure. How did he know they were wrong? It was his first +near view of practical, living skepticism. Skepticism in a book did not +disturb him; he could put down words against it. But here it was alive, +cheerful, attractive, indeed fascinating; for these men in their western +garb and with their western swing had captured his imagination. He was +in a fierce struggle, and in a few minutes I saw him disappear into the +coulee. + +Meantime the match went uproariously on to a finish, with the result +that the champions of "Home" had "to stand The Painkiller," their defeat +being due chiefly to the work of Hi and Bronco Bill as pitcher and +catcher. + +The celebration was in full swing; or as Hi put it, "the boys were +takin' their pizen good an' calm," when in walked The Pilot. His face +was still troubled and his lips were drawn and blue, as if he were in +pain. A silence fell on the men as he walked in through the crowd and up +to the bar. He stood a moment hesitating, looking round upon the faces +flushed and hot that were now turned toward him in curious defiance. He +noticed the look, and it pulled him together. He faced about toward old +Latour and asked in a high, clear voice: + +"Is this the room you said we might have?" + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and said: + +"There is not any more." + +The lad paused for an instant, but only for an instant. Then, lifting a +pile of hymn books he had near him on the counter, he said in a grave, +sweet voice, and with the quiver of a smile about his lips: + +"Gentlemen, Mr. Latour has allowed me this room for a religious service. +It will give me great pleasure if you will all join," and immediately he +handed a book to Bronco Bill, who, surprised, took it as if he did not +know what to do with it. The others followed Bronco's lead till he came +to Bruce, who refused, saying roughly: + +"No! I don't want it; I've no use for it." + +The missionary flushed and drew back as if he had been struck, but +immediately, as if unconsciously, The Duke, who was standing near, +stretched out his hand and said, with a courteous bow, "I thank you; I +should be glad of one." + +"Thank you," replied The Pilot, simply, as he handed him a book. The men +seated themselves upon the bench that ran round the room, or leaned up +against the counter, and most of them took off their hats. Just then in +came Muir, and behind him his little wife. + +In an instant The Duke was on his feet, and every hat came off. + +The missionary stood up at the bar, and announced the hymn, "Jesus, +Lover of My Soul." The silence that followed was broken by the sound of +a horse galloping. A buckskin bronco shot past the window, and in a few +moments there appeared at the door the Old Timer. He was about to stride +in when the unusual sight of a row of men sitting solemnly with hymn +books in their hands held him fast at the door. He gazed in an amazed, +helpless way upon the men, then at the missionary, then back at the men, +and stood speechless. Suddenly there was a high, shrill, boyish laugh, +and the men turned to see the missionary in a fit of laughter. It +certainly was a shock to any lingering ideas of religious propriety they +might have about them; but the contrast between his frank, laughing face +and the amazed and disgusted face of the shaggy old man in the doorway +was too much for them, and one by one they gave way to roars of +laughter. The Old Timer, however, kept his face unmoved, strode up to +the bar and nodded to old Latour, who served him his drink, which he +took at a gulp. + +"Here, old man!" called out Bill, "get into the game; here's your deck," +offering him his book. But the missionary was before him, and, with very +beautiful grace, he handed the Old Timer a book and pointed him to a +seat. + +I shall never forget that service. As a religious affair it was a dead +failure, but somehow I think The Pilot, as Hi approvingly said, "got in +his funny work," and it was not wholly a defeat. The first hymn was sung +chiefly by the missionary and Mrs. Muir, whose voice was very high, with +one or two of the men softly whistling an accompaniment. The second hymn +was better, and then came the Lesson, the story of the feeding of the +five thousand. As the missionary finished the story, Bill, who had been +listening with great interest, said: + +"I say, pard, I think I'll call you just now." + +"I beg your pardon!" said the startled missionary. + +"You're givin' us quite a song and dance now, ain't you?" + +"I don't understand," was the puzzled reply. + +"How many men was there in the crowd?" asked Bill, with a judicial air. + +"Five thousand." + +"And how much grub?" + +"Five loaves and two fishes," answered Bruce for the missionary. + +"Well," drawled Bill, with the air of a man who has reached a +conclusion, "that's a little too unusual for me. Why," looking pityingly +at the missionary, "it ain't natarel." + +"Right you are, my boy," said Bruce, with a laugh. "It's deucedly +unnatural." + +"Not for Him," said the missionary, quietly. Then Bruce joyfully took +him up and led him on into a discussion of evidences, and from evidences +into metaphysics, the origin of evil and the freedom of the will, till +the missionary, as Bill said, "was rattled worse nor a rooster in the +dark." Poor little Mrs. Muir was much scandalized and looked anxiously +at her husband, wishing him to take her out. But help came from an +unexpected quarter, and Hi suddenly called out: + +"Here you, Bill, shut your blanked jaw, and you, Bruce, give the man a +chance to work off his music." + +"That's so! Fair play! Go on!" were the cries that came in response to +Hi's appeal. + +The missionary, who was all trembling and much troubled, gave Hi a +grateful look, and said: + +"I'm afraid there are a great many things I don't understand, and I am +not good at argument." There were shouts of "Go on! fire ahead, play the +game!" but he said, "I think we will close the service with a hymn." His +frankness and modesty, and his respectful, courteous manner gained the +sympathy of the men, so that all joined heartily in singing, "Sun of My +Soul." In the prayer that followed his voice grew steady and his nerve +came back to him. The words were very simple, and the petitions were +mostly for light and for strength. With a few words of remembrance of +"those in our homes far away who think of us and pray for us and never +forget," this strange service was brought to a close. + +After the missionary had stepped out, the whole affair was discussed +with great warmth. Hi Kendal thought "The Pilot didn't have no fair +show," maintaining that when he was "ropin' a steer he didn't want no +blanked tenderfoot to be shovin' in his rope like Bill there." But Bill +steadily maintained his position that "the story of that there picnic +was a little too unusual" for him. Bruce was trying meanwhile to beguile +The Duke into a discussion of the physics and metaphysics of the case. +But The Duke refused with quiet contempt to be drawn into a region where +he felt himself a stranger. He preferred poker himself, if Bruce +cared to take a hand; and so the evening went on, with the theological +discussion by Hi and Bill in a judicial, friendly spirit in one corner, +while the others for the most part played poker. + +When the missionary returned late there were only a few left in the +room, among them The Duke and Bruce, who was drinking steadily and +losing money. The missionary's presence seemed to irritate him, and he +played even more recklessly than usual, swearing deeply at every loss. +At the door the missionary stood looking up into the night sky and +humming softly "Sun of My Soul," and after a few minutes The Duke joined +in humming a bass to the air till Bruce could contain himself no longer. + +"I say," he called out, "this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is it?" + +The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly: "Well, +what is it? What's the trouble?" + +"Trouble!" shouted Bruce. "I don't see what hymn-singing has to do with +a poker game." + +"Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing?" said The Duke. Then after a +pause he added, "You're quite right. I say, Bruce, let's quit. Something +has got on to your nerves." And coolly sweeping his pile into his +pocket, he gave up the game. With an oath Bruce left the table, took +another drink, and went unsteadily out to his horse, and soon we heard +him ride away into the darkness, singing snatches of the hymn and +swearing the most awful oaths. + +The missionary's face was white with horror. It was all new and horrible +to him. + +"Will he get safely home?" he asked of The Duke. + +"Don't you worry, youngster," said The Duke, in his loftiest manner, +"he'll get along." + +The luminous, dreamy eyes grew hard and bright as they looked The Duke +in the face. + +"Yes, I shall worry; but you ought to worry more." + +"Ah!" said The Duke, raising his brows and smiling gently upon the +bright, stern young face lifted up to his. "I didn't notice that I had +asked your opinion." + +"If anything should happen to him," replied the missionary, quickly, "I +should consider you largely responsible." + +"That would be kind," said The Duke, still smiling with his lips. But +after a moment's steady look into the missionary's eyes he nodded his +head twice or thrice, and, without further word, turned away. + +The missionary turned eagerly to me: + +"They beat me this afternoon," he cried, "but thank God, I know now +they are wrong and I am right! I don't understand! I can't see my way +through! But I am right! It's true! I feel it's true! Men can't live +without Him, and be men!" + +And long after I went to my shack that night I saw before me the eager +face with the luminous eyes and heard the triumphant cry: "I feel it's +true! Men can't live without Him, and be men!" and I knew that though +his first Sunday ended in defeat there was victory yet awaiting him. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HIS SECOND WIND + + +The first weeks were not pleasant for The Pilot. He had been beaten, and +the sense of failure damped his fine enthusiasm, which was one of his +chief charms. The Noble Seven despised, ignored, or laughed at him, +according to their mood and disposition. Bruce patronized him; and, +worst of all, the Muirs pitied him. This last it was that brought him +low, and I was glad of it. I find it hard to put up with a man that +enjoys pity. + +It was Hi Kendal that restored him, though Hi had no thought of doing +so good a deed. It was in this way: A baseball match was on with The +Porcupines from near the Fort. To Hi's disgust and the team's dismay +Bill failed to appear. It was Hi's delight to stand up for Bill's +pitching, and their battery was the glory of the Home team. + +"Try The Pilot, Hi," said some one, chaffing him. + +Hi looked glumly across at The Pilot standing some distance, away; then +called out, holding up the ball: + +"Can you play the game?" + +For answer Moore held up his hands for a catch. Hi tossed him the ball +easily. The ball came back so quickly that Hi was hardly ready, and the +jar seemed to amaze him exceedingly. + +"I'll take him," he said, doubtfully, and the game began. Hi fitted on +his mask, a new importation and his peculiar pride, and waited. + +"How do you like them?" asked The Pilot. + +"Hot!" said Hi. "I hain't got no gloves to burn." + +The Pilot turned his back, swung off one foot on to the other and +discharged his ball. + +"Strike!" called the umpire. + +"You bet!" said Hi, with emphasis, but his face was a picture of +amazement and dawning delight. + +Again The Pilot went through the manoeuvre in his box and again the +umpire called: + +"Strike!" + +Hi stopped the ball without holding it and set himself for the third. +Once more that disconcerting swing and the whip-like action of the arm, +and for the third time the umpire called: + +"Strike! Striker out!" + +"That's the hole," yelled Hi. + +The Porcupines were amazed. Hi looked at the ball in his hand, then at +the slight figure of The Pilot. + +"I say! where do you get it?" + +"What?" asked Moore innocently. + +"The gait!" + +"The what?" + +"The gait! the speed, you know!" + +"Oh! I used to play in Princeton a little." + +"Did, eh? What the blank blank did you quit for?" + +He evidently regarded the exchange of the profession of baseball for the +study of theology as a serious error in judgment, and in this opinion +every inning of the game confirmed him. At the bat The Pilot did not +shine, but he made up for light hitting by his base-running. He was +fleet as a deer, and he knew the game thoroughly. He was keen, eager, +intense in play, and before the innings were half over he was recognized +as the best all-round man on the field. In the pitcher's box he puzzled +the Porcupines till they grew desperate and hit wildly and blindly, +amid the jeers of the spectators. The bewilderment of the Porcupines was +equaled only by the enthusiasm of Hi and his nine, and when the game was +over the score stood 37 to 7 in favor of the Home team. They carried The +Pilot off the field. + +From that day Moore was another man. He had won the unqualified respect +of Hi Kendal and most of the others, for he could beat them at their own +game and still be modest about it. Once more his enthusiasm came back +and his brightness and his courage. The Duke was not present to witness +his triumph, and, besides, he rather despised the game. Bruce was there, +however, but took no part in the general acclaim; indeed, he seemed +rather disgusted with Moore's sudden leap into favor. Certainly his +hostility to The Pilot and to all that he stood for was none the less +open and bitter. + +The hostility was more than usually marked at the service held on the +Sunday following. It was, perhaps, thrown into stronger relief by the +open and delighted approval of Hi, who was prepared to back up anything +The Pilot would venture to say. Bill, who had not witnessed The Pilot's +performance in the pitcher's box, but had only Hi's enthusiastic +report to go upon, still preserved his judicial air. It is fair to say, +however, that there was no mean-spirited jealousy in Bill's heart even +though Hi had frankly assured him that The Pilot was "a demon," and +could "give him points." Bill had great confidence in Hi's opinion upon +baseball, but he was not prepared to surrender his right of private +judgment in matters theological, so he waited for the sermon before +committing himself to any enthusiastic approval. This service was an +undoubted success. The singing was hearty, and insensibly the men fell +into a reverent attitude during prayer. The theme, too, was one that +gave little room for skepticism. It was the story of Zaccheus, and +story-telling was Moore's strong point. The thing was well done. +Vivid portraitures of the outcast, shrewd, converted publican and the +supercilious, self-complacent, critical Pharisee were drawn with a few +deft touches. A single sentence transferred them to the Foothills and +arrayed them in cowboy garb. Bill was none too sure of himself, but +Hi, with delightful winks, was indicating Bruce as the Pharisee, to the +latter's scornful disgust. The preacher must have noticed, for with a +very clever turn the Pharisee was shown to be the kind of man who likes +to fit faults upon others. Then Bill, digging his elbows into Hi's ribs, +said in an audible whisper: + +"Say, pardner, how does it fit now?" + +"You git out!" answered Hi, indignantly, but his confidence in his +interpretation of the application was shaken. When Moore came to +describe the Master and His place in that ancient group, we in the +Stopping Place parlor fell under the spell of his eyes and voice, and +our hearts were moved within us. That great Personality was made +very real and very winning. Hi was quite subdued by the story and the +picture. Bill was perplexed; it was all new to him; but Bruce was mainly +irritated. To him it was all old and filled with memories he hated to +face. At any rate he was unusually savage that evening, drank heavily +and went home late, raging and cursing at things in general and The +Pilot in particular--for Moore, in a timid sort of way, had tried to +quiet him and help him to his horse. + +"Ornery sort o' beast now, ain't he?" said Hi, with the idea of +comforting The Pilot, who stood sadly looking after Bruce disappearing +in the gloom. + +"No! no!" he answered, quickly, "not a beast, but a brother." + +"Brother! Not much, if I know my relations!" answered Hi, disgustedly. + +"The Master thinks a good deal of him," was the earnest reply. + +"Git out!" said Hi, "you don't mean it! Why," he added, decidedly, "he's +more stuck on himself than that mean old cuss you was tellin' about this +afternoon, and without half the reason." + +But Moore only said, kindly, "Don't be hard on him, Hi," and turned +away, leaving Hi and Bill gravely discussing the question, with the aid +of several drinks of whisky. They were still discussing when, an hour +later, they, too, disappeared into the darkness that swallowed up the +trail to Ashley Ranch. That was the first of many such services. The +preaching was always of the simplest kind, abstract questions being +avoided and the concrete in those wonderful Bible tales, dressed in +modern and in western garb, set forth. Bill and Hi were more than +ever his friends and champions, and the latter was heard exultantly to +exclaim to Bruce: + +"He ain't much to look at as a parson, but he's a-ketchin' his second +wind, and 'fore long you won't see him for dust." + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LAST OF THE PERMIT SUNDAYS + + +The spring "round-ups" were all over and Bruce had nothing to do but +to loaf about the Stopping Place, drinking old Latour's bad whisky and +making himself a nuisance. In vain The Pilot tried to win him with loans +of books and magazines and other kindly courtesies. He would be decent +for a day and then would break forth in violent argumentation against +religion and all who held to it. He sorely missed The Duke, who was away +south on one of his periodic journeys, of which no one knew anything +or cared to ask. The Duke's presence always steadied Bruce and took +the rasp out of his manners. It was rather a relief to all that he was +absent from the next fortnightly service, though Moore declared he was +ashamed to confess this relief. + +"I can't touch him," he said to me, after the service; "he is far too +clever, but," and his voice was full of pain, "I'd give something to +help him." + +"If he doesn't quit his nonsense," I replied, "he'll soon be past +helping. He doesn't go out on his range, his few cattle wander +everywhere, his shack is in a beastly state, and he himself is going +to pieces, miserable fool that he is." For it did seem a shame that a +fellow should so throw himself away for nothing. + +"You are hard," said Moore, with his eyes upon me. + +"Hard? Isn't it true?" I answered, hotly. "Then, there's his mother at +home." + +"Yes, but can he help it? Is it all his fault?" he replied, with his +steady eyes still looking into me. + +"His fault? Whose fault, then?" + +"What of the Noble Seven? Have they anything to do with this?" His voice +was quiet, but there was an arresting intensity in it. + +"Well," I said, rather weakly, "a man ought to look after himself." + +"Yes!--and his brother a little." Then, he added: "What have any of you +done to help him? The Duke could have pulled him up a year ago if he had +been willing to deny himself a little, and so with all of you. You all +do just what pleases you regardless of any other, and so you help one +another down." + +I could not find anything just then to say, though afterwards many +things came to me; for, though his voice was quiet and low, his eyes +were glowing and his face was alight with the fire that burned within, +and I felt like one convicted of a crime. This was certainly a +new doctrine for the West; an uncomfortable doctrine to practice, +interfering seriously with personal liberty, but in The Pilot's way +of viewing things difficult to escape. There would be no end to one's +responsibility. I refused to think it out. + +Within a fortnight we were thinking it out with some intentness. The +Noble Seven were to have a great "blow-out" at the Hill brothers' ranch. +The Duke had got home from his southern trip a little more weary-looking +and a little more cynical in his smile. The "blow-out" was to be held +on Permit Sunday, the alternate to the Preaching Sunday, which was a +concession to The Pilot, secured chiefly through the influence of Hi +and his baseball nine. It was something to have created the situation +involved in the distinction between Preaching and Permit Sundays. Hi put +it rather graphically. "The devil takes his innin's one Sunday and The +Pilot the next," adding emphatically, "He hain't done much scorin' +yit, but my money's on The Pilot, you bet!" Bill was more cautious and +preferred to wait developments. And developments were rapid. + +The Hill brothers' meet was unusually successful from a social point +of view. Several Permits had been requisitioned, and whisky and beer +abounded. Races all day and poker all night and drinks of various brews +both day and night, with varying impromptu diversions--such as shooting +the horns off wandering steers--were the social amenities indulged in by +the noble company. On Monday evening I rode out to the ranch, urged by +Moore, who was anxious that someone should look after Bruce. + +"I don't belong to them," he said, "you do. They won't resent your +coming." + +Nor did they. They were sitting at tea, and welcomed me with a shout. + +"Hello, old domine!" yelled Bruce, "where's your preacher friend?" + +"Where you ought to be, if you could get there--at home," I replied, +nettled at his insolent tone. + +"Strike one!" called out Hi, enthusiastically, not approving Bruce's +attitude toward his friend, The Pilot. + +"Don't be so acute," said Bruce, after the laugh had passed, "but have a +drink." + +He was flushed and very shaky and very noisy. The Duke, at the head +of the table, looked a little harder than usual, but, though pale, was +quite steady. The others were all more or less nerve-broken, and about +the room were the signs of a wild night. A bench was upset, while broken +bottles and crockery lay strewn about over a floor reeking with filth. +The disgust on my face called forth an apology from the younger Hill, +who was serving up ham and eggs as best he could to the men lounging +about the table. + +"It's my housemaid's afternoon out," he explained gravely. + +"Gone for a walk in the park," added an other. + +"Hope MISTER Connor will pardon the absence," sneered Bruce, in his most +offensive manner. + +"Don't mind him," said Hi, under his breath, "the blue devils are +runnin' him down." + +This became more evident as the evening went on. From hilarity Bruce +passed to sullen ferocity, with spasms of nervous terror. Hi's attempts +to soothe him finally drove him mad, and he drew his revolver, declaring +he could look after himself, in proof of which he began to shoot out the +lights. + +The men scrambled into safe corners, all but The Duke, who stood quietly +by watching Bruce shoot. Then saying: + +"Let me have a try, Bruce," he reached across and caught his hand. + +"No! you don't," said Bruce, struggling. "No man gets my gun." + +He tore madly at the gripping hand with both of his, but in vain, +calling out with frightful oaths: + +"Let go! let go! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" + +With a furious effort he hurled himself back from the table, dragging +The Duke partly across. There was a flash and a report and Bruce +collapsed, The Duke still gripping him. When they lifted him up he was +found to have an ugly wound in his arm, the bullet having passed through +the fleshy part. I bound it up as best I could and tried to persuade him +to go to bed. But he would go home. Nothing could stop him. Finally The +Duke agreed to go with him, and off they set, Bruce loudly protesting +that he could get home alone and did not want anyone. + +It was a dismal break-up to the meet, and we all went home feeling +rather sick, so that it gave me no pleasure to find Moore waiting in my +shack for my report of Bruce. It was quite vain for me to make light of +the accident to him. His eyes were wide open with anxious fear when I +had done. + +"You needn't tell me not to be anxious," he said, "you are anxious +yourself. I see it, I feel it." + +"Well, there's no use trying to keep things from you," I replied, "but +I am only a little anxious. Don't you go beyond me and work yourself up +into a fever over it." + +"No," he answered quietly, "but I wish his mother were nearer." + +"Oh, bosh, it isn't coming to that; but I wish he were in better shape. +He is broken up badly without this hole in him." + +He would not leave till I had promised to take him up the next day, +though I was doubtful enough of his reception. But next day The Duke +came down, his black bronco, Jingo, wet with hard riding. + +"Better come up, Connor," he said, gravely, "and bring your bromides +along. He has had a bad night and morning and fell asleep only before +I came away. I expect he'll wake in delirium. It's the whisky more than +the bullet. Snakes, you know." + +In ten minutes we three were on the trail, for Moore, though not +invited, quietly announced his intention to go with us. + +"Oh, all right," said The Duke, indifferently, "he probably won't +recognize you any way." + +We rode hard for half an hour till we came within sight of Bruce's +shack, which was set back into a little poplar bluff. + +"Hold up!" said The Duke. "Was that a shot?" We stood listening. A +rifle-shot rang out, and we rode hard. Again The Duke halted us, and +there came from the shack the sound of singing. It was an old Scotch +tune. + +"The twenty-third Psalm," said Moore, in a low voice. + +We rode into the bluff, tied up our horses and crept to the back of the +shack. Looking through a crack between the logs, I saw a gruesome thing. +Bruce was sitting up in bed with a Winchester rifle across his knees and +a belt of cartridges hanging over the post. His bandages were torn off, +the blood from his wound was smeared over his bare arms and his pale, +ghastly face; his eyes were wild with mad terror, and he was shouting at +the top of his voice the words: + + "The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want, + He makes me down to lie + In pastures green, He leadeth me + The quiet waters by." + +Now and then he would stop to say in an awesome whisper, "Come out here, +you little devils!" and bang would go his rifle at the stovepipe, which +was riddled with holes. Then once more in a loud voice he would hurry to +begin the Psalm, + + "The Lord's my Shepherd." + +Nothing that my memory brings to me makes me chill like that +picture--the low log shack, now in cheerless disorder; the ghastly +object upon the bed in the corner, with blood-smeared face and arms and +mad terror in the eyes; the awful cursings and more awful psalm-singing, +punctuated by the quick report of the deadly rifle. + +For some moments we stood gazing at one another; then The Duke said, in +a low, fierce tone, more to himself than to us: + +"This is the last. There'll be no more of this cursed folly among the +boys." + +And I thought it a wise thing in The Pilot that he answered not a word. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE PILOT'S GRIP + + +The situation was one of extreme danger--a madman with a Winchester +rifle. Something must be done and quickly. But what? It would be death +to anyone appearing at the door. + +"I'll speak; you keep your eyes on him," said The Duke. + +"Hello, Bruce! What's the row?" shouted The Duke. + +Instantly the singing stopped. A look of cunning delight came over his +face as, without a word, he got his rifle ready pointed at the door. + +"Come in!" he yelled, after waiting for some moments. "Come in! You're +the biggest of all the devils. Come on, I'll send you down where you +belong. Come, what's keeping you?" + +Over the rifle-barrel his eyes gleamed with frenzied delight. We +consulted as to a plan. + +"I don't relish a bullet much," I said. + +"There are pleasanter things," responded The Duke, "and he is a fairly +good shot." + +Meantime the singing had started again, and, looking through the chink, +I saw that Bruce had got his eye on the stovepipe again. While I was +looking The Pilot slipped away from us toward the door. + +"Come back!" said the Duke, "don't be a fool! Come back, he'll shoot you +dead!" + +Moore paid no heed to him, but stood waiting at the door. In a few +moments Bruce blazed away again at the stovepipe. Immediately the Pilot +burst in, calling out eagerly: + +"Did you get him?" + +"No!" said Bruce, disappointedly, "he dodged like the devil, as of +course he ought, you know." + +"I'll get him," said Moore. "Smoke him out," proceeding to open the +stove door. + +"Stop!" screamed Bruce, "don't open that door! It's full, I tell you." +Moore paused. "Besides," went on Bruce, "smoke won't touch 'em." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Moore, coolly and with admirable quickness, +"wood smoke, you know--they can't stand that." + +This was apparently a new idea in demonology for Bruce, for he sank +back, while Moore lighted the fire and put on the tea-kettle. He looked +round for the tea-caddy. + +"Up there," said Bruce, forgetting for the moment his devils, and +pointing to a quaint, old-fashioned tea-caddy upon the shelf. + +Moore took it down, turned it in his hands and looked at Bruce. + +"Old country, eh?" + +"My mother's," said Bruce, soberly. + +"I could have sworn it was my aunt's in Balleymena," said Moore. "My +aunt lived in a little stone cottage with roses all over the front of +it." And on he went into an enthusiastic description of his early home. +His voice was full of music, soft and soothing, and poor Bruce sank back +and listened, the glitter fading from his eyes. + +The Duke and I looked at each other. + +"Not too bad, eh?" said The Duke, after a few moments' silence. + +"Let's put up the horses," I suggested. "They won't want us for half an +hour." + +When we came in, the room had been set in order, the tea-kettle was +singing, the bedclothes straightened out, and Moore had just finished +washing the blood stains from Bruce's arms and neck. + +"Just in time," he said. "I didn't like to tackle these," pointing to +the bandages. + +All night long Moore soothed and tended the sick man, now singing softly +to him, and again beguiling him with tales that meant nothing, but that +had a strange power to quiet the nervous restlessness, due partly to the +pain of the wounded arm and partly to the nerve-wrecking from his months +of dissipation. The Duke seemed uncomfortable enough. He spoke to Bruce +once or twice, but the only answer was a groan or curse with an increase +of restlessness. + +"He'll have a close squeak," said The Duke. The carelessness of the tone +was a little overdone, but The Pilot was stirred up by it. + +"He has not been fortunate in his friends," he said, looking straight +into his eyes. + +"A man ought to know himself when the pace is too swift," said The Duke, +a little more quickly than was his wont. + +"You might have done anything with him. Why didn't you help him?" +Moore's tones were stern and very steady, and he never moved his eyes +from the other man's face, but the only reply he got was a shrug of the +shoulders. + +When the gray of the morning was coming in at the window The Duke rose +up, gave himself, a little shake, and said: + +"I am not of any service here. I shall come back in the evening." + +He went and stood for a few moments looking down upon the hot, fevered +face; then, turning to me, he asked: + +"What do you think?" + +"Can't say! The bromide is holding him down just now. His blood is bad +for that wound." + +"Can I get anything?" I knew him well enough to recognize the anxiety +under his indifferent manner. + +"The Fort doctor ought to be got." + +He nodded and went out. + +"Have breakfast?" called out Moore from the door. + +"I shall get some at the Fort, thanks. They won't take any hurt from me +there," he said, smiling his cynical smile. + +Moore opened his eyes in surprise. + +"What's that for?" he asked me. + +"Well, he is rather cut up, and you rather rubbed it into him, you +know," I said, for I thought Moore a little hard. + +"Did I say anything untrue?" + +"Well, not untrue, perhaps; but truth is like medicine--not always good +to take." At which Moore was silent till his patient needed him again. + +It was a weary day. The intense pain from the wound, and the high fever +from the poison in his blood kept the poor fellow in delirium till +evening, when The Duke rode up with the Fort doctor. Jingo appeared +as nearly played out as a horse of his spirit ever allowed himself to +become. + +"Seventy miles," said The Duke, swinging himself off the saddle. "The +doctor was ten miles out. How is he?" + +I shook my head, and he led away his horse to give him a rub and a feed. + +Meantime the doctor, who was of the army and had seen service, was +examining his patient. He grew more and more puzzled as he noted the +various symptoms. Finally he broke out: + +"What have you been doing to him? Why is he in this condition? This +fleabite doesn't account for all," pointing to the wound. + +We stood like children reproved. Then The Duke said, hesitatingly: + +"I fear, doctor, the life has been a little too hard for him. He had a +severe nervous attack--seeing things, you know." + +"Yes, I know," stormed the old doctor. "I know you well enough, with +your head of cast-iron and no nerves to speak of. I know the crowd and +how you lead them. Infernal fools! You'll get your turn some day. I've +warned you before." + +The Duke was standing up before the doctor during this storm, smiling +slightly. All at once the smile faded out and he pointed to the bed. +Bruce was sitting up quiet and steady. He stretched out his hand to The +Duke. + +"Don't mind the old fool," he said, holding The Duke's hand and +looking up at him as fondly as if he were a girl. "It's my own +funeral--funeral?" he paused--"Perhaps it may be--who knows?--feel queer +enough--but remember, Duke--it's my own fault--don't listen to those +bally fools," looking towards Moore and the doctor. "My own fault"--his +voice died down--"my own fault." + +The Duke bent over him and laid him back on the pillow, saying, "Thanks, +old chap, you're good stuff. I'll not forget. Just keep quiet and you'll +be all right." He passed his cool, firm hand over the hot brow of the +man looking up at him with love in his eyes, and in a few moments Bruce +fell asleep. Then The Duke lifted himself up, and facing the doctor, +said in his coolest tone: + +"Your words are more true than opportune, doctor. Your patient will need +all your attention. As for my morals, Mr. Moore kindly entrusts himself +with the care of them." This with a bow toward The Pilot. + +"I wish him joy of his charge," snorted the doctor, turning again to the +bed, where Bruce had already passed into delirium. + +The memory of that vigil was like a horrible nightmare for months. +Moore lay on the floor and slept. The Duke rode off somewhither. The +old doctor and I kept watch. All night poor Bruce raved in the wildest +delirium, singing, now psalms, now songs, swearing at the cattle or his +poker partners, and now and then, in quieter moments, he was back in his +old home, a boy, with a boy's friends and sports. Nothing could check +the fever. It baffled the doctor, who often, during the night, declared +that there was "no sense in a wound like that working up such a fever," +adding curses upon the folly of The Duke and his Company. + +"You don't think he will not get better, doctor?" I asked, in answer to +one of his outbreaks. + +"He ought to get over this," he answered, impatiently, "but I believe," +he added, deliberately, "he'll have to go." + +Everything stood still for a moment. It seemed impossible. Two days ago +full of life, now on the way out. There crowded in upon me thoughts of +his home; his mother, whose letters he used to show me full of anxious +love; his wild life here, with all its generous impulses, its mistakes, +its folly. + +"How long will he last?" I asked, and my lips were dry and numb. + +"Perhaps twenty-four hours, perhaps longer. He can't throw off the +poison." + +The old doctor proved a true prophet. After another day of agonized +delirium he sank into a stupor which lasted through the night. + +Then the change came. As the light began to grow at the eastern rim of +the prairie and up the far mountains in the west, Bruce opened his eyes +and looked about upon us. The doctor had gone; The Duke had not come +back; Moore and I were alone. He gazed at us steadily for some moments; +read our faces; a look of wonder came into his eyes. + +"Is it coming?" he asked in a faint, awed voice. "Do you really think I +must go?" + +The eager appeal in his voice and the wistful longing in the wide-open, +startled eyes were too much for Moore. He backed behind me and I could +hear him weeping like a baby. Bruce heard him, too. + +"Is that The Pilot?" he asked. Instantly Moore pulled himself up, wiped +his eyes and came round to the other side of the bed and looked down, +smiling. + +"Do YOU say I am dying?" The voice was strained in its earnestness. I +felt a thrill of admiration go through me as the Pilot answered in a +sweet, clear voice: "They say so, Bruce. But you are not afraid?" + +Bruce kept his eyes on his face and answered with grave hesitation: + +"No--not--afraid--but I'd like to live a little longer. I've made such +a mess of it, I'd like to try again." Then he paused, and his +lips quivered a little. "There's my mother, you know," he added, +apologetically, "and Jim." Jim was his younger brother and sworn chum. + +"Yes, I know, Bruce, but it won't be very long for them, too, and it's a +good place." + +"Yes, I believe it all--always did--talked rot--you'll forgive me that?" + +"Don't; don't," said Moore quickly, with sharp pain in his voice, and +Bruce smiled a little and closed his eyes, saying: "I'm tired." But he +immediately opened them again and looked up. + +"What is it?" asked Moore, smiling down into his eyes. + +"The Duke," the poor lips whispered. + +"He is coming," said Moore, confidently, though how he knew I could not +tell. But even as he spoke, looking out of the window, I saw Jingo come +swinging round the bluff. Bruce heard the beat of his hoofs, smiled, +opened his eyes and waited. The leap of joy in his eyes as The Duke came +in, clean, cool and fresh as the morning, went to my heart. + +Neither man said a word, but Bruce took hold of The Duke's hand in both +of his. He was fast growing weaker. I gave him brandy, and he recovered +a little strength. + +"I am dying, Duke," he said, quietly. "Promise you won't blame +yourself." + +"I can't, old man," said The Duke, with a shudder. "Would to heaven I +could." + +"You were too strong for me, and you didn't think, did you?" and the +weak voice had a caress in it. + +"No, no! God knows," said The Duke, hurriedly. + +There was a long silence, and again Bruce opened his eyes and whispered: + +"The Pilot." + +Moore came to him. + +"Read 'The Prodigal,'" he said faintly, and in Moore's clear, sweet +voice the music of that matchless story fell upon our ears. + +Again Bruce's eyes summoned me. I bent over him. + +"My letter," he said, faintly, "in my coat--" + +I brought to him the last letter from his mother. He held the envelope +before his eyes, then handed it to me, whispering: + +"Read." + +I opened the letter and looked at the words, "My darling Davie." My +tongue stuck and not a sound could I make. Moore put out his hand and +took it from me. The Duke rose to go out, calling me with his eyes, but +Bruce motioned him to stay, and he sat down and bowed his head, while +Moore read the letter. + +His tones were clear and steady till he came to the last words, when his +voice broke and ended in a sob: + +"And oh, Davie, laddie, if ever your heart turns home again, remember +the door is aye open, and it's joy you'll bring with you to us all." + +Bruce lay quite still, and, from his closed eyes, big tears ran down his +cheeks. It was his last farewell to her whose love had been to him the +anchor to all things pure here and to heaven beyond. + +He took the letter from Moore's hand, put it with difficulty to his +lips, and then, touching the open Bible, he said, between his breaths: + +"It's--very like--there's really--no fear, is there?" + +"No, no!" said Moore, with cheerful, confident voice, though his, tears +were flowing. "No fear of your welcome." + +His eyes met mine. I bent over him. "Tell her--" and his voice faded +away. + +"What shall I tell her?" I asked, trying to recall him. But the message +was never given. He moved one hand slowly toward The Duke till it +touched his head. The Duke lifted his face and looked down at him, and +then he did a beautiful thing for which I forgave him much. He stooped +over and kissed the lips grown so white, and then the brow. The light +came back into the eyes of the dying man, he smiled once more, and +smilingly faced toward the Great Beyond. And the morning air, fresh from +the sun-tipped mountains and sweet with the scent of the June roses, +came blowing soft and cool through the open window upon the dead, +smiling face. And it seemed fitting so. It came from the land of the +Morning. + +Again The Duke did a beautiful thing; for, reaching across his dead +friend, he offered his hand to The Pilot. "Mr. Moore," he said, +with fine courtesy, "you are a brave man and a good man; I ask your +forgiveness for much rudeness." + +But Moore only shook his head while he took the outstretched hand, and +said, brokenly: + +"Don't! I can't stand it." + +"The Company of the Noble Seven will meet no more," said The Duke, with +a faint smile. + +They did meet, however; but when they did, The Pilot was in the chair, +and it was not for poker. + +The Pilot had "got his grip," as Bill said. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GWEN + + +It was not many days after my arrival in the Foothill country that I +began to hear of Gwen. They all had stories of her. The details were not +many, but the impression was vivid. She lived remote from that centre of +civilization known as Swan Creek in the postal guide, but locally as +Old Latour's, far up among the hills near the Devil's Lake, and from her +father's ranch she never ventured. But some of the men had had glimpses +of her and had come to definite opinions regarding her. + +"What is she like?" I asked Bill one day, trying to pin him down to +something like a descriptive account of her. + +"Like! She's a terrer," he said, with slow emphasis, "a holy terrer." + +"But what is she like? What does she look like?" I asked impatiently. + +"Look like?" He considered a moment, looked slowly round as if searching +for a simile, then answered: "I dunno." + +"Don't know? What do you mean? Haven't you seen her?" + +"Yeh! But she ain't like nothin'." + +Bill was quite decided upon this point. + +I tried again. + +"Well, what sort of hair has she got? She's got hair, I suppose?" + +"Hayer! Well, a few!" said Bill, with some choice combinations of +profanity in repudiation of my suggestion. "Yards of it! Red!" + +"Git out!" contradicted Hi. "Red! Tain't no more red than mine!" + +Bill regarded Hi's hair critically. + +"What color do you put onto your old brush?" he asked cautiously. + +"'Tain't no difference. 'Tain't red, anyhow." + +"Red! Well, not quite exactly," and Bill went off into a low, long, +choking chuckle, ejaculating now and then, "Red! Jee-mi-ny Ann! Red!" + +"No, Hi," he went on, recovering himself with the same abruptness as he +used with his bronco, and looking at his friend with a face even more +than usually solemn, "your hayer ain't red, Hi; don't let any of your +relatives persuade you to that. 'Tain't red!" and he threatened to go +off again, but pulled himself up with dangerous suddenness. "It may be +blue, cerulyum blue or even purple, but red--!" He paused violently, +looking at his friend as if he found him a new and interesting object +of study upon which he could not trust himself to speak. Nor could he be +induced to proceed with the description he had begun. + +But Hi, paying no attention to Bill's oration, took up the subject with +enthusiasm. + +"She kin ride--she's a reg'lar buster to ride, ain't she, Bill?" Bill +nodded. "She kin bunch cattle an' cut out an' yank a steer up to any +cowboy on the range." + +"Why, how big is she?" + +"Big? Why, she's just a kid! 'Tain't the bigness of her, it's the nerve. +She's got the coldest kind of nerve you ever seen. Hain't she, Bill?" +And again Bill nodded. + +"'Member the day she dropped that steer, Bill?" went on Hi. + +"What was that?" I asked, eager for a yarn. + +"Oh, nuthin'," said Bill. + +"Nuthin'!" retorted Hi. "Pretty big nuthin'!" + +"What was it?" I urged. + +"Oh, Bill here did some funny work at old Meredith's round-up, but he +don't speak of it. He's shy, you see," and Hi grinned. + +"Well, there ain't no occasion for your proceedin' onto that tact," said +Bill disgustedly, and Hi loyally refrained, so I have never yet got the +rights of the story. But from what I did hear I gathered that Bill, at +the risk of his life, had pulled The Duke from under the hoofs of a mad +steer, and that little Gwen had, in the coolest possible manner, "sailed +in on her bronco" and, by putting two bullets into the steer's head, had +saved them both from great danger, perhaps from death, for the rest of +the cattle were crowding near. Of course Bill could never be persuaded +to speak of the incident. A true western man will never hesitate to tell +you what he can do, but of what he has done he does not readily speak. + +The only other item that Hi contributed to the sketch of Gwen was that +her temper could blaze if the occasion demanded. + +"'Member young Hill, Bill?" + +Bill "'membered." + +"Didn't she cut into him sudden? Sarved him right, too." + +"What did she do?" + +"Cut him across the face with her quirt in good style." + +"What for?" + +"Knockin' about her Indian Joe." + +Joe was, as I came to learn, Ponka's son and Gwen's most devoted slave. + +"Oh, she ain't no refrigerator." + +"Yes," assented Bill. "She's a leetle swift." Then, as if fearing he +had been apologizing for her, he added, with the air of one settling the +question: "But she's good stock! She suits me!" + +The Duke helped me to another side of her character. + +"She is a remarkable child," he said, one day. "Wild and shy as +a coyote, but fearless, quite; and with a heart full of passions. +Meredith, the Old Timer, you know, has kept her up there among the +hills. She sees no one but himself and Ponka's Blackfeet relations, who +treat her like a goddess and help to spoil her utterly. She knows their +lingo and their ways--goes off with them for a week at a time." + +"What! With the Blackfeet?" + +"Ponka and Joe, of course, go along; but even without them she is as +safe as if surrounded by the Coldstream Guards, but she has given them +up for some time now." + +"And at home?" I asked. "Has she any education? Can she read or write?" + +"Not she. She can make her own dresses, moccasins and leggings. She can +cook and wash--that is, when she feels in the mood. And she knows +all about the birds and beasts and flowers and that sort of thing, +but--education! Why, she is hardly civilized!" + +"What a shame!" I said. "How old is she?" + +"Oh, a mere child; fourteen or fifteen, I imagine; but a woman in many +things." + +"And what does her father say to all this? Can he control her?" + +"Control!" said The Duke, in utter astonishment. "Why, bless your soul, +nothing in heaven or earth could control HER. Wait till you see her +stand with her proud little head thrown back, giving orders to Joe, and +you will never again connect the idea of control with Gwen. She might +be a princess for the pride of her. I've seen some, too, in my day, but +none to touch her for sheer, imperial pride, little Lucifer that she +is." + +"And how does her father stand her nonsense?" I asked, for I confess I +was not much taken with the picture The Duke had drawn. + +"Her father simply follows behind her and adores, as do all things that +come near her, down, or up, perhaps, to her two dogs--Wolf and Loo--for +either of which she would readily die if need be. Still," he added, +after a pause, "it IS a shame, as you say. She ought to know something +of the refinements of civilization, to which, after all, she belongs, +and from which none of us can hope to escape." The Duke was silent for +a few moments, and then added, with some hesitation: "Then, too, she is +quite a pagan; never saw a prayer-book, you know." + +And so it came about, chiefly through The Duke's influence, I imagine, +that I was engaged by the Old Timer to go up to his ranch every week and +teach his daughter something of the elementaries of a lady's education. + +My introduction was ominous of the many things I was to suffer of that +same young maiden before I had finished my course with her. The Old +Timer had given careful directions as to the trail that would lead me to +the canyon where he was to meet me. Up the Swan went the trail, winding +ever downward into deeper and narrower coulees and up to higher open +sunlit slopes, till suddenly it settled into a valley which began with +great width and narrowed to a canyon whose rocky sides were dressed out +with shrubs and trailing vines and wet with trickling rivulets from the +numerous springs that oozed and gushed from the black, glistening rocks. +This canyon was an eerie place of which ghostly tales were told from +the old Blackfeet times. And to this day no Blackfoot will dare to pass +through this black-walled, oozy, glistening canyon after the moon has +passed the western lip. But in the warm light of broad day the canyon +was a good enough place; cool and sweet, and I lingered through, waiting +for the Old Timer, who failed to appear till the shadows began to darken +its western black sides. + +Out of the mouth of the canyon the trail climbed to a wide stretch of +prairie that swept up over soft hills to the left and down to the bright +gleaming waters of the Devil's Lake on the right. In the sunlight the +lake lay like a gem radiant with many colors, the far side black in the +shadow of the crowding pines, then in the middle deep, blue and purple, +and nearer, many shades of emerald that ran quite to the white, sandy +beach. Right in front stood the ranch buildings, upon a slight rising +ground and surrounded by a sturdy palisade of upright pointed poles. +This was the castle of the princess. I rode up to the open gate, then +turned and stood to look down upon the marvellous lake shining and +shimmering with its many radiant colors. Suddenly there was an awful +roar, my pony shot round upon his hind legs after his beastly cayuse +manner, deposited me sitting upon the ground and fled down the trail, +pursued by two huge dogs that brushed past me as I fell. I was aroused +from my amazement by a peal of laughter, shrill but full of music. +Turning, I saw my pupil, as I guessed, standing at the head of a most +beautiful pinto (spotted) pony with a heavy cattle quirt in her hand. I +scrambled to my feet and said, somewhat angrily, I fear: + +"What are you laughing at? Why don't you call back your dogs? They will +chase my pony beyond all reach." + +She lifted her little head, shook back her masses of brown-red hair, +looked at me as if I were quite beneath contempt and said: "No, they +will kill him." + +"Then," said I, for I was very angry, "I will kill them," pulling at the +revolver in my belt. + +"Then," she said, and for the first time I noticed her eyes blue-black, +with gray rims, "I will kill you," and she whipped out an ugly-looking +revolver. From her face I had no doubt that she would not hesitate to do +as she had said. I changed my tactics, for I was anxious about my pony, +and said, with my best smile: + +"Can't you call them back? Won't they obey you?" + +Her face changed in a moment. + +"Is it your pony? Do you love him very much?" + +"Dearly!" I said, persuading myself of a sudden affection for the cranky +little brute. + +She sprang upon her pinto and set off down the trail. The pony was now +coursing up and down the slopes, doubling like a hare, instinctively +avoiding the canyon where he would be cornered. He was mad with terror +at the huge brutes that were silently but with awful and sure swiftness +running him down. + +The girl on the pinto whistled shrilly, and called to her dogs: "Down, +Wolf! Back, Loo!" but, running low, with long, stretched bodies, they +heeded not, but sped on, ever gaining upon the pony that now circled +toward the pinto. As they drew near in their circling, the girl urged +her pinto to meet them, loosening her lariat as she went. As the pony +neared the pinto he slackened his speed; immediately the nearer dog +gathered herself in two short jumps and sprang for the pony's throat. +But, even as she sprang, the lariat whirled round the girl's head +and fell swift and sure about the dog's neck, and next moment she lay +choking upon the prairie. Her mate paused, looked back, and gave up the +chase. But dire vengeance overtook them, for, like one possessed, the +girl fell upon them with her quirt and beat them one after the other +till, in pity for the brutes, I interposed. + +"They shall do as I say or I shall kill them! I shall kill them!" she +cried, raging and stamping. + +"Better shoot them," I suggested, pulling out my pistol. + +Immediately she flung herself upon the one that moaned and whined at her +feet, crying: + +"If you dare! If you dare!" Then she burst into passionate sobbing. +"You bad Loo! You bad, dear old Loo! But you WERE bad--you KNOW you +were bad!" and so she went on with her arms about Loo's neck till Loo, +whining and quivering with love and delight, threatened to go quite +mad, and Wolf, standing majestically near, broke into short howls of +impatience for his turn of caressing. They made a strange group, those +three wild things, equally fierce and passionate in hate and in love. + +Suddenly the girl remembered me, and standing up she said, half ashamed: + +"They always obey ME. They are MINE, but they kill any strange thing +that comes in through the gate. They are allowed to." + +"It is a pleasant whim." + +"What?" + +"I mean, isn't that dangerous to strangers?" + +"Oh, no one ever comes alone, except The Duke. And they keep off the +wolves." + +"The Duke comes, does he?" + +"Yes!" and her eyes lit up. "He is my friend. He calls me his +'princess,' and he teaches me to talk and tells me stories--oh, +wonderful stories!" + +I looked in wonder at her face, so gentle, so girlish, and tried to +think back to the picture of the girl who a few moments before had so +coolly threatened to shoot me and had so furiously beaten her dogs. + +I kept her talking of The Duke as we walked back to the gate, watching +her face the while. It was not beautiful; it was too thin, and the mouth +was too large. But the teeth were good, and the eyes, blue-black with +gray rims, looked straight at you; true eyes and brave, whether in love +or in war. Her hair was her glory. Red it was, in spite of Hi's denial, +but of such marvellous, indescribable shade that in certain lights, as +she rode over the prairie, it streamed behind her like a purple banner. +A most confusing and bewildering color, but quite in keeping with the +nature of the owner. + +She gave her pinto to Joe and, standing at the door, welcomed me with +a dignity and graciousness that made me think that The Duke was not far +wrong when he named her "Princess." + +The door opened upon the main or living room. It was a long, apartment, +with low ceiling and walls of hewn logs chinked and plastered and all +beautifully whitewashed and clean. The tables, chairs and benches were +all home-made. On the floor were magnificent skins of wolf, bear, musk +ox and mountain goat. The walls were decorated with heads and horns of +deer and mountain sheep, eagles' wings and a beautiful breast of a loon, +which Gwen had shot and of which she was very proud. At one end of the +room a huge stone fireplace stood radiant in its summer decorations of +ferns and grasses and wild-flowers. At the other end a door opened +into another room, smaller and richly furnished with relics of former +grandeur. + +Everything was clean and well kept. Every nook, shelf and corner was +decked with flowers and ferns from the canyon. + +A strange house it was, full of curious contrasts, but it fitted this +quaint child that welcomed me with such gracious courtesy. + + + +CHAPTER X + +GWEN'S FIRST PRAYERS + + +It was with hesitation, almost with fear, that I began with Gwen; but +even had I been able to foresee the endless series of exasperations +through which she was destined to conduct me, still would I have +undertaken my task. For the child, with all her wilfulness, her tempers +and her pride, made me, as she did all others, her willing slave. + +Her lessons went on, brilliantly or not at all, according to her sweet +will. She learned to read with extraordinary rapidity, for she was eager +to know more of that great world of which The Duke had told her such +thrilling tales. Writing she abhorred. She had no one to write to. Why +should she cramp her fingers over these crooked little marks? But she +mastered with hardly a struggle the mysteries of figures, for she would +have to sell her cattle, and "dad doesn't know when they are cheating." +Her ideas of education were purely utilitarian, and what did not appear +immediately useful she refused to trifle with. And so all through the +following long winter she vexed my righteous soul with her wilfulness +and pride. An appeal to her father was idle. She would wind her long, +thin arms about his neck and let her waving red hair float over him +until the old man was quite helpless to exert authority. The Duke could +do most with her. To please him she would struggle with her crooked +letters for an hour at a time, but even his influence and authority had +its limits. + +"Must I?" she said one day, in answer to a demand of his for more +faithful study; "must I?" And throwing up her proud little head, and +shaking back with a trick she had her streaming red hair, she looked +straight at him from her blue-gray eyes and asked the monosyllabic +question, "Why?" And The Duke looked back at her with his slight smile +for a few moments and then said in cold, even tones: + +"I really don't know why," and turned his back on her. Immediately she +sprang at him, shook him by the arm, and, quivering with passion, cried: + +"You are not to speak to me like that, and you are not to turn your back +that way!" + +"What a little princess it is," he said admiringly, "and what a time she +will give herself some day!" Then he added, smiling sadly: "Was I rude, +Gwen? Then I am sorry." Her rage was gone, and she looked as if she +could have held him by the feet. As it was, too proud to show her +feelings, she just looked at him with softening eyes, and then sat down +to the work she had refused. This was after the advent of The Pilot at +Swan Creek, and, as The Duke rode home with me that night, after long +musing he said with hesitation: "She ought to have some religion, poor +child; she will grow up a perfect little devil. The Pilot might be of +service if you could bring him up. Women need that sort of thing; it +refines, you know." + +"Would she have him?" I asked. + +"Question," he replied, doubtfully. "You might suggest it." + +Which I did, introducing somewhat clumsily, I fear, The Duke's name. + +"The Duke says he is to make me good!" she cried. "I won't have him, I +hate him and you too!" And for that day she disdained all lessons, and +when The Duke next appeared she greeted him with the exclamation, "I +won't have your old Pilot, and I don't want to be good, and--and--you +think he's no good yourself," at which the Duke opened his eyes. + +"How do you know? I never said so!" + +"You laughed at him to dad one day." + +"Did I?" said The Duke, gravely. "Then I hasten to assure, you that I +have changed my mind. He is a good, brave man." + +"He falls off his horse," she said, with contempt. + +"I rather think he sticks on now," replied The Duke, repressing a smile. + +"Besides," she went on, "he's just a kid; Bill said so." + +"Well, he might be more ancient," acknowledged The Duke, "but in that he +is steadily improving." + +"Anyway," with an air of finality, "he is not to come here." + +But he did come, and under her own escort, one threatening August +evening. + +"I found him in the creek," she announced, with defiant shamefacedness, +marching in The Pilot half drowned. + +"I think I could have crossed," he said, apologetically, "for Louis was +getting on his feet again." + +"No, you wouldn't," she protested. "You would have been down into the +canyon by now, and you ought to be thankful." + +"So I am," he hastened to say, "very! But," he added, unwilling to give +up his contention, "I have crossed the Swan before." + +"Not when it was in flood." + +"Yes, when it was in flood, higher than now." + +"Not where the banks are rocky." + +"No-o!" he hesitated. + +"There, then, you WOULD have been drowned but for my lariat!" she cried, +triumphantly. + +To this he doubtfully assented. + +They were much alike, in high temper, in enthusiasm, in vivid +imagination, and in sensitive feeling. When the Old Timer came in Gwen +triumphantly introduced The Pilot as having been rescued from a watery +grave by her lariat, and again they fought out the possibilities +of drowning and of escape till Gwen almost lost her temper, and was +appeased only by the most profuse expressions of gratitude on the part +of The Pilot for her timely assistance. The Old Timer was perplexed. He +was afraid to offend Gwen and yet unwilling to be cordial to her guest. +The Pilot was quick to feel this, and, soon after tea, rose to go. +Gwen's disappointment showed in her face. + +"Ask him to stay, dad," she said, in a whisper. But the half-hearted +invitation acted like a spur, and The Pilot was determined to set off. + +"There's a bad storm coming," she said; "and besides," she added, +triumphantly "you can't cross the Swan." + +This settled it, and the most earnest prayers of the Old Timer could not +have held him back. + +We all went down to see him cross, Gwen leading her pinto. The Swan was +far over its banks, and in the middle running swift and strong. +Louis snorted, refused and finally plunged. Bravely he swam, till the +swift-running water struck him, and over he went on his side, throwing +his rider into the water. But The Pilot kept his head, and, holding +by the stirrups, paddled along by Louis' side. When they were half-way +across Louis saw that he had no chance of making the landing; so, like +a sensible horse, he turned and made for the shore. Here, too, the banks +were high, and the pony began to grow discouraged. + +"Let him float down further!" shrieked Gwen, in anxious excitement; and, +urging her pinto down the bank, she coaxed the struggling pony down the +stream till opposite a shelf of rock level with the high water. Then she +threw her lariat, and, catching Louis about the neck and the horn of +his saddle, she held taut, till, half drowned, he scrambled up the bank, +dragging The Pilot with him. + +"Oh, I'm so glad!" she said, almost tearfully. "You see, you couldn't +get across." + +The Pilot staggered to his feet, took a step toward her, gasped out: + +"I can!" and pitched headlong. With a little cry she flew to him, and +turned him over on his back. In a few moments he revived, sat up, and +looked about stupidly. + +"Where's Louis?" he said, with his face toward the swollen stream. + +"Safe enough," she answered; "but you must come in, the rain is just +going to pour." + +But The Pilot seemed possessed. + +"No, I'm going across," he said, rising. + +Gwen was greatly distressed. + +"But your poor horse," she said, cleverly changing her ground; "he is +quite tired out." + +The Old Timer now joined earnestly in urging him to stay till the storm +was past. So, with a final look at the stream, The Pilot turned toward +the house. + +Of course I knew what would happen. Before the evening was over he had +captured the household. The moment he appeared with dry things on he ran +to the organ, that had stood for ten years closed and silent, opened +it and began to play. As he played and sang song after song, the Old +Timer's eyes began to glisten under his shaggy brows. But when he +dropped into the exquisite Irish melody, "Oft in the Stilly Night," the +old man drew a hard breath and groaned out to me: + +"It was her mother's song," and from that time The Pilot had him fast. +It was easy to pass to the old hymn, "Nearer, My God, to Thee," and then +The Pilot said simply, "May we have prayers?" He looked at Gwen, but she +gazed blankly at him and then at her father. + +"What does he say, dad?" + +It was pitiful to see the old man's face grow slowly red under the deep +tan, as he said: + +"You may, sir. There's been none here for many years, and the worse for +us." He rose slowly, went into the inner room and returned with a Bible. + +"It's her mother's," he said, in a voice deep with emotion. "I put it +in her trunk the day I laid her out yonder under the pines." The Pilot, +without looking at him, rose and reverently took the book in both his +hands and said gently: + +"It was a sad day for you, but for her--" He paused. "You did not grudge +it to her?" + +"Not now, but then, yes! I wanted her, we needed her." The Old Timer's +tears were flowing. + +The Pilot put his hand caressingly upon the old man's shoulder as if he +had been his father, and said in his clear, sweet voice, "Some day you +will go to her." + +Upon this scene poor Gwen gazed with eyes wide open with amazement and +a kind of fear. She had never seen her father weep since the awful day +that she could never forget, when he had knelt in dumb agony beside the +bed on which her mother lay white and still; nor would he heed her till, +climbing up, she tried to make her mother waken and hear her cries. Then +he had caught her up in his arms, pressing her with tears and great sobs +to his heart. To-night she seemed to feel that something was wrong. She +went and stood by her father, and, stroking his gray hair kindly, she +said: + +"What is he saying, daddy? Is he making you cry?" She looked at The +Pilot defiantly. + +"No, no, child," said the old man, hastily, "sit here and listen." + +And while the storm raved outside we three sat listening to that ancient +story of love ineffable. And, as the words fell like sweet music upon +our ears, the old man sat with eyes that looked far away, while the +child listened with devouring eagerness. + +"Is it a fairy tale, daddy?" she asked, as The Pilot paused. "It isn't +true, is it?" and her voice had a pleading note hard for the old man to +bear. + +"Yes, yes, my child," said he, brokenly. "God forgive me!" + +"Of course it's true," said The Pilot, quickly. "I'll read it all to you +to-morrow. It's a beautiful story!" + +"No," she said, imperiously, "to-night. Read it now! Go on!" she said, +stamping her foot, "don't you hear me?" + +The Pilot gazed in surprise at her, and then turning to the old man, +said: + +"Shall I?" + +The Old Timer simply nodded and the reading went on. Those were not my +best days, and the faith of my childhood was not as it had been; but, as +The Pilot carried us through those matchless scenes of self-forgetting +love and service the rapt wonder in the child's face as she listened, +the appeal in her voice as, now to her father, and now to me, she +cried: "Is THAT true, too? Is it ALL true?" made it impossible for me +to hesitate in my answer. And I was glad to find it easy to give my firm +adherence to the truth of all that tale of wonder. And, as more and more +it grew upon The Pilot that the story he was reading, so old to him and +to all he had ever met, was new to one in that listening group, his face +began to glow and his eyes to blaze, and he saw and showed me things +that night I had never seen before, nor have I seen them since. The +great figure of the Gospels lived, moved before our eyes. We saw Him +bend to touch the blind, we heard Him speak His marvellous teaching, we +felt the throbbing excitement of the crowds that pressed against Him. + +Suddenly The Pilot stopped, turned over the leaves and began again: "And +He led them out as far as to Bethany. And He lifted up His hands and +blessed them. And it came to pass as He blessed them He was parted from +them and a cloud received Him out of their sight." There was silence for +some minutes, then Gwen said: + +"Where did He go?" + +"Up into Heaven," answered The Pilot, simply. + +"That's where mother is," she said to her father, who nodded in reply. + +"Does He know?" she asked. The old man looked distressed. + +"Of course He does," said The Pilot, "and she sees Him all the time." + +"Oh, daddy!" she cried, "isn't that good?" + +But the old man only hid his face in his hands and groaned. + +"Yes," went on The Pilot, "and He sees us, too, and hears us speak, and +knows our thoughts." + +Again the look of wonder and fear came into her eyes, but she said no +word. The experiences of the evening had made the world new to her. It +could never be the same to her again. It gave me a queer feeling to see +her, when we three kneeled to pray, stand helplessly looking on, not +knowing what to do, then sink beside her father, and, winding her arms +about his neck, cling to him as the words of prayer were spoken into the +ear of Him whom no man can see, but who we believe is near to all that +call upon Him. + +Those were Gwen's first "prayers," and in them Gwen's part was small, +for fear and wonder filled her heart; but the day was to come, and all +too soon, when she should have to pour out her soul with strong crying +and tears. That day came and passed, but the story of it is not to be +told here. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GWEN'S CHALLENGE + + +Gwen was undoubtedly wild and, as The Sky Pilot said, wilful and wicked. +Even Bronco Bill and Hi Kendal would say so, without, of course, abating +one jot of their admiration for her. For fourteen years she had lived +chiefly with wild things. The cattle on the range, wild as deer, the +coyotes, the jack-rabbits and the timber wolves were her mates and her +instructors. From these she learned her wild ways. The rolling prairie +of the Foothill country was her home. She loved it and all things that +moved upon it with passionate love, the only kind she was capable of. +And all summer long she spent her days riding up and down the range +alone, or with her father, or with Joe, or, best of all, with The +Duke, her hero and her friend. So she grew up strong, wholesome and +self-reliant, fearing nothing alive and as untamed as a yearling range +colt. + +She was not beautiful. The winds and sun had left her no complexion to +speak of, but the glory of her red hair, gold-red, with purple sheen, +nothing could tarnish. Her eyes, too, deep blue with rims of gray, that +flashed with the glint of steel or shone with melting light as of the +stars, according to her mood--those Irish, warm, deep eyes of hers were +worth a man's looking at. + +Of course, all spoiled her. Ponka and her son Joe grovelled in abjectest +adoration, while her father and all who came within touch of her simply +did her will. Even The Duke, who loved her better than anything else, +yielded lazy, admiring homage to his Little Princess, and certainly, +when she stood straight up with her proud little gold-crowned head +thrown back, flashing forth wrath or issuing imperious commands, she +looked a princess, all of her. + +It was a great day and a good day for her when she fished The Sky Pilot +out of the Swan and brought him home, and the night of Gwen's first +"prayers," when she heard for the first time the story of the Man of +Nazareth, was the best of all her nights up to that time. All through +the winter, under The Pilot's guidance, she, with her father, the Old +Timer, listening near, went over and over that story so old now to many, +but ever becoming new, till a whole new world of mysterious Powers +and Presences lay open to her imagination and became the home of great +realities. She was rich in imagination and, when The Pilot read Bunyan's +immortal poem, her mother's old "Pilgrim's Progress," she moved and +lived beside the hero of that tale, backing him up in his fights and +consumed with anxiety over his many impending perils, till she had him +safely across the river and delivered into the charge of the shining +ones. + +The Pilot himself, too, was a new and wholesome experience. He was the +first thing she had yet encountered that refused submission, and the +first human being that had failed to fall down and worship. There was +something in him that would not ALWAYS yield, and, indeed, her pride +and her imperious tempers he met with surprise and sometimes with a pity +that verged toward contempt. With this she was not well pleased and not +infrequently she broke forth upon him. One of these outbursts is stamped +upon my mind, not only because of its unusual violence, but chiefly +because of the events which followed. The original cause of her rage was +some trifling misdeed of the unfortunate Joe; but when I came upon the +scene it was The Pilot who was occupying her attention. The expression +of surprise and pity on his face appeared to stir her up. + +"How dare you look at me like that?" she cried. + +"How very extraordinary that you can't keep hold of yourself better!" he +answered. + +"I can!" she stamped, "and I shall do as I like!" + +"It is a great pity," he said, with provoking calm, "and besides, it is +weak and silly." His words were unfortunate. + +"Weak!" she gasped, when her breath came back to her. "Weak!" + +"Yes," he said, "very weak and childish." + +Then she could have cheerfully put him to a slow and cruel death. When +she had recovered a little she cried vehemently: + +"I'm not weak! I'm strong! I'm stronger than you are! I'm strong +as--as--a man!" + +I do not suppose she meant the insinuation; at any rate The Pilot +ignored it and went on. + +"You're not strong enough to keep your temper down." And then, as she +had no reply ready, he went on, "And really, Gwen, it is not right. You +must not go on in this way." + +Again his words were unfortunate. + +"MUST NOT!" she cried, adding an inch to her height. "Who says so?" + +"God!" was the simple, short answer. + +She was greatly taken back, and gave a quick glance over her shoulder as +if to see Him, who would dare to say MUST NOT to her; but, recovering, +she answered sullenly: + +"I don't care!" + +"Don't care for God?" The Pilot's voice was quiet and solemn, but +something in his manner angered her, and she blazed forth again. + +"I don't care for anyone, and I SHALL do as I like." + +The Pilot looked at her sadly for a moment, and then said slowly: + +"Some day, Gwen, you will not be able to do as you like." + +I remember well the settled defiance in her tone and manner as she took +a step nearer him and answered in a voice trembling with passion: + +"Listen! I have always done as I like, and I shall do as I like till I +die!" And she rushed forth from the house and down toward the canyon, +her refuge from all disturbing things, and chiefly from herself. + +I could not shake off the impression her words made upon me. "Pretty +direct, that," I said to The Pilot, as we rode away. "The declaration +may be philosophically correct, but it rings uncommonly like a challenge +to the Almighty. Throws down the gauntlet, so to speak." + +But The Pilot only said, "Don't! How can you?" + +Within a week her challenge was accepted, and how fiercely and how +gallantly did she struggle to make it good! + +It was The Duke that brought me the news, and as he told me the story +his gay, careless self-command for once was gone. For in the gloom +of the canyon where he overtook me I could see his face gleaming out +ghastly white, and even his iron nerve could not keep the tremor from +his voice. + +"I've just sent up the doctor," was his answer to my greeting. "I looked +for you last night, couldn't find you, and so rode off to the Fort." + +"What's up?" I said, with fear in my heart, for no light thing moved The +Duke. + +"Haven't you heard? It's Gwen," he said, and the next minute or two he +gave to Jingo, who was indulging in a series of unexpected plunges. When +Jingo was brought down, The Duke was master of himself and told his tale +with careful self-control. + +Gwen, on her father's buckskin bronco, had gone with The Duke to the big +plain above the cut-bank where Joe was herding the cattle. The day +was hot and a storm was in the air. They found Joe riding up and down, +singing to keep the cattle quiet, but having a hard time to hold the +bunch from breaking. While The Duke was riding around the far side of +the bunch, a cry from Gwen arrested his attention. Joe was in trouble. +His horse, a half-broken cayuse, had stumbled into a badger-hole and had +bolted, leaving Joe to the mercy of the cattle. At once they began to +sniff suspiciously at this phenomenon, a man on foot, and to follow +cautiously on his track. Joe kept his head and walked slowly out, till +all at once a young cow began to bawl and to paw the ground. In another +minute one, and then another of the cattle began to toss their heads and +bunch and bellow till the whole herd of two hundred were after Joe. +Then Joe lost his head and ran. Immediately the whole herd broke into a +thundering gallop with heads and tails aloft and horns rattling like the +loading of a regiment of rifles. + +"Two more minutes," said The Duke, "would have done for Joe, for I could +never have reached him; but, in spite of my most frantic warnings and +signalings, right into the face of that mad, bellowing, thundering +mass of steers rode that little girl. Nerve! I have some myself, but I +couldn't have done it. She swung her horse round Joe and sailed out with +him, with the herd bellowing at the tail of her bronco. I've seen some +cavalry things in my day, but for sheer cool bravery nothing touches +that." + +"How did it end? Did they run them down?" I asked, with terror at such a +result. + +"No, they crowded her toward the cut-bank, and she was edging them off +and was almost past, when they came to a place where the bank bit in, +and her iron-mouthed brute wouldn't swerve, but went pounding on, broke +through, plunged; she couldn't spring free because of Joe, and pitched +headlong over the bank, while the cattle went thundering past. I flung +myself off Jingo and slid down somehow into the sand, thirty feet below. +Here was Joe safe enough, but the bronco lay with a broken leg, and half +under him was Gwen. She hardly knew she was hurt, but waved her hand to +me and cried out, 'Wasn't that a race? I couldn't swing this hard-headed +brute. Get me out.' But even as she spoke the light faded from her eyes, +she stretched out her hands to me, saying faintly, 'Oh, Duke,' and lay +back white and still. We put a bullet into the buckskin's head, and +carried her home in our jackets, and there she lies without a sound from +her poor, white lips." + +The Duke was badly cut up. I had never seen him show any sign of grief +before, but as he finished the story he stood ghastly and shaking. He +read my surprise in my face and said: + +"Look here, old chap, don't think me quite a fool. You can't know what +that little girl has done for me these years. Her trust in me--it is +extraordinary how utterly she trusts me--somehow held me up to my best +and back from perdition. It is the one bright spot in my life in this +blessed country. Everyone else thinks me a pleasant or unpleasant kind +of fiend." + +I protested rather faintly. + +"Oh, don't worry your conscience," he answered, with a slight return +of his old smile, "a fuller knowledge would only justify the opinion." +Then, after a pause, he added: "But if Gwen goes, I must pull out, I +could not stand it." + +As we rode up, the doctor came out. + +"Well, what do you think?" asked The Duke. + +"Can't say yet," replied the old doctor, gruff with long army practice, +"bad enough. Good night." + +But The Duke's hand fell upon his shoulder with a grip that must have +got to the bone, and in a husky voice he asked: + +"Will she live?" + +The doctor squirmed, but could not shake off that crushing grip. + +"Here, you young tiger, let go! What do you think I am made of?" he +cried, angrily. "I didn't suppose I was coming to a bear's den, or I +should have brought a gun." + +It was only by the most complete apology that The Duke could mollify the +old doctor sufficiently to get his opinion. + +"No, she will not die! Great bit of stuff! Better she should die, +perhaps! But can't say yet for two weeks. Now remember," he added +sharply, looking into The Duke's woe-stricken face, "her spirits must be +kept up. I have lied most fully and cheerfully to them inside; you must +do the same," and the doctor strode away, calling out: + +"Joe! Here, Joe! Where is he gone? Joe, I say! Extraordinary selection +Providence makes at times; we could have spared that lazy half-breed +with pleasure! Joe! Oh, here you are! Where in thunder--" But here the +doctor stopped abruptly. The agony in the dark face before him was too +much even for the bluff doctor. Straight and stiff Joe stood by the +horse's head till the doctor had mounted, then with a great effort he +said: + +"Little miss, she go dead?" + +"Dead!" called out the doctor, glancing at the open window. "Why, +bless your old copper carcass, no! Gwen will show you yet how to rope a +steer." + +Joe took a step nearer, and lowering his tone said: + +"You speak me true? Me man, Me no papoose." The piercing black eyes +searched the doctor's face. The doctor hesitated a moment, and then, +with an air of great candor, said cheerily: + +"That's all right, Joe. Miss Gwen will cut circles round your old cayuse +yet. But remember," and the doctor was very impressive, "you must make +her laugh every day." + +Joe folded his arms across his breast and stood like a statue till the +doctor rode away; then turning to us he grunted out: + +"Him good man, eh?" + +"Good man," answered The Duke, adding, "but remember, Joe, what he told +you to do. Must make her laugh every day." + +Poor Joe! Humor was not his forte, and his attempt in this direction +in the weeks that followed would have been humorous were they not so +pathetic. How I did my part I cannot tell. Those weeks are to me now +like the memory of an ugly nightmare. The ghostly old man moving out +and in of his little daughter's room in useless, dumb agony; Ponka's +woe-stricken Indian face; Joe's extraordinary and unusual but loyal +attempts at fun-making grotesquely sad, and The Duke's unvarying and +invincible cheeriness; these furnish light and shade for the picture my +memory brings me of Gwen in those days. + +For the first two weeks she was simply heroic. She bore her pain without +a groan, submitted to the imprisonment which was harder than pain with +angelic patience. Joe, The Duke and I carried out our instructions with +careful exactness to the letter. She never doubted, and we never let her +doubt but that in a few weeks she would be on the pinto's back again and +after the cattle. She made us pass our word for this till it seemed as +if she must have read the falsehoods on our brows. + +"To lie cheerfully with her eyes upon one's face calls for more than I +possess," said The Duke one day. "The doctor should supply us tonics. It +is an arduous task." + +And she believed us absolutely, and made plans for the fall "round-up," +and for hunts and rides till one's heart grew sick. As to the ethical +problem involved, I decline to express an opinion, but we had no need +to wait for our punishment. Her trust in us, her eager and confident +expectation of the return of her happy, free, outdoor life; these +brought to us, who knew how vain they were, their own adequate +punishment for every false assurance we gave. And how bright and brave +she was those first days! How resolute to get back to the world of air +and light outside! + +But she had need of all her brightness and courage and resolution before +she was done with her long fight. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +GWEN'S CANYON + + +Gwen's hope and bright courage, in spite of all her pain, were wonderful +to witness. But all this cheery hope and courage and patience snuffed +out as a candle, leaving noisome darkness to settle down in that +sick-room from the day of the doctor's consultation. + +The verdict was clear and final. The old doctor, who loved Gwen as his +own, was inclined to hope against hope, but Fawcett, the clever young +doctor from the distant town, was positive in his opinion. The scene is +clear to me now, after many years. We three stood in the outer room; The +Duke and her father were with Gwen. So earnest was the discussion that +none of us heard the door open just as young Fawcett was saying in +incisive tones: + +"No! I can see no hope. The child can never walk again." + +There was a cry behind us. + +"What! Never walk again! It's a lie!" There stood the Old Timer, white, +fierce, shaking. + +"Hush!" said the old doctor, pointing at the open door. He was too late. +Even as he spoke, there came from the inner room a wild, unearthly +cry as of some dying thing and, as we stood gazing at one another with +awe-stricken faces, we heard Gwen's voice as in quick, sharp pain. + +"Daddy! daddy! come! What do they say? Tell me, daddy. It is not true! +It is not true! Look at me, daddy!" + +She pulled up her father's haggard face from the bed. + +"Oh, daddy, daddy, you know it's true. Never walk again!" + +She turned with a pitiful cry to The Duke, who stood white and stiff +with arms drawn tight across his breast on the other side of the bed. + +"Oh, Duke, did you hear them? You told me to be brave, and I tried not +to cry when they hurt me. But I can't be brave! Can I, Duke? Oh, Duke! +Never to ride again!" + +She stretched out her hands to him. But The Duke, leaning over her and +holding her hands fast in his, could only say brokenly over and over: +"Don't, Gwen! Don't, Gwen dear!" + +But the pitiful, pleading voice went on. + +"Oh, Duke! Must I always lie here? Must, I? Why must I?" + +"God knows," answered The Duke bitterly, under his breath, "I don't!" + +She caught at the word. + +"Does He?" she cried, eagerly. Then she paused suddenly, turned to me +and said: "Do you remember he said some day I could not do as I liked?" + +I was puzzled. + +"The Pilot," she cried, impatiently, "don't you remember? And I said I +should do as I liked till I died." + +I nodded my head and said: "But you know you didn't mean it." + +"But I did, and I do," she cried, with passionate vehemence, "and I will +do as I like! I will not lie here! I will ride! I will! I will! I will!" +and she struggled up, clenched her fists, and sank back faint and weak. +It was not a pleasant sight, but gruesome. Her rage against that Unseen +Omnipotence was so defiant and so helpless. + +Those were dreadful weeks to Gwen and to all about her. The constant +pain could not break her proud spirit; she shed no tears; but she +fretted and chafed and grew more imperiously exacting every day. Ponka +and Joe she drove like a slave master, and even her father, when he +could not understand her wishes, she impatiently banished from her room. +Only The Duke could please or bring her any cheer, and even The Duke +began to feel that the day was not far off when he, too, would fail, and +the thought made him despair. Her pain was hard to bear, but harder than +the pain was her longing for the open air and the free, flower-strewn, +breeze-swept prairie. But most pitiful of all were the days when, in her +utter weariness and uncontrollable unrest, she would pray to be taken +down into the canyon. + +"Oh, it is so cool and shady," she would plead, "and the flowers up in +the rocks and the vines and things are all so lovely. I am always better +there. I know I should be better," till The Duke would be distracted and +would come to me and wonder what the end would be. + +One day, when the strain had been more terrible than usual, The Duke +rode down to me and said: + +"Look here, this thing can't go on. Where is The Pilot gone? Why doesn't +he stay where he belongs? I wish to Heaven he would get through with his +absurd rambling." + +"He's gone where he was sent," I replied shortly. "You don't set much +store by him when he does come round. He is gone on an exploring trip +through the Dog Lake country. He'll be back by the end of next week." + +"I say, bring him up, for Heaven's sake," said The Duke, "he may be of +some use, and anyway it will be a new face for her, poor child." Then he +added, rather penitently: "I fear this thing is getting on to my nerves. +She almost drove me out to-day. Don't lay it up against me, old chap." + +It was a new thing to hear The Duke confess his need of any man, much +less penitence for a fault. I felt my eyes growing dim, but I said, +roughly: + +"You be hanged! I'll bring The Pilot up when he comes." + +It was wonderful how we had all come to confide in The Pilot during +his year of missionary work among us. Somehow the cowboy's name of "Sky +Pilot" seemed to express better than anything else the place he held +with us. Certain it is, that when, in their dark hours, any of the +fellows felt in need of help to strike the "upward trail," they went to +The Pilot; and so the name first given in chaff came to be the name +that expressed most truly the deep and tender feeling these rough, +big-hearted men cherished for him. When The Pilot came home I carefully +prepared him for his trial, telling all that Gwen had suffered and +striving to make him feel how desperate was her case when even The Duke +had to confess himself beaten. He did not seem sufficiently impressed. +Then I pictured for him all her fierce wilfulness and her fretful +humors, her impatience with those who loved her and were wearing out +their souls and bodies for her. "In short," I concluded, "she doesn't +care a rush for anything in heaven or earth, and will yield to neither +man nor God." + +The Pilot's eyes had been kindling as I talked, but he only answered, +quietly: + +"What could you expect?" + +"Well, I do think she might show some signs of gratitude and some +gentleness towards those ready to die for her." + +"Oh, you do!" said he, with high scorn. "You all combine to ruin her +temper and disposition with foolish flattery and weak yielding to her +whims, right or wrong; you smile at her imperious pride and encourage +her wilfulness, and then not only wonder at the results, but blame her, +poor child, for all. Oh, you are a fine lot, The Duke and all of you!" + +He had a most exasperating ability for putting one in the wrong, and +I could only think of the proper and sufficient reply long after the +opportunity for making it had passed. I wondered what The Duke would say +to this doctrine. All the following day, which was Sunday, I could see +that Gwen was on The Pilot's mind. He was struggling with the problem of +pain. + +Monday morning found us on the way to the Old Timer's ranch. And what +a morning it was! How beautiful our world seemed! About us rolled the +round-topped, velvet hills, brown and yellow or faintly green, spreading +out behind us to the broad prairie, and before, clambering up and up +to meet the purple bases of the great mountains that lay their mighty +length along the horizon and thrust up white, sunlit peaks into the blue +sky. On the hillsides and down in the sheltering hollows we could see +the bunches of cattle and horses feeding upon the rich grasses. High +above, the sky, cloudless and blue, arched its great kindly roof from +prairie to mountain peaks, and over all, above, below, upon prairie, +hillsides and mountains, the sun poured his floods of radiant yellow +light. + +As we followed the trail that wound up and into the heart of these +rounded hills and ever nearer to the purple mountains, the morning +breeze swept down to meet us, bearing a thousand scents, and filling us +with its own fresh life. One can know the quickening joyousness of these +Foothill breezes only after he has drunk with wide-open mouth, deep and +full of them. + +Through all this mingling beauty of sunlit hills and shady hollows and +purple, snow-peaked mountains, we rode with hardly a word, every minute +adding to our heart-filling delight, but ever with the thought of +the little room where, shut in from all this outside glory, lay Gwen, +heart-sore with fretting and longing. This must have been in The Pilot's +mind, for he suddenly held up his horse and burst out: + +"Poor Gwen, how she loves all this!--it is her very life. How can she +help fretting the heart out of her? To see this no more!" He flung +himself off his bronco and said, as if thinking aloud: "It is too awful! +Oh, it is cruel! I don't wonder at her! God help me, what can I say to +her?" + +He threw himself down upon the grass and turned over on his face. After +a few minutes he appealed to me, and his face was sorely troubled. + +"How can one go to her? It seems to me sheerest mockery to speak of +patience and submission to a wild young thing from whom all this +is suddenly snatched forever--and this was very life to her, too, +remember." + +Then he sprang up and we rode hard for an hour, till we came to the +mouth of the canyon. Here the trail grew difficult and we came to a +walk. As we went down into the cool depths the spirit of the canyon came +to meet us and took The Pilot in its grip. He rode in front, feasting +his eyes on all the wonders in that storehouse of beauty. Trees of many +kinds deepened the shadows of the canyon. Over us waved the big elms +that grew up here and there out of the bottom, and around their feet +clustered low cedars and hemlocks and balsams, while the sturdy, rugged +oaks and delicate, trembling poplars clung to the rocky sides and +clambered up and out to the canyon's sunny lips. Back of all, the great +black rocks, decked with mossy bits and clinging things, glistened cool +and moist between the parting trees. From many an oozy nook the dainty +clematis and columbine shook out their bells, and, lower down, from +beds of many-colored moss the late wind-flower and maiden-hair and tiny +violet lifted up brave, sweet faces. And through the canyon the Little +Swan sang its song to rocks and flowers and overhanging trees, a song +of many tones, deep-booming where it took its first sheer plunge, +gay-chattering where it threw itself down the ragged rocks, and +soft-murmuring where it lingered about the roots of the loving, +listening elms. A cool, sweet, soothing place it was, with all its +shades and sounds and silences, and, lest it should be sad to any, the +sharp, quick sunbeams danced and laughed down through all its leaves +upon mosses, flowers and rocks. No wonder that The Pilot, drawing a deep +breath as he touched the prairie sod again, said: + +"That does me good. It is better at times even than the sunny hills. +This was Gwen's best spot." + +I saw that the canyon had done its work with him. His face was strong +and calm as the hills on a summer morning, and with this face he looked +in upon Gwen. It was one of her bad days and one of her bad moods, but +like a summer breeze he burst into the little room. + +"Oh, Gwen!" he cried, without a word of greeting, much less of +Commiseration, "we have had such a ride!" And he spread out the sunlit, +round-topped hills before her, till I could feel their very breezes in +my face. This The Duke had never dared to do, fearing to grieve her with +pictures of what she should look upon no more. But, as The Pilot talked, +before she knew, Gwen was out again upon her beloved hills, breathing +their fresh, sunny air, filling her heart with their multitudinous +delights, till her eyes grew bright and the lines of fretting smoothed +out of her face and she forgot her pain. Then, before she could +remember, he had her down into the canyon, feasting her heart with its +airs and sights and sounds. The black, glistening rocks, tricked out +with moss and trailing vines, the great elms and low green cedars, the +oaks and shivering poplars, the clematis and columbine hanging from +the rocky nooks, and the violets and maiden-hair deep bedded in their +mosses. All this and far more he showed her with a touch so light as not +to shake the morning dew from bell or leaf or frond, and with a voice so +soft and full of music as to fill our hearts with the canyon's mingling +sounds, and, as I looked upon her face, I said to myself: "Dear old +Pilot! for this I shall always love you well." As poor Gwen listened, +the rapture of it drew the big tears down her cheeks--alas! no longer +brown, but white, and for that day at least the dull, dead weariness was +lifted from her heart. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CANYON FLOWERS + + +The Pilot's first visit to Gwen had been a triumph. But none knew better +than he that the fight was still to come, for deep in Gwen's heart were +thoughts whose pain made her forget all other. + +"Was it God let me fall?" she asked abruptly one day, and The Pilot +knew the fight was on; but he only answered, looking fearlessly into her +eyes: + +"Yes, Gwen dear." + +"Why did He let me fall?" and her voice was very deliberate. + +"I don't know, Gwen dear," said The Pilot steadily. "He knows." + +"And does He know I shall never ride again? Does He know how long the +days are, and the nights when I can't sleep? Does He know?" + +"Yes, Gwen dear," said The Pilot, and the tears were standing in his +eyes, though his voice was still steady enough. + +"Are you sure He knows?" The voice was painfully intense. + +"Listen to me, Gwen," began The Pilot, in great distress, but she cut +him short. + +"Are you quite sure He knows? Answer me!" she cried, with her old +imperiousness. + +"Yes, Gwen, He knows all about you." + +"Then what do you think of Him, just because He's big and strong, +treating a little girl that way?" Then she added, viciously: "I hate +Him! I don't care! I hate Him!" + +But The Pilot did not wince. I wondered how he would solve that problem +that was puzzling, not only Gwen, but her father and The Duke, and all +of us--the WHY of human pain. + +"Gwen," said The Pilot, as if changing the subject, "did it hurt to put +on the plaster jacket?" + +"You just bet!" said Gwen, lapsing in her English, as The Duke was not +present; "it was worse than anything--awful! They had to straighten me +out, you know," and she shuddered at the memory of that pain. + +"What a pity your father or The Duke was not here!" said The Pilot, +earnestly. + +"Why, they were both here!" + +"What a cruel shame!" burst out The Pilot. "Don't they care for you any +more?" + +"Of course they do," said Gwen, indignantly. + +"Why didn't they stop the doctors from hurting you so cruelly?" + +"Why, they let the doctors. It is going to help me to sit up and perhaps +to walk about a little," answered Gwen, with blue-gray eyes open wide. + +"Oh," said The Pilot, "it was very mean to stand by and see you hurt +like that." + +"Why, you silly," replied Owen, impatiently, "they want my back to get +straight and strong." + +"Oh, then they didn't do it just for fun or for nothing?" said The +Pilot, innocently. + +Gwen gazed at him in amazed and speechless wrath, and he went on: + +"I mean they love you though they let you be hurt; or rather they let +the doctors hurt you BECAUSE they loved you and wanted to make you +better." + +Gwen kept her eyes fixed with curious earnestness upon his face till the +light began to dawn. + +"Do you mean," she began slowly, "that though God let me fall, He loves +me?" + +The Pilot nodded; he could not trust his voice. + +"I wonder if that can be true," she said, as if to herself; and soon +we said good-by and came away--The Pilot, limp and voiceless, but I +triumphant, for I began to see a little light for Gwen. + +But the fight was by no means over; indeed, it was hardly well begun. +For when the autumn came, with its misty, purple days, most glorious of +all days in the cattle country, the old restlessness came back and the +fierce refusal of her lot. Then came the day of the round-up. Why should +she have to stay while all went after the cattle? The Duke would +have remained, but she impatiently sent him away. She was weary and +heart-sick, and, worst of all, she began to feel that most terrible of +burdens, the burden of her life to others. I was much relieved when The +Pilot came in fresh and bright, waving a bunch of wild-flowers in his +hand. + +"I thought they were all gone," he cried. "Where do you think I found +them? Right down by the big elm root," and, though he saw by the +settled gloom of her face that the storm was coming, he went bravely on +picturing the canyon in all the splendor of its autumn dress. But the +spell would not work. Her heart was out on the sloping hills, where the +cattle were bunching and crowding with tossing heads and rattling horns, +and it was in a voice very bitter and impatient that she cried: + +"Oh, I am sick of all this! I want to ride! I want to see the cattle +and the men and--and--and all the things outside." The Pilot was cowboy +enough to know the longing that tugged at her heart for one wild race +after the calves or steers, but he could only say: + +"Wait, Gwen. Try to be patient." + +"I am patient; at least I have been patient for two whole months, and +it's no use, and I don't believe God cares one bit!" + +"Yes, He does, Gwen, more than any of us," replied The Pilot, earnestly. + +"No, He does not care," she answered, with angry emphasis, and The Pilot +made no reply. + +"Perhaps," she went on, hesitatingly, "He's angry because I said I +didn't care for Him, you remember? That was very wicked. But don't you +think I'm punished nearly enough now? You made me very angry, and I +didn't really mean it." + +Poor Gwen! God had grown to be very real to her during these weeks +of pain, and very terrible. The Pilot looked down a moment into the +blue-gray eyes, grown so big and so pitiful, and hurriedly dropping on +his knees beside the bed he said, in a very unsteady voice: + +"Oh, Gwen, Gwen, He's not like that. Don't you remember how Jesus was +with the poor sick people? That's what He's like." + +"Could Jesus make me well?" + +"Yes, Gwen." + +"Then why doesn't He?" she asked; and there was no impatience now, but +only trembling anxiety as she went on in a timid voice: "I asked Him to, +over and over, and said I would wait two months, and now it's more than +three. Are you quite sure He hears now?" She raised herself on her elbow +and gazed searchingly into The Pilot's face. I was glad it was not into +mine. As she uttered the words, "Are you quite sure?" one felt that +things were in the balance. I could not help looking at The Pilot with +intense anxiety. What would he answer? The Pilot gazed out of the window +upon the hills for a few moments. How long the silence seemed! Then, +turning, looked into the eyes that searched his so steadily and answered +simply: + +"Yes, Gwen, I am quite sure!" Then, with quick inspiration, he got her +mother's Bible and said: "Now, Gwen, try to see it as I read." But, +before he read, with the true artist's instinct he created the proper +atmosphere. By a few vivid words he made us feel the pathetic +loneliness of the Man of Sorrows in His last sad days. Then he read that +masterpiece of all tragic picturing, the story of Gethsemane. And as he +read we saw it all. The garden and the trees and the sorrow-stricken +Man alone with His mysterious agony. We heard the prayer so pathetically +submissive and then, for answer, the rabble and the traitor. + +Gwen was far too quick to need explanation, and The Pilot only said, +"You see, Gwen, God gave nothing but the best--to His own Son only the +best." + +"The best? They took Him away, didn't they?" She knew the story well. + +"Yes, but listen." He turned the leaves rapidly and read: "'We see Jesus +for the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor.' That is how He +got His Kingdom." + +Gwen listened silent but unconvinced, and then said slowly: + +"But how can this be best for me? I am no use to anyone. It can't be +best to just lie here and make them all wait on me, and--and--I did +want to help daddy--and--oh--I know they will get tired of me! They are +getting tired already--I--I--can't help being hateful." + +She was by this time sobbing as I had never heard her before--deep, +passionate sobs. Then again the Pilot had an inspiration. + +"Now, Gwen," he said severely, "you know we're not as mean as that, and +that you are just talking nonsense, every word. Now I'm going to smooth +out your red hair and tell you a story." + +"It's NOT red," she cried, between her sobs. This was her sore point. + +"It is red, as red can be; a beautiful, shining purple RED," said The +Pilot emphatically, beginning to brush. + +"Purple!" cried Gwen, scornfully. + +"Yes, I've seen it in the sun, purple. Haven't you?" said The Pilot, +appealing to me. "And my story is about the canyon, our canyon, your +canyon, down there." + +"Is it true?" asked Gwen, already soothed by the cool, quick-moving +hands. + +"True? It's as true as--as--" he glanced round the room, "as the +Pilgrim's Progress." This was satisfactory, and the story went on. + +"At first there were no canyons, but only the broad, open prairie. One +day the Master of the Prairie, walking out over his great lawns, where +were only grasses, asked the Prairie, 'Where are your flowers?' and the +Prairie said, 'Master, I have no seeds.' Then he spoke to the birds, +and they carried seeds of every kind of flower and strewed them far and +wide, and soon the Prairie bloomed with crocuses and roses and buffalo +beans and the yellow crowfoot and the wild sunflowers and the red lilies +all the summer long. Then the Master came and was well pleased; but he +missed the flowers he loved best of all, and he said to the Prairie: +'Where are the clematis and the columbine, the sweet violets and wind +flowers, and all the ferns and flowering shrubs?' And again he spoke to +the birds, and again they carried all the seeds and strewed them far and +wide. But, again, when the Master came, he could not find the flowers he +loved best of all, and he said: 'Where are those, my sweetest flowers?' +and the Prairie cried sorrowfully: 'Oh, Master, I cannot keep the +flowers, for the winds sweep fiercely, and the sun beats upon my +breast, and they wither up and fly away.' Then the Master spoke to the +Lightning, and with one swift blow the Lightning cleft the Prairie to +the heart. And the Prairie rocked and groaned in agony, and for many a +day moaned bitterly over its black, jagged, gaping wound. But the Little +Swan poured its waters through the cleft, and carried down deep black +mould, and once more the birds carried seeds and strewed them in the +canyon. And after a long time the rough rocks were decked out with soft +mosses and trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung with clematis +and columbine, and great elms lifted their huge tops high up into +the sunlight, and down about their feet clustered the low cedars and +balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flower and maiden-hair grew +and bloomed, till the canyon became the Masters place for rest and peace +and joy." + +The quaint tale was ended, and Gwen lay quiet for some moments, then +said gently: + +"Yes! The canyon flowers are much the best. Tell me what it means." + +Then The Pilot read to her: "The fruits--I'll read 'flowers'--of the +Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, +faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these grow only in the +canyon." + +"Which are the canyon flowers?" asked Gwen softly, and The Pilot +answered: + +"Gentleness, meekness, self-control; but though the others, love, joy, +peace, bloom in the open, yet never with so rich a bloom and so sweet a +perfume as in the canyon." + +For a long time Gwen lay quite still, and then said wistfully, while her +lip trembled: + +"There are no flowers in my canyon, but only ragged rocks." + +"Some day they will bloom, Gwen dear; He will find them, and we, too, +shall see them." + +Then he said good-by and took me away. He had done his work that day. + +We rode through the big gate, down the sloping hill, past the smiling, +twinkling little lake, and down again out of the broad sunshine into +the shadows and soft lights of the canyon. As we followed the trail +that wound among the elms and cedars, the very air was full of gentle +stillness; and as we moved we seemed to feel the touch of loving hands +that lingered while they left us, and every flower and tree and vine +and shrub and the soft mosses and the deep-bedded ferns whispered, as we +passed, of love and peace and joy. + +To The Duke it was all a wonder, for as the days shortened outside they +brightened inside; and every day, and more and more Gwen's room became +the brightest spot in all the house, and when he asked The Pilot: + +"What did you do to the Little Princess, and what's all this about the +canyon and its flowers?" The Pilot said, looking wistfully into The +Duke's eyes: + +"The fruits of the Spirit are love, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, +goodness, faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these are found +only in the canyon," and The Duke, standing up straight, handsome and +strong, looked back at The Pilot and said, putting out his hand: + +"Do you know, I believe you're right." + +"Yes, I'm quite sure," answered The Pilot, simply. Then, holding The +Duke's hand as long as one man dare hold another's, he added: "When you +come to your canyon, remember." + +"When I come!" said The Duke, and a quick spasm of pain passed over his +handsome face--"God help me, it's not too far away now." Then he smiled +again his old, sweet smile, and said: + +"Yes, you are all right, for, of all flowers I have seen, none are +fairer or sweeter than those that are waving in Gwen's Canyon." + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BILL'S BLUFF + + +The Pilot had set his heart upon the building of a church in the Swan +Creek district, partly because he was human and wished to set a mark +of remembrance upon the country, but more because he held the sensible +opinion, that a congregation, as a man, must have a home if it is to +stay. + +All through the summer he kept setting this as an object at once +desirable and possible to achieve. But few were found to agree with him. + +Little Mrs. Muir was of the few, and she was not to be despised, but her +influence was neutralized by the solid immobility of her husband. He had +never done anything sudden in his life. Every resolve was the result of +a long process of mind, and every act of importance had to be previewed +from all possible points. An honest man, strongly religious, and a great +admirer of The Pilot, but slow-moving as a glacier, although with plenty +of fire in him deep down. + +"He's soond at the hairt, ma man Robbie," his wife said to The Pilot, +who was fuming and fretting at the blocking of his plans, "but he's +terrible deleeberate. Bide ye a bit, laddie. He'll come tae." + +"But meantime the summer's going and nothing will be done," was The +Pilot's distressed and impatient answer. + +So a meeting was called to discuss the question of building a church, +with the result that the five men and three women present decided that +for the present nothing could be done. This was really Robbie's opinion, +though he refused to do or say anything but grunt, as The Pilot said +to me afterwards, in a rage. It is true, Williams, the storekeeper just +come from "across the line," did all the talking, but no one paid +much attention to his fluent fatuities except as they represented the +unexpressed mind of the dour, exasperating little Scotchman, who sat +silent but for an "ay" now and then, so expressive and conclusive that +everyone knew what he meant, and that discussion was at an end. The +schoolhouse was quite sufficient for the present; the people were too +few and too poor and they were getting on well under the leadership of +their present minister. These were the arguments which Robbie's "ay" +stamped as quite unanswerable. + +It was a sore blow to The Pilot, who had set his heart upon a church, +and neither Mrs. Muir's "hoots" at her husband's slowness nor her +promises that she "wad mak him hear it" could bring comfort or relieve +his gloom. + +In this state of mind he rode up with me to pay our weekly visit to the +little girl shut up in her lonely house among the hills. + +It had become The Pilot's custom during these weeks to turn for cheer to +that little room, and seldom was he disappointed. She was so bright, so +brave, so cheery, and so full of fun, that gloom faded from her presence +as mist before the sun, and impatience was shamed into content. + +Gwen's bright face--it was almost always bright now--and her bright +welcome did something for The Pilot, but the feeling of failure was upon +him, and failure to his enthusiastic nature was worse than pain. Not +that he confessed either to failure or gloom; he was far too true a +man for that; but Gwen felt his depression in spite of all his brave +attempts at brightness, and insisted that he was ill, appealing to me. + +"Oh, it's only his church," I said, proceeding to give her an account +of Robbie Muir's silent, solid inertness, and how he had blocked The +Pilot's scheme. + +"What a shame!" cried Gwen, indignantly. "What a bad man he must be!" + +The Pilot smiled. "No, indeed," he answered; "why, he's the best man in +the place, but I wish he would say or do something. If he would only get +mad and swear I think I should feel happier." + +Gwen looked quite mystified. + +"You see, he sits there in solemn silence looking so tremendously wise +that most men feel foolish if they speak, while as for doing anything +the idea appears preposterous, in the face of his immovableness." + +"I can't bear him!" cried Gwen. "I should like to stick pins in him." + +"I wish some one would," answered The Pilot. "It would make him seem +more human if he could be made to jump." + +"Try again," said Gwen, "and get someone to make him jump." + +"It would be easier to build the church," said The Pilot, gloomily. + +"I could make him jump," said Gwen, viciously, "and I WILL," she added, +after a pause. + +"You!" answered The Pilot, opening his eyes. "How?" + +"I'll find some way," she replied, resolutely. + +And so she did, for when the next meeting was called to consult as to +the building of a church, the congregation, chiefly of farmers and their +wives, with Williams, the storekeeper, were greatly surprised to see +Bronco Bill, Hi, and half a dozen ranchers and cowboys walk in at +intervals and solemnly seat themselves. Robbie looked at them with +surprise and a little suspicion. In church matters he had no dealings +with the Samaritans from the hills, and while, in their unregenerate +condition, they might be regarded as suitable objects of missionary +effort, as to their having any part in the direction, much less control, +of the church policy--from such a notion Robbie was delivered by his +loyal adherence to the scriptural injunction that he should not cast +pearls before swine. + +The Pilot, though surprised to see Bill and the cattle men, was none the +less delighted, and faced the meeting with more confidence. He stated +the question for discussion: Should a church building be erected this +summer in Swan Creek? and he put his case well. He showed the need of a +church for the sake of the congregation, for the sake of the men in the +district, the families growing up, the incoming settlers, and for the +sake of the country and its future. He called upon all who loved their +church and their country to unite in this effort. It was an enthusiastic +appeal and all the women and some of the men were at once upon his side. + +Then followed dead, solemn silence. Robbie was content to wait till +the effect of the speech should be dissipated in smaller talk. Then he +gravely said: + +"The kirk wad be a gran' thing, nae doot, an' they wad a' +dootless"--with a suspicious glance toward Bill--"rejoice in its +erection. But we maun be cautious, an' I wad like to enquire hoo much +money a kirk cud be built for, and whaur the money wad come frae?" + +The Pilot was ready with his answer. The cost would be $1,200. The +Church Building Fund would contribute $200, the people could give $300 +in labor, and the remaining $700 he thought could be raised in the +district in two years' time. + +"Ay," said Robbie, and the tone and manner were sufficient to drench any +enthusiasm with the chilliest of water. So much was this the case that +the chairman, Williams, seemed quite justified in saying: + +"It is quite evident that the opinion of the meeting is adverse to any +attempt to load the community with a debt of one thousand dollars," +and he proceeded with a very complete statement of the many and various +objections to any attempt at building a church this year. The people +were very few, they were dispersed over a large area, they were not +interested sufficiently, they were all spending money and making little +in return; he supposed, therefore, that the meeting might adjourn. + +Robbie sat silent and expressionless in spite of his little wife's +anxious whispers and nudges. The Pilot looked the picture of woe, and +was on the point of bursting forth, when the meeting was startled by +Bill. + +"Say, boys! they hain't much stuck on their shop, heh?" The low, +drawling voice was perfectly distinct and arresting. + +"Hain't got no use for it, seemingly," was the answer from the dark +corner. + +"Old Scotchie takes his religion out in prayin', I guess," drawled in +Bill, "but wants to sponge for his plant." + +This reference to Robbie's proposal to use the school moved the +youngsters to tittering and made the little Scotchman squirm, for he +prided himself upon his independence. + +"There ain't $700 in the hull blanked outfit." This was a stranger's +voice, and again Robbie squirmed, for he rather prided himself also on +his ability to pay his way. + +"No good!" said another emphatic voice. "A blanked lot o' psalm-singing +snipes." + +"Order, order!" cried the chairman. + +"Old Windbag there don't see any show for swipin' the collection, with +Scotchie round," said Hi, with a following ripple of quiet laughter, for +Williams' reputation was none too secure. + +Robbie was in a most uncomfortable state of mind. So unusually stirred +was he that for the first time in his history he made a motion. + +"I move we adjourn, Mr. Chairman," he said, in a voice which actually +vibrated with emotion. + +"Different here! eh, boys?" drawled Bill. + +"You bet," said Hi, in huge delight. "The meetin' ain't out yit." + +"Ye can bide till mor-r-nin'," said Robbie, angrily. "A'm gaen hame," +beginning to put on his coat. + +"Seems as if he orter give the password," drawled Bill. + +"Right you are, pardner," said Hi, springing to the door and waiting in +delighted expectation for his friend's lead. + +Robbie looked at the door, then at his wife, hesitated a moment, I have +no doubt wishing her home. Then Bill stood up and began to speak. + +"Mr. Chairman, I hain't been called on for any remarks--" + +"Go on!" yelled his friends from the dark corner. "Hear! hear!" + +"An' I didn't feel as if this war hardly my game, though The Pilot ain't +mean about invitin' a feller on Sunday afternoons. But them as runs the +shop don't seem to want us fellers round too much." + +Robbie was gazing keenly at Bill, and here shook his head, muttering +angrily: "Hoots, nonsense! ye're welcome eneuch." + +"But," went on Bill, slowly, "I guess I've been on the wrong track. +I've been a-cherishin' the opinion" ["Hear! hear!" yelled his admirers], +"cherishin' the opinion," repeated Bill, "that these fellers," pointing +to Robbie, "was stuck on religion, which I ain't much myself, and reely +consarned about the blocking ov the devil, which The Pilot says can't be +did without a regular Gospel factory. O' course, it tain't any biznis +ov mine, but if us fellers was reely only sot on anything condoocin'," +["Hear! hear!" yelled Hi, in ecstasy], "condoocin'," repeated Bill +slowly and with relish, "to the good ov the Order" (Bill was a +brotherhood man), "I b'lieve I know whar five hundred dollars mebbe cud +per'aps be got." + +"You bet your sox," yelled the strange voice, in chorus with other +shouts of approval. + +"O' course, I ain't no bettin' man," went on Bill, insinuatingly, "as a +regular thing, but I'd gamble a few jist here on this pint; if the boys +was stuck on anythin' costin' about seven hundred dollars, it seems to +me likely they'd git it in about two days, per'aps." + +Here Robbie grunted out an "ay" of such fulness of contemptuous unbelief +that Bill paused, and, looking over Robbie's head, he drawled out, even +more slowly and mildly: + +"I ain't much given to bettin', as I remarked before, but, if a man +shakes money at me on that proposition, I'd accommodate him to a limited +extent." ["Hear! hear! Bully boy!" yelled Hi again, from the door.] "Not +bein' too bold, I cherish the opinion" [again yells of approval from +the corner], "that even for this here Gospel plant, seein' The Pilot's +rather sot onto it, I b'lieve the boys could find five hundred dollars +inside ov a month, if perhaps these fellers cud wiggle the rest out ov +their pants." + +Then Robbie was in great wrath and, stung by the taunting, drawling +voice beyond all self-command, he broke out suddenly: + +"Ye'll no can mak that guid, I doot." + +"D'ye mean I ain't prepared to back it up?" + +"Ay," said Robbie, grimly. + +"'Tain't likely I'll be called on; I guess $500 is safe enough," drawled +Bill, cunningly drawing him on. Then Robbie bit. + +"Oo ay!" said he, in a voice of quiet contempt, "the twa hunner wull be +here and 'twull wait ye long eneuch, I'se warrant ye." + +Then Bill nailed him. + +"I hain't got my card case on my person," he said, with a slight grin. + +"Left it on the pianner," suggested Hi, who was in a state of great +hilarity at Bill's success in drawing the Scottie. + +"But," Bill proceeded, recovering himself, and with increasing suavity, +"if some gentleman would mark down the date of the almanac I cherish the +opinion" [cheers from the corner] "that in one month from to-day there +will be five hundred dollars lookin' round for two hundred on that there +desk mebbe, or p'raps you would incline to two fifty," he drawled, in +his most winning tone to Robbie, who was growing more impatient every +moment. + +"Nae matter tae me. Ye're haverin' like a daft loon, ony way." + +"You will make a memento of this slight transaction, boys, and per'aps +the schoolmaster will write it down," said Bill. + +It was all carefully taken down, and amid much enthusiastic confusion +the ranchers and their gang carried Bill off to Old Latour's to "licker +up," while Robbie, in deep wrath but in dour silence, went off through +the dark with his little wife following some paces behind him. His +chief grievance, however, was against the chairman for "allooin' sic a +disorderly pack o' loons tae disturb respectable fowk," for he could +not hide the fact that he had been made to break through his accustomed +defence line of immovable silence. I suggested, conversing with him next +day upon the matter, that Bill was probably only chaffing. + +"Ay," said Robbie, in great disgust, "the daft eejut, he wad mak a fule +o' onything or onybuddie." + +That was the sorest point with poor Robbie. Bill had not only cast +doubts upon his religious sincerity, which the little man could not +endure, but he had also held him up to the ridicule of the community, +which was painful to his pride. But when he understood, some days later, +that Bill was taking steps to back up his offer and had been heard to +declare that "he'd make them pious ducks take water if he had to put up +a year's pay," Robbie went quietly to work to make good his part of the +bargain. For his Scotch pride would not suffer him to refuse a challenge +from such a quarter. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +BILL'S PARTNER + + +The next day everyone was talking of Bill's bluffing the church people, +and there was much quiet chuckling over the discomfiture of Robbie Muir +and his party. + +The Pilot was equally distressed and bewildered, for Bill's conduct, so +very unusual, had only one explanation--the usual one for any folly in +that country. + +"I wish he had waited till after the meeting to go to Latour's. He +spoiled the last chance I had. There's no use now," he said, sadly. + +"But he may do something," I suggested. + +"Oh, fiddle!" said The Pilot, contemptuously. "He was only giving Muir +'a song and dance,' as he would say. The whole thing is off." + +But when I told Gwen the story of the night's proceedings, she went into +raptures over Bill's grave speech and his success in drawing the canny +Scotchman. + +"Oh, lovely! dear old Bill and his 'cherished opinion.' Isn't he just +lovely? Now he'll do something." + +"Who, Bill?" + +"No, that stupid Scottie." This was her name for the immovable Robbie. + +"Not he, I'm afraid. Of course Bill was just bluffing him. But it was +good sport." + +"Oh, lovely! I knew he'd do something." + +"Who? Scottie?" I asked, for her pronouns were perplexing. + +"No!" she cried, "Bill! He promised he would, you know," she added. + +"So you were at the bottom of it?" I said, amazed. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she kept crying, shrieking with laughter over +Bill's cherishing opinions and desires. "I shall be ill. Dear old Bill. +He said he'd 'try to get a move on to him.'" + +Before I left that day, Bill himself came to the Old Timer's ranch, +inquiring in a casual way "if the 'boss' was in." + +"Oh, Bill!" called out Gwen, "come in here at once; I want you." + +After some delay and some shuffling with hat and spurs, Bill lounged +in and set his lank form upon the extreme end of a bench at the door, +trying to look unconcerned as he remarked: "Gittin' cold. Shouldn't +wonder if we'd have a little snow." + +"Oh, come here," cried Gwen, impatiently, holding out her hand. "Come +here and shake hands." + +Bill hesitated, spat out into the other room his quid of tobacco, and +swayed awkwardly across the room toward the bed, and, taking Gwen's +hand, he shook it up and down, and hurriedly said: + +"Fine day, ma'am; hope I see you quite well." + +"No; you don't," cried Gwen, laughing immoderately, but keeping hold +of Bill's hand, to his great confusion. "I'm not well a bit, but I'm a +great deal better since hearing of your meeting, Bill." + +To this Bill made no reply, being entirely engrossed in getting his +hard, bony, brown hand out of the grasp of the white, clinging fingers. + +"Oh, Bill," went on Gwen, "it was delightful! How did you do it?" + +But Bill, who had by this time got back to his seat at the door, +pretended ignorance of any achievement calling for remark. He "hadn't +done nothin' more out ov the way than usual." + +"Oh, don't talk nonsense!" cried Gwen, impatiently. "Tell me how you got +Scottie to lay you two hundred and fifty dollars." + +"Oh, that!" said Bill, in great surprise; "that ain't nuthin' much. +Scottie riz slick enough." + +"But how did you get him?" persisted Gwen. "Tell me, Bill," she added, +in her most coaxing voice. + +"Well," said Bill, "it was easy as rollin' off a log. I made the remark +as how the boys ginerally put up for what they wanted without no fuss, +and that if they was sot on havin' a Gospel shack I cherished the +opinion"--here Gwen went off into a smothered shriek, which made Bill +pause and look at her in alarm. + +"Go on," she gasped. + +"I cherished the opinion," drawled on Bill, while Gwen stuck her +handkerchief into her mouth, "that mebbe they'd put up for it the seven +hundred dollars, and, even as it was, seein' as The Pilot appeared to be +sot on to it, if them fellers would find two hundred and fifty I cher--" +another shriek from Gwen cut him suddenly short. + +"It's the rheumaticks, mebbe," said Bill, anxiously. "Terrible bad +weather for 'em. I get 'em myself." + +"No, no," said Gwen, wiping away her tears and subduing her laughter. +"Go on, Bill." + +"There ain't no more," said Bill. "He bit, and the master here put it +down." + +"Yes, it's here right enough," I said, "but I don't suppose you mean to +follow it up, do you?" + +"You don't, eh? Well, I am not responsible for your supposin', but them +that is familiar with Bronco Bill generally expects him to back up his +undertakin's." + +"But how in the world can you get five hundred dollars from the cowboys +for a church?" + +"I hain't done the arithmetic yet, but it's safe enough. You see, it +ain't the church altogether, it's the reputation of the boys." + +"I'll help, Bill," said Gwen. + +Bill nodded his head slowly and said: "Proud to have you," trying hard +to look enthusiastic. + +"You don't think I can," said Gwen. Bill protested against such an +imputation. "But I can. I'll get daddy and The Duke, too." + +"Good line!" said Bill, slapping his knee. + +"And I'll give all my money, too, but it isn't very much," she added, +sadly. + +"Much!" said Bill, "if the rest of the fellows play up to that lead +there won't be any trouble about that five hundred." + +Gwen was silent for some time, then said with an air of resolve: + +"I'll give my pinto!" + +"Nonsense!" I exclaimed, while Bill declared "there warn't no call." + +"Yes. I'll give the Pinto!" said Gwen, decidedly. "I'll not need him any +more," her lips quivered, and Bill coughed and spat into the next room, +"and besides, I want to give something I like. And Bill will sell him +for me!" + +"Well," said Bill, slowly, "now come to think, it'll be purty hard to +sell that there pinto." Gwen began to exclaim indignantly, and Bill +hurried on to say, "Not but what he ain't a good leetle horse for his +weight, good leetle horse, but for cattle--" + +"Why, Bill, there isn't a better cattle horse anywhere!" + +"Yes, that's so," assented Bill. "That's so, if you've got the rider, +but put one of them rangers on to him and it wouldn't be no fair show." +Bill was growing more convinced every moment that the pinto wouldn't +sell to any advantage. "Ye see," he explained carefully and cunningly, +"he ain't a horse you could yank round and slam into a bunch of steers +regardless." + +Gwen shuddered. "Oh, I wouldn't think of selling him to any of those +cowboys." Bill crossed his legs and hitched round uncomfortably on his +bench. "I mean one of those rough fellows that don't know how to treat +a horse." Bill nodded, looking relieved. "I thought that some one like +you, Bill, who knew how to handle a horse--" + +Gwen paused, and then added: "I'll ask The Duke." + +"No call for that," said Bill, hastily, "not but what The Dook ain't all +right as a jedge of a horse, but The Dook ain't got the connection, it +ain't his line." Bill hesitated. "But, if you are real sot on to sellin' +that pinto, come to think I guess I could find a sale for him, though, +of course, I think perhaps the figger won't be high." + +And so it was arranged that the pinto should be sold and that Bill +should have the selling of it. + +It was characteristic of Gwen that she would not take farewell of the +pony on whose back she had spent so many hours of freedom and delight. +When once she gave him up she refused to allow her heart to cling to him +any more. + +It was characteristic, too, of Bill that he led off the pinto after +night had fallen, so that "his pardner" might be saved the pain of the +parting. + +"This here's rather a new game for me, but when my pardner," here he +jerked his head towards Gwen's window, "calls for trumps, I'm blanked if +I don't throw my highest, if it costs a leg." + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +BILL'S FINANCING + + +Bill's method of conducting the sale of the pinto was eminently +successful as a financial operation, but there are those in the Swan +Creek country who have never been able to fathom the mystery attaching +to the affair. It was at the fall round-up, the beef round-up, as it +is called, which this year ended at the Ashley Ranch. There were +representatives from all the ranches and some cattle-men from across +the line. The hospitality of the Ashley Ranch was up to its own +lofty standard, and, after supper, the men were in a state of high +exhilaration. The Hon. Fred and his wife, Lady Charlotte, gave +themselves to the duties of their position as hosts for the day with a +heartiness and grace beyond praise. After supper the men gathered round +the big fire, which was piled up before the long, low shed, which stood +open in front. It was a scene of such wild and picturesque interest as +can only be witnessed in the western ranching country. About the fire, +most of them wearing "shaps" and all of them wide, hard-brimmed cowboy +hats, the men grouped themselves, some reclining upon skins thrown upon +the ground, some standing, some sitting, smoking, laughing, chatting, +all in highest spirits and humor. They had just got through with their +season of arduous and, at times, dangerous toil. Their minds were full +of their long, hard rides, their wild and varying experiences with mad +cattle and bucking broncos, their anxious watchings through hot nights, +when a breath of wind or a coyote's howl might set the herd off in +a frantic stampede, their wolf hunts and badger fights and all the +marvellous adventures that fill up a cowboy's summer. Now these were all +behind them. To-night they were free men and of independent means, for +their season's pay was in their pockets. The day's excitement, too, was +still in their blood, and they were ready for anything. + +Bill, as king of the bronco-busters, moved about with the slow, careless +indifference of a man sure of his position and sure of his ability to +maintain it. + +He spoke seldom and slowly, was not as ready-witted as his partner, Hi +Kendal, but in act he was swift and sure, and "in trouble" he could +be counted on. He was, as they said, "a white man; white to the back," +which was understood to sum up the true cattle man's virtues. + +"Hello, Bill," said a friend, "where's Hi? Hain't seen him around!" + +"Well, don't jest know. He was going to bring up my pinto." + +"Your pinto? What pinto's that? You hain't got no pinto!" + +"Mebbe not," said Bill, slowly, "but I had the idee before you spoke +that I had." + +"That so? Whar'd ye git him? Good for cattle?" The crowd began to +gather. + +Bill grew mysterious, and even more than usually reserved. + +"Good fer cattle! Well, I ain't much on gamblin', but I've got a leetle +in my pants that says that there pinto kin outwork any blanked bronco in +this outfit, givin' him a fair show after the cattle." + +The men became interested. + +"Whar was he raised?" + +"Dunno." + +"Whar'd ye git him? Across the line?" + +"No," said Bill stoutly, "right in this here country. The Dook there +knows him." + +This at once raised the pinto several points. To be known, and, as +Bill's tone indicated, favorably known by The Duke, was a testimonial to +which any horse might aspire. + +"Whar'd ye git him, Bill? Don't be so blanked oncommunicatin'!" said an +impatient voice. + +Bill hesitated; then, with an apparent burst of confidence, he assumed +his frankest manner and voice, and told his tale. + +"Well," he said, taking a fresh chew and offering his plug to his +neighbor, who passed it on after helping himself, "ye see, it was like +this. Ye know that little Meredith gel?" + +Chorus of answers: "Yes! The red-headed one. I know! She's a +daisy!--reg'lar blizzard!--lightnin' conductor!" + +Bill paused, stiffened himself a little, dropped his frank air and +drawled out in cool, hard tones: "I might remark that that young lady +is, I might persoom to say, a friend of mine, which I'm prepared to back +up in my best style, and if any blanked blanked son of a street sweeper +has any remark to make, here's his time now!" + +In the pause that followed murmurs were heard extolling the many +excellences of the young lady in question, and Bill, appeased, yielded +to the requests for the continuance of his story, and, as he described +Gwen and her pinto and her work on the ranch, the men, many of whom had +had glimpses of her, gave emphatic approval in their own way. But as he +told of her rescue of Joe and of the sudden calamity that had befallen +her a great stillness fell upon the simple, tender-hearted fellows, +and they listened with their eyes shining in the firelight with growing +intentness. Then Bill spoke of The Pilot and how he stood by her and +helped her and cheered her till they began to swear he was "all right"; +"and now," concluded Bill, "when The Pilot is in a hole she wants to +help him out." + +"O' course," said one. "Right enough. How's she going to work it?" said +another. + +"Well, he's dead set on to buildin' a meetin'-house, and them fellows +down at the Creek that does the prayin' and such don't seem to back him +up!" + +"Whar's the kick, Bill?" + +"Oh, they don't want to go down into their clothes and put up for it." + +"How much?" + +"Why, he only asked 'em for seven hundred the hull outfit, and would +give 'em two years, but they bucked--wouldn't look at it." + +[Chorus of expletives descriptive of the characters and personal +appearance and belongings of the congregation of Swan Creek.] + +"Were you there, Bill? What did you do?" + +"Oh," said Bill, modestly, "I didn't do much. Gave 'em a little bluff." + +"No! How? What? Go on, Bill." + +But Bill remained silent, till under strong pressure, and, as if making +a clean breast of everything, he said: + +"Well, I jest told 'em that if you boys made such a fuss about anythin' +like they did about their Gospel outfit, an' I ain't sayin' anythin' +agin it, you'd put up seven hundred without turnin' a hair." + +"You're the stuff, Bill! Good man! You're talkin' now! What did they say +to that, eh, Bill?" + +"Well," said Bill, slowly, "they CALLED me!" + +"No! That so? An' what did you do, Bill?" + +"Gave 'em a dead straight bluff!" + +[Yells of enthusiastic approval.] + +"Did they take you, Bill?" + +"Well, I reckon they did. The master, here, put it down." + +Whereupon I read the terms of Bill's bluff. + +There was a chorus of very hearty approvals of Bill's course in "not +taking any water" from that variously characterized "outfit." But the +responsibility of the situation began to dawn upon them when some one +asked: + +"How are you going about it, Bill?" + +"Well," drawled Bill, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, "there's +that pinto." + +"Pinto be blanked!" said young Hill. "Say, boys, is that little girl +going to lose that one pony of hers to help out her friend The Pilot? +Good fellow, too, he is! We know he's the right sort." + +[Chorus of, "Not by a long sight; not much; we'll put up the stuff! +Pinto!"] + +"Then," went on Bill, even more slowly, "there's The Pilot; he's going +for to ante up a month's pay; 'taint much, o' course--twenty-eight a +month and grub himself. He might make it two," he added, thoughtfully. +But Bill's proposal was scorned with contemptuous groans. "Twenty-eight +a month and grub himself o' course ain't much for a man to save money +out ov to eddicate himself." Bill continued, as if thinking aloud, "O' +course he's got his mother at home, but she can't make much more than +her own livin', but she might help him some." + +This was altogether too much for the crowd. They consigned Bill and his +plans to unutterable depths of woe. + +"O' course," Bill explained, "it's jest as you boys feel about it. Mebbe +I was, bein' hot, a little swift in givin' 'em the bluff." + +"Not much, you wasn't! We'll see you out! That's the talk! There's +between twenty and thirty of us here." + +"I should be glad to contribute thirty or forty if need be," said The +Duke, who was standing not far off, "to assist in the building of a +church. It would be a good thing, and I think the parson should be +encouraged. He's the right sort." + +"I'll cover your thirty," said young Hill; and so it went from one to +another in tens and fifteens and twenties, till within half an hour I +had entered three hundred and fifty dollars in my book, with Ashley yet +to hear from, which meant fifty more. It was Bill's hour of triumph. + +"Boys," he said, with solemn emphasis, "ye're all white. But that leetle +pale-faced gel, that's what I'm thinkin' on. Won't she open them big +eyes ov hers! I cherish the opinion that this'll tickle her some." + +The men were greatly pleased with Bill and even more pleased with +themselves. Bill's picture of the "leetle gel" and her pathetically +tragic lot had gone right to their hearts and, with men of that stamp, +it was one of their few luxuries to yield to their generous impulses. +The most of them had few opportunities of lavishing love and sympathy +upon worthy objects and, when the opportunity came, all that was best in +them clamored for expression. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HOW THE PINTO SOLD + + +The glow of virtuous feeling following the performance of their generous +act prepared the men for a keener enjoyment than usual of a night's +sport. They had just begun to dispose themselves in groups about the +fire for poker and other games when Hi rode up into the light and with +him a stranger on Gwen's beautiful pinto pony. + +Hi was evidently half drunk and, as he swung himself of his bronco, +he saluted the company with a wave of the hand and hoped he saw them +"kickin'." + +Bill, looking curiously at Hi, went up to the pinto and, taking him by +the head, led him up into the light, saying: + +"See here, boys, there's that pinto of mine I was telling you about; no +flies on him, eh?" + +"Hold on there! Excuse me!" said the stranger, "this here hoss belongs +to me, if paid-down money means anything in this country." + +"The country's all right," said Bill in an ominously quiet voice, "but +this here pinto's another transaction, I reckon." + +"The hoss is mine, I say, and what's more, I'm goin' to hold him," said +the stranger in a loud voice. + +The men began to crowd around with faces growing hard. It was dangerous +in that country to play fast and loose with horses. + +"Look a-hyar, mates," said the stranger, with a Yankee drawl, "I ain't +no hoss thief, and if I hain't bought this hoss reg'lar and paid down +good money then it ain't mine--if I have it is. That's fair, ain't it?" + +At this Hi pulled himself together, and in a half-drunken tone declared +that the stranger was all right, and that he had bought the horse fair +and square, and "there's your dust," said Hi, handing a roll to Bill. +But with a quick movement Bill caught the stranger by the leg, and, +before a word could be said, he was lying flat on the ground. + +"You git off that pony," said Bill, "till this thing is settled." + +There was something so terrible in Bill's manner that the man contented +himself with blustering and swearing, while Bill, turning to Hi, said: + +"Did you sell this pinto to him?" + +Hi was able to acknowledge that, being offered a good price, and knowing +that his partner was always ready for a deal, he had transferred the +pinto to the stranger for forty dollars. + +Bill was in distress, deep and poignant. "'Taint the horse, but the +leetle gel," he explained; but his partner's bargain was his, and +wrathful as he was, he refused to attempt to break the bargain. + +At this moment the Hon. Fred, noting the unusual excitement about the +fire, came up, followed at a little distance by his wife and The Duke. + +"Perhaps he'll sell," he suggested. + +"No," said Bill sullenly, "he's a mean cuss." + +"I know him," said the Hon. Fred, "let me try him." But the stranger +declared the pinto suited him down to the ground and he wouldn't take +twice his money for him. + +"Why," he protested, "that there's what I call an unusual hoss, and down +in Montana for a lady he'd fetch up to a hundred and fifty dollars." In +vain they haggled and bargained; the man was immovable. Eighty dollars +he wouldn't look at, a hundred hardly made him hesitate. At this point +Lady Charlotte came down into the light and stood by her husband, +who explained the circumstances to her. She had already heard Bill's +description of Gwen's accident and of her part in the church-building +schemes. There was silence for a few moments as she stood looking at the +beautiful pony. + +"What a shame the poor child should have to part with the dear little +creature!" she said in a low tone to her husband. Then, turning to the +stranger, she said in clear, sweet tones: + +"What do you ask for him?" He hesitated and then said, lifting his hat +awkwardly in salute: "I was just remarking how that pinto would fetch +one hundred and fifty dollars down into Montana. But seein' as a lady is +enquirin', I'll put him down to one hundred and twenty-five." + +"Too much," she said promptly, "far too much, is it not, Bill?" + +"Well," drawled Bill, "if 'twere a fellar as was used to ladies he'd +offer you the pinto, but he's too pizen mean even to come down to the +even hundred." + +The Yankee took him up quickly. "Wall, if I were so blanked--pardon, +madam"--taking off his hat, "used to ladies as some folks would like to +think themselves, I'd buy that there pinto and make a present of it to +this here lady as stands before me." Bill twisted uneasily. + +"But I ain't goin' to be mean; I'll put that pinto in for the even money +for the lady if any man cares to put up the stuff." + +"Well, my dear," said the Hon. Fred with a bow, "we cannot well let that +gage lie." She turned and smiled at him and the pinto was transferred +to the Ashley stables, to Bill's outspoken delight, who declared he +"couldn't have faced the music if that there pinto had gone across the +line." I confess, however, I was somewhat surprised at the ease with +which Hi escaped his wrath, and my surprise was in no way lessened when +I saw, later in the evening, the two partners with the stranger taking +a quiet drink out of the same bottle with evident mutual admiration and +delight. + +"You're an A1 corker, you are! I'll be blanked if you ain't a bird--a +singin' bird--a reg'lar canary," I heard Hi say to Bill. + +But Bill's only reply was a long, slow wink which passed into a frown +as he caught my eye. My suspicion was aroused that the sale of the pinto +might bear investigation, and this suspicion was deepened when Gwen next +week gave me a rapturous account of how splendidly Bill had disposed +of the pinto, showing me bills for one hundred and fifty dollars! To my +look of amazement, Gwen replied: + +"You see, he must have got them bidding against each other, and besides, +Bill says pintos are going up." + +Light began to dawn upon me, but I only answered that I knew they had +risen very considerably in value within a month. The extra fifty was +Bill's. + +I was not present to witness the finishing of Bill's bluff, but was told +that when Bill made his way through the crowded aisle and laid his five +hundred and fifty dollars on the schoolhouse desk the look of disgust, +surprise and finally of pleasure on Robbie's face, was worth a hundred +more. But Robbie was ready and put down his two hundred with the single +remark: + +"Ay! ye're no as daft as ye look," mid roars of laughter from all. + +Then The Pilot, with eyes and face shining, rose and thanked them all; +but when he told of how the little girl in her lonely shack in the hills +thought so much of the church that she gave up for it her beloved pony, +her one possession, the light from his eyes glowed in the eyes of all. + +But the men from the ranches who could understand the full meaning +of her sacrifice and who also could realize the full measure of her +calamity, were stirred to their hearts' depths, so that when Bill +remarked in a very distinct undertone, "I cherish the opinion that this +here Gospel shop wouldn't be materializin' into its present shape but +for that leetle gel," there rose growls of approval in a variety of +tones and expletives that left no doubt that his opinion was that of +all. + +But though The Pilot never could quite get at the true inwardness of +Bill's measures and methods, and was doubtless all the more comfortable +in mind for that, he had no doubt that while Gwen's influence was the +moving spring of action, Bill's bluff had a good deal to do with +the "materializin'" of the first church in Swan Creek, and in this +conviction, I share. + +Whether the Hon. Fred ever understood the peculiar style of Bill's +financing, I do not quite know. But if he ever did come to know, he was +far too much of a man to make a fuss. Besides, I fancy the smile on his +lady's face was worth some large amount to him. At least, so the look of +proud and fond love in his eyes seemed to say as he turned away with her +from the fire the night of the pinto's sale. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LADY CHARLOTTE + + +The night of the pinto's sale was a night momentous to Gwen, for then it +was that the Lady Charlotte's interest in her began. Momentous, too, to +the Lady Charlotte, for it was that night that brought The Pilot into +her life. + +I had turned back to the fire around which the men had fallen into +groups prepared to have an hour's solid delight, for the scene was full +of wild and picturesque beauty to me, when The Duke came and touched me +on the shoulder. + +"Lady Charlotte would like to see you." + +"And why, pray?" + +"She wants to hear about this affair of Bill's." + +We went through the kitchen into the large dining-room, at one end of +which was a stone chimney and fireplace. Lady Charlotte had declared +that she did not much care what kind of a house the Hon. Fred would +build for her, but that she must have a fireplace. + +She was very beautiful--tall, slight and graceful in every line. There +was a reserve and a grand air in her bearing that put people in awe of +her. This awe I shared; but as I entered the room she welcomed me with +such kindly grace that I felt quite at ease in a moment. + +"Come and sit by me," she said, drawing an armchair into the circle +about the fire. "I want you to tell us all about a great many things." + +"You see what you're in for, Connor," said her husband. "It is a serious +business when my lady takes one in hand." + +"As he knows to his cost," she said, smiling and shaking her head at her +husband. + +"So I can testify," put in The Duke. + +"Ah! I can't do anything with you," she replied, turning to him. + +"Your most abject slave," he replied with a profound bow. + +"If you only were," smiling at him--a little sadly, I thought--"I'd keep +you out of all sorts of mischief." + +"Quite true, Duke," said her husband, "just look at me." + +The Duke gazed at him a moment or two. "Wonderful!" he murmured, "what a +deliverance!" + +"Nonsense!" broke in Lady Charlotte. "You are turning my mind away from +my purpose." + +"Is it possible, do you think?" said The Duke to her husband. + +"Not in the very least," he replied, "if my experience goes for +anything." + +But Lady Charlotte turned her back upon them and said to me: + +"Now, tell me first about Bill's encounter with that funny little +Scotchman." + +Then I told her the story of Bill's bluff in my best style, imitating, +as I have some small skill in doing, the manner and speech of the +various actors in the scene. She was greatly amused and interested. + +"And Bill has really got his share ready," she cried. "It is very clever +of him." + +"Yes," I replied, "but Bill is only the very humble instrument, the +moving spirit is behind." + +"Oh, yes, you mean the little girl that owns the pony," she said. +"That's another thing you must tell me about." + +"The Duke knows more than I," I replied, shifting the burden to him; "my +acquaintance is only of yesterday; his is lifelong." + +"Why have you never told me of her?" she demanded, turning to the Duke. + +"Haven't I told you of the little Meredith girl? Surely I have," said +The Duke, hesitatingly. + +"Now, you know quite well you have not, and that means you are deeply +interested. Oh, I know you well," she said, severely. + +"He is the most secretive man," she went on to me, "shamefully and +ungratefully reserved." + +The Duke smiled; then said, lazily: "Why, she's just a child. Why should +you be interested in her? No one was," he added sadly, "till misfortune +distinguished her." + +Her eyes grew soft, and her gay manner changed, and she said to The Duke +gently: "Tell me of her now." + +It was evidently an effort, but he began his story of Gwen from the time +he saw her first, years ago, playing in and out of her father's rambling +shack, shy and wild as a young fox. As he went on with his tale, his +voice dropped into a low, musical tone, and he seemed as if dreaming +aloud. Unconsciously he put into the tale much of himself, revealing how +great an influence the little child had had upon him, and how empty of +love his life had been in this lonely land. Lady Charlotte listened +with face intent upon him, and even her bluff husband was conscious that +something more than usual was happening. He had never heard The Duke +break through his proud reserve before. + +But when The Duke told the story of Gwen's awful fall, which he did with +great graphic power, a little red spot burned upon the Lady Charlotte's +pale cheek, and, as The Duke finished his tale with the words, "It was +her last ride," she covered her face with her hands and cried: + +"Oh, Duke, it is horrible to think of! But what splendid courage!" + +"Great stuff! eh, Duke?" cried the Hon. Fred, kicking a burning log +vigorously. + +But The Duke made no reply. + +"How is she now, Duke?" said Lady Charlotte. The Duke looked up as +from a dream. "Bright as the morning," he said. Then, in reply to Lady +Charlotte's look of wonder, he added: + +"The Pilot did it. Connor will tell you. I don't understand it." + +"Nor do I, either. But I can tell you only what I saw and heard," I +answered. + +"Tell me," said Lady Charlotte very gently. + +Then I told her how, one by one, we had failed to help her, and how +The Pilot had ridden up that morning through the canyon, and how he had +brought the first light and peace to her by his marvellous pictures of +the flowers and ferns and trees and all the wonderful mysteries of that +wonderful canyon. + +"But that wasn't all," said the Duke quickly, as I stopped. + +"No," I said slowly, "that was NOT all by a long way; but the rest I +don't understand. That's The Pilot's secret." + +"Tell me what he did," said Lady Charlotte, softly, once more. "I want +to know." + +"I don't think I can," I replied. "He simply read out of the Scriptures +to her and talked." + +Lady Charlotte looked disappointed. + +"Is that all?" she said. + +"It is quite enough for Gwen," said The Duke confidently, "for there she +lies, often suffering, always longing for the hills and the free air, +but with her face radiant as the flowers of the beloved canyon." + +"I must see her," said Lady Charlotte, "and that wonderful Pilot." + +"You'll be disappointed in him," said The Duke. + +"Oh, I've see him and heard him, but I don't know him," she replied. +"There must be something in him that one does not see at first." + +"So I have discovered," said The Duke, and with that the subject was +dropped, but not before the Lady Charlotte made me promise to take her +to Gwen, The Duke being strangely unwilling to do this for her. + +"You'll be disappointed," he said. "She is only a simple little child." + +But Lady Charlotte thought differently, and, having made up her mind +upon the matter, there was nothing for it, as her husband said, but "for +all hands to surrender and the sooner the better." + +And so the Lady Charlotte had her way, which, as it turned out, was much +the wisest and best. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THROUGH GWEN'S WINDOW + + +When I told The Pilot of Lady Charlotte's purpose to visit Gwen, he was +not too well pleased. + +"What does she want with Gwen?" he said impatiently. "She will just put +notions into her head and make the child discontented." + +"Why should she?" said I. + +"She won't mean to, but she belongs to another world, and Gwen cannot +talk to her without getting glimpses of a life that will make her long +for what she can never have," said The Pilot. + +"But suppose it is not idle curiosity in Lady Charlotte," I suggested. + +"I don't say it is quite that," he answered, "but these people love a +sensation." + +"I don't think you know Lady Charlotte," I replied. "I hardly think from +her tone the other night that she is a sensation hunter." + +"At any rate," he answered, decidedly, "she is not to worry poor Gwen." + +I was a little surprised at his attitude, and felt that he was unfair to +Lady Charlotte, but I forbore to argue with him on the matter. He could +not bear to think of any person or thing threatening the peace of his +beloved Gwen. + +The very first Saturday after my promise was given we were surprised +to see Lady Charlotte ride up to the door of our shack in the early +morning. + +"You see, I am not going to let you off," she said, as I greeted her. +"And the day is so very fine for a ride." + +I hastened to apologize for not going to her, and then to get out of my +difficulty, rather meanly turned toward The Pilot, and said: + +"The Pilot doesn't approve of our visit." + +"And why not, may I ask?" said Lady Charlotte, lifting her eyebrows. + +The Pilot's face burned, partly with wrath at me, and partly with +embarrassment; for Lady Charlotte had put on her grand air. But he stood +to his guns. + +"I was saying, Lady Charlotte," he said, looking straight into her eyes, +"that you and Gwen have little in common--and--and--" he hesitated. + +"Little in common!" said Lady Charlotte quietly. "She has suffered +greatly." + +The Pilot was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice. + +"Yes," he said, wondering at her tone, "she has suffered greatly." + +"And," continued Lady Charlotte, "she is bright as the morning, The Duke +says." There was a look of pain in her face. + +The Pilot's face lit up, and he came nearer and laid his hand +caressingly upon her beautiful horse. + +"Yes, thank God!" he said quickly, "bright as the morning." + +"How can that be?" she asked, looking down into his face. "Perhaps she +would tell me." + +"Lady Charlotte," said The Pilot with a sudden flush, "I must ask your +pardon. I was wrong. I thought you--" he paused; "but go to Gwen, she +will tell you, and you will do her good." + +"Thank you," said Lady Charlotte, putting out her hand, "and perhaps you +will come and see me, too." + +The Pilot promised and stood looking after us as we rode up the trail. + +"There is something more in your Pilot than at first appears," she said. +"The Duke was quite right." + +"He is a great man," I said with enthusiasm; "tender as a woman and with +the heart of a hero." + +"You and Bill and The Duke seem to agree about him," she said, smiling. + +Then I told her tales of The Pilot, and of his ways with the men, till +her blue eyes grew bright and her beautiful face lost its proud look. + +"It is perfectly amazing," I said, finishing my story, "how these +devil-may-care rough fellows respect him, and come to him in all sorts +of trouble. I can't understand it, and yet he is just a boy." + +"No, not amazing," said Lady Charlotte slowly. "I think I understand it. +He has a true man's heart; and holds a great purpose in it. I've seen +men like that. Not clergymen, I mean, but men with a great purpose." + +Then, after a moment's thought, she added: "But you ought to care for +him better. He does not look strong." + +"Strong!" I exclaimed quickly, with a queer feeling of resentment at my +heart. "He can do as much riding as any of us." + +"Still," she replied, "there's something in his face that would make his +mother anxious." In spite of my repudiation of her suggestion, I found +myself for the next few minutes thinking of how he would come exhausted +and faint from his long rides, and I resolved that he must have a rest +and change. + +It was one of those early September days, the best of all in the western +country, when the light falls less fiercely through a soft haze that +seems to fill the air about you, and that grows into purple on the far +hilltops. By the time we reached the canyon the sun was riding high and +pouring its rays full into all the deep nooks where the shadows mostly +lay. + +There were no shadows to-day, except such as the trees cast upon the +green moss beds and the black rocks. The tops of the tall elms were sere +and rusty, but the leaves of the rugged oaks that fringed the canyon's +lips shone a rich and glossy brown. All down the sides the poplars and +delicate birches, pale yellow, but sometimes flushing into orange and +red, stood shimmering in the golden light, while here and there the +broad-spreading, feathery sumachs made great splashes of brilliant +crimson upon the yellow and gold. Down in the bottom stood the cedars +and the balsams, still green. We stood some moments silently gazing into +this tangle of interlacing boughs and shimmering leaves, all glowing in +yellow light, then Lady Charlotte broke the silence in tones soft and +reverent as if she stood in a great cathedral. + +"And this is Gwen's canyon!" + +"Yes, but she never sees it now," I said, for I could never ride through +without thinking of the child to whose heart this was so dear, but whose +eyes never rested upon it. Lady Charlotte made no reply, and we took the +trail that wound down into this maze of mingling colors and lights +and shadows. Everywhere lay the fallen leaves, brown and yellow and +gold;--everywhere on our trail, on the green mosses and among the +dead ferns. And as we rode, leaves fluttered down from the trees above +silently through the tangled boughs, and lay with the others on moss and +rock and beaten trail. + +The flowers were all gone; but the Little Swan sang as ever its +many-voiced song, as it flowed in pools and eddies and cascades, with +here and there a golden leaf upon its black waters. Ah! how often in +weary, dusty days these sights and sounds and silences have come to me +and brought my heart rest! + +As we began to climb up into the open, I glanced at my companion's face. +The canyon had done its work with her as with all who loved it. The +touch of pride that was the habit of her face was gone, and in its place +rested the earnest wonder of a little child, while in her eyes lay the +canyon's tender glow. And with this face she looked in upon Gwen. + +And Gwen, who had been waiting for her, forgot all her nervous fear, and +with hands outstretched, cried out in welcome: + +"Oh, I'm so glad! You've seen it and I know you love it! My canyon, you +know!" she went on, answering Lady Charlotte's mystified look. + +"Yes, dear child," said Lady Charlotte, bending over the pale face with +its halo of golden hair, "I love it." But she could get no further, +for her eyes were full of tears. Gwen gazed up into the beautiful face, +wondering at her silence, and then said gently: + +"Tell me how it looks to-day! The Pilot always shows it to me. Do you +know," she added, thoughtfully, "The Pilot looks like it himself. He +makes me think of it, and--and--" she went on shyly, "you do, too." + +By this time Lady Charlotte was kneeling by the couch, smoothing the +beautiful hair and gently touching the face so pale and lined with pain. + +"That is a great honor, truly," she said brightly through her tears--"to +be like your canyon and like your Pilot, too." + +Gwen nodded, but she was not to be denied. + +"Tell me how it looks to-day," she said. "I want to see it. Oh, I want +to see it!" + +Lady Charlotte was greatly moved by the yearning in the voice, but, +controlling herself, she said gaily: + +"Oh, I can't show it to you as your Pilot can, but I'll tell you what I +saw." + +"Turn me where I can see," said Gwen to me, and I wheeled her toward the +window and raised her up so that she could look down the trail toward +the canyon's mouth. + +"Now," she said, after the pain of the lifting had passed, "tell me, +please." + +Then Lady Charlotte set the canyon before her in rich and radiant +coloring, while Gwen listened, gazing down upon the trail to where the +elm tops could be seen, rusty and sere. + +"Oh, it is lovely!" said Gwen, "and I see it so well. It is all there +before me when I look through my window." + +But Lady Charlotte looked at her, wondering to see her bright smile, and +at last she could not help the question: + +"But don't you weary to see it with your own eyes?" + +"Yes," said Gwen gently, "often I want and want it, oh, so much!" + +"And then, Gwen, dear, how can you bear it?" Her voice was eager and +earnest. "Tell me, Gwen. I have heard all about your canyon flowers, but +I can't understand how the fretting and the pain went away." + +Gwen looked at her first in amazement, and then in dawning +understanding. + +"Have you a canyon, too?" she asked, gravely. + +Lady Charlotte paused a moment, then nodded. It did appear strange to me +that she should break down her proud reserve and open her heart to this +child. + +"And there are no flowers, Gwen, not one," she said rather bitterly, +"nor sun nor seeds nor soil, I fear." + +"Oh, if The Pilot were here, he would tell you." + +At this point, feeling that they would rather be alone, I excused myself +on the pretext of looking after the horses. + +What they talked of during the next hour I never knew, but when +I returned to the room Lady Charlotte was reading slowly and with +perplexed face to Gwen out of her mother's Bible the words "for the +suffering of death, crowned with glory and honor." + +"You see even for Him, suffering," Gwen said eagerly, "but I can't +explain. The Pilot will make it clear." Then the talk ended. + +We had lunch with Gwen--bannocks and fresh sweet milk and +blueberries--and after an hour of gay fun we came away. + +Lady Charlotte kissed her tenderly as she bade Gwen good-by. + +"You must let me come again and sit at your window," she said, smiling +down upon the wan face. + +"Oh, I shall watch for you. How good that will be!" cried Gwen, +delightedly. "How many come to see me! You make five." Then she added, +softly: "You will write your letter." But Lady Charlotte shook her head. + +"I can't do that, I fear," she said, "but I shall think of it." + +It was a bright face that looked out upon us through the open window as +we rode down the trail. Just before we took the dip into the canyon, I +turned to wave my hand. + +"Gwen's friends always wave from here," I said, wheeling my bronco. + +Again and again Lady Charlotte waved her handkerchief. + +"How beautiful, but how wonderful!" she said as if to herself. "Truly, +HER canyon is full of flowers." + +"It is quite beyond me," I answered. "The Pilot may explain." + +"Is there anything your Pilot can't do?" said Lady Charlotte. + +"Try him," I ventured. + +"I mean to," she replied, "but I cannot bring anyone to my canyon, I +fear," she added in an uncertain voice. + +As I left her at her door she thanked me with courteous grace. + +"You have done a great deal for me," she said, giving me her hand. "It +has been a beautiful, a wonderful day." + +When I told the Pilot all the day's doings, he burst out: + +"What a stupid and self-righteous fool I have been! I never thought +there could be any canyon in her life. How short our sight is!" and all +that night I could get almost no words from him. + +That was the first of many visits to Gwen. Not a week passed but Lady +Charlotte took the trail to the Meredith ranch and spent an hour at +Gwen's window. Often The Pilot found her there. But though they were +always pleasant hours to him, he would come home in great trouble about +Lady Charlotte. + +"She is perfectly charming and doing Gwen no end of good, but she is +proud as an archangel. Has had an awful break with her family at home, +and it is spoiling her life. She told me so much, but she will allow no +one to touch the affair." + +But one day we met her riding toward the village. As we drew near, she +drew up her horse and held up a letter. + +"Home!" she said. "I wrote it to-day, and I must get it off +immediately." + +The Pilot understood her at once, but he only said: + +"Good!" but with such emphasis that we both laughed. + +"Yes, I hope so," she said with the red beginning to show in her cheek. +"I have dropped some seed into my canyon." + +"I think I see the flowers beginning to spring," said The Pilot. + +She shook her head doubtfully and replied: + +"I shall ride up and sit with Gwen at her window." + +"Do," replied The Pilot, "the light is good there. Wonderful things are +to be seen through Gwen's window." + +"Yes," said Lady Charlotte softly. "Dear Gwen!--but I fear it is often +made bright with tears." + +As she spoke she wheeled her horse and cantered off, for her own tears +were not far away. I followed her in thought up the trail winding +through the round-topped hills and down through the golden lights of the +canyon and into Gwen's room. I could see the pale face, with its golden +aureole, light up and glow, as they sat before the window while Lady +Charlotte would tell her how Gwen's Canyon looked to-day and how in her +own bleak canyon there was the sign of flowers. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +HOW BILL FAVORED "HOME-GROWN INDUSTRIES" + + +The building of the Swan Creek Church made a sensation in the country, +and all the more that Bronco Bill was in command. + +"When I put up money I stay with the game," he announced; and stay he +did, to the great benefit of the work and to the delight of The Pilot, +who was wearing his life out in trying to do several men's work. It was +Bill that organized the gangs for hauling stone for the foundation and +logs for the walls. It was Bill that assigned the various jobs to those +volunteering service. To Robbie Muir and two stalwart Glengarry men from +the Ottawa lumber region, who knew all about the broadaxe, he gave the +hewing down of the logs that formed the walls. And when they had done, +Bill declared they were "better 'an a sawmill." It was Bill, too, that +did the financing, and his passage with Williams, the storekeeper from +"the other side" who dealt in lumber and building material, was such as +established forever Bill's reputation in finance. + +With The Pilot's plans in his hands he went to Williams, seizing a time +when the store was full of men after their mail matter. + +"What do you think ov them plans?" he asked innocently. + +Williams was voluble with opinions and criticism and suggestions, all of +which were gratefully, even humbly received. + +"Kind ov hard to figger out jest how much lumber 'll go into the shack," +said Bill; "ye see the logs makes a difference." + +To Williams the thing was simplicity itself, and, after some figuring, +he handed Bill a complete statement of the amount of lumber of all kinds +that would be required. + +"Now, what would that there come to?" + +Williams named his figure, and then Bill entered upon negotiations. + +"I aint no man to beat down prices. No, sir, I say give a man his +figger. Of course, this here aint my funeral; besides, bein' a Gospel +shop, the price naterally would be different." To this the boys all +assented and Williams looked uncomfortable. + +"In fact," and Bill adopted his public tone to Hi's admiration and joy, +"this here's a public institooshun" (this was Williams' own thunder), +"condoocin' to the good of the community" (Hi slapped his thigh and +squirted half way across the store to signify his entire approval), "and +I cherish the opinion"--(delighted chuckle from Hi)--"that public men +are interested in this concern." + +"That's so! Right you are!" chorused the boys gravely. + +Williams agreed, but declared he had thought of all this in making his +calculation. But seeing it was a church, and the first church and their +own church, he would make a cut, which he did after more figuring. Bill +gravely took the slip of paper and put it into his pocket without a +word. By the end of the week, having in the meantime ridden into town +and interviewed the dealers there, Bill sauntered into the store and +took up his position remote from Williams. + +"You'll be wanting that sheeting, won't you, next week, Bill?" said +Williams. + +"What sheetin' 's that?" + +"Why, for the church. Aint the logs up?" + +"Yes, that's so. I was just goin' to see the boys here about gettin' it +hauled," said Bill. + +"Hauled!" said Williams, in amazed indignation. "Aint you goin' to stick +to your deal?" + +"I generally make it my custom to stick to my deals," said Bill, looking +straight at Williams. + +"Well, what about your deal with me last Monday night?" said Williams, +angrily. + +"Let's see. Last Monday night," said Bill, apparently thinking back; +"can't say as I remember any pertickler deal. Any ov you fellers +remember?" + +No one could recall any deal. + +"You don't remember getting any paper from me, I suppose?" said +Williams, sarcastically. + +"Paper! Why, I believe I've got that there paper onto my person at +this present moment," said Bill, diving into his pocket and drawing out +Williams' estimate. He spent a few moments in careful scrutiny. + +"There ain't no deal onto this as I can see," said Bill, gravely passing +the paper to the boys, who each scrutinized it and passed it on with a +shake of the head or a remark as to the absence of any sign of a deal. +Williams changed his tone. For his part, he was indifferent in the +matter. + +Then Bill made him an offer. + +"Ov course, I believe in supportin' home-grown industries, and if you +can touch my figger I'd be uncommonly glad to give you the contract." + +But Bill's figure, which was quite fifty per cent. lower than Williams' +best offer, was rejected as quite impossible. + +"Thought I'd make you the offer," said Bill, carelessly, "seein' as +you're institootin' the trade and the boys here 'll all be buildin' +more or less, and I believe in standin' up for local trades and +manufactures." There were nods of approval on all sides, and Williams +was forced to accept, for Bill began arranging with the Hill brothers +and Hi to make an early start on Monday. It was a great triumph, but +Bill displayed no sign of elation; he was rather full of sympathy +for Williams, and eager to help on the lumber business as a local +"institooshun." + +Second in command in the church building enterprise stood Lady +Charlotte, and under her labored the Hon. Fred, The Duke, and, indeed, +all the company of the Noble Seven. Her home became the centre of a new +type of social life. With exquisite tact, and much was needed for this +kind of work, she drew the bachelors from their lonely shacks and +from their wild carousals, and gave them a taste of the joys of a pure +home-life, the first they had had since leaving the old homes years ago. +And then she made them work for the church with such zeal and diligence +that her husband and The Duke declared that ranching had become quite an +incidental interest since the church-building had begun. But The Pilot +went about with a radiant look on his pale face, while Bill gave it +forth as his opinion, "though she was a leetle high in the action, she +could hit an uncommon gait." + +With such energy did Bill push the work of construction that by the +first of December the church stood roofed, sheeted, floored and ready +for windows, doors and ceiling, so that The Pilot began to hope that he +should see the desire of his heart fulfilled--the church of Swan Creek +open for divine service on Christmas Day. + +During these weeks there was more than church-building going on, for +while the days were given to the shaping of logs, and the driving of +nails and the planing of boards, the long winter evenings were spent in +talk around the fire in my shack, where The Pilot for some months past +had made his home and where Bill, since the beginning of the church +building, had come "to camp." Those were great nights for The Pilot and +Bill, and, indeed, for me, too, and the other boys, who, after a day's +work on the church, were always brought in by Bill or The Pilot. + +Great nights for us all they were. After bacon and beans and bannocks, +and occasionally potatoes, and rarely a pudding, with coffee, rich +and steaming, to wash all down, pipes would follow, and then yarns of +adventures, possible and impossible, all exciting and wonderful, and all +received with the greatest credulity. + +If, however, the powers of belief were put to too great a strain by a +tale of more than ordinary marvel, Bill would follow with one of such +utter impossibility that the company would feel that the limit had been +reached, and the yarns would cease. But after the first week most of the +time was given to The Pilot, who would read to us of the deeds of the +mighty men of old, who had made and wrecked empires. + +What happy nights they were to those cowboys, who had been cast up like +driftwood upon this strange and lonely shore! Some of them had never +known what it was to have a thought beyond the work and sport of the +day. And the world into which The Pilot was ushering them was all new +and wonderful to them. Happy nights, without a care, but that The Pilot +would not get the ghastly look out of his face, and laughed at the idea +of going away till the church was built. And, indeed, we would all have +sorely missed him, and so he stayed. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +HOW BILL HIT THE TRAIL + + +When "the crowd" was with us The Pilot read us all sorts of tales of +adventures in all lands by heroes of all ages, but when we three sat +together by our fire The Pilot would always read us tales of the heroes +of sacred story, and these delighted Bill more than those of any of +the ancient empires of the past. He had his favorites. Abraham, Moses, +Joshua, Gideon, never failed to arouse his admiration. But Jacob was to +him always "a mean cuss," and David he could not appreciate. Most of +all he admired Moses and the Apostle Paul, whom he called "that little +chap." But, when the reading was about the One Great Man that moved +majestic amid the gospel stories, Bill made no comments; He was too high +for approval. + +By and by Bill began to tell these tales to the boys, and one night, +when a quiet mood had fallen upon the company, Bill broke the silence. + +"Say, Pilot, where was it that the little chap got mixed up into that +riot?" + +"Riot!" said The Pilot. + +"Yes; you remember when he stood off the whole gang from the stairs?" + +"Oh, yes, at Jerusalem!" + +"Yes, that's the spot. Perhaps you would read that to the boys. Good +yarn! Little chap, you know, stood up and told 'em they were all sorts +of blanked thieves and cut-throats, and stood 'em off. Played it alone, +too." + +Most of the boys failed to recognize the story in its new dress. There +was much interest. + +"Who was the duck? Who was the gang? What was the row about?" + +"The Pilot here'll tell you. If you'd kind o' give 'em a lead before you +begin, they'd catch on to the yarn better." This last to The Pilot, who +was preparing to read. + +"Well, it was at Jerusalem," began The Pilot, when Bill interrupted: + +"If I might remark, perhaps it might help the boys on to the trail +mebbe, if you'd tell 'em how the little chap struck his new gait." So he +designated the Apostle's conversion. + +Then The Pilot introduced the Apostle with some formality to the +company, describing with such vivid touches his life and early training, +his sudden wrench from all he held dear, under the stress of a new +conviction, his magnificent enthusiasm and courage, his tenderness and +patience, that I was surprised to find myself regarding him as a sort of +hero, and the boys were all ready to back him against any odds. As The +Pilot read the story of the Arrest at Jerusalem, stopping now and then +to picture the scene, we saw it all and were in the thick of it. The +raging crowd hustling and beating the life out of the brave little man, +the sudden thrust of the disciplined Roman guard through the mass, the +rescue, the pause on the stairway, the calm face of the little hero +beckoning for a hearing, the quieting of the frantic, frothing mob, the +fearless speech--all passed before us. The boys were thrilled. + +"Good stuff, eh?" + +"Ain't he a daisy?" + +"Daisy! He's a whole sunflower patch!" + +"Yes," drawled Bill, highly appreciating their marks of approval. +"That's what I call a partickler fine character of a man. There ain't no +manner of insecks on to him." + +"You bet!" said Hi. + +"I say," broke in one of the boys, who was just emerging from the +tenderfoot stage, "o' course that's in the Bible, ain't it?" + +The Pilot assented. + +"Well, how do you know it's true?" + +The Pilot was proceeding to elaborate his argument when Bill cut in +somewhat more abruptly than was his wont. + +"Look here, young feller!" Bill's voice was in the tone of command. The +man looked as he was bid. "How do you know anything's true? How do you +know The Pilot here's true when he speaks? Can't you tell by the feel? +You know by the sound of his voice, don't you?" Bill paused and the +young fellow agreed readily. + +"Well how do you know a blanked son of a she jackass when you see him?" +Again Bill paused. There was no reply. + +"Well," said Bill, resuming his deliberate drawl. "I'll give you the +information without extra charge. It's by the sound he makes when he +opens his blanked jaw." + +"But," went on the young skeptic, nettled at the laugh that went round, +"that don't prove anything. You know," turning to The Pilot, "that there +are heaps of people who don't believe the Bible." + +The Pilot nodded. + +"Some of the smartest, best-educated men are agnostics," proceeded the +young man, warming to his theme, and failing to notice the stiffening of +Bill's lank figure. "I don't know but what I am one myself." + +"That so?" said Bill, with sudden interest. + +"I guess so," was the modest reply. + +"Got it bad?" went on Bill, with a note of anxiety in his tone. + +But the young man turned to The Pilot and tried to open a fresh +argument. + +"Whatever he's got," said Bill to the others, in a mild voice, "it's +spoilin' his manners." + +"Yes," went on Bill, meditatively, after the slight laugh had died, +"it's ruinin' to the judgment. He don't seem to know when he interferes +with the game. Pity, too." + +Still the argument went on. + +"Seems as if he ought to take somethin'," said Bill, in a voice +suspiciously mild. "What would you suggest?" + +"A walk, mebbe!" said Hi, in delighted expectation. + +"I hold the opinion that you have mentioned an uncommonly vallable +remedy, better'n Pain Killer almost." + +Bill rose languidly. + +"I say," he drawled, tapping the young fellow, "it appears to me a +little walk would perhaps be good, mebbe." + +"All right, wait till I get my cap," was the unsuspecting reply. + +"I don't think perhaps you won't need it, mebbe. I cherish the opinion +you'll, perhaps, be warm enough." Bill's voice had unconsciously passed +into a sterner tone. Hi was on his feet and at the door. + +"This here interview is private AND confidential," said Bill to his +partner. + +"Exactly," said Hi, opening the door. At this the young fellow, who was +a strapping six-footer, but soft and flabby, drew back and refused to +go. He was too late. Bill's grip was on his collar and out they went +into the snow, and behind them Hi closed the door. In vain the young +fellow struggled to wrench himself free from the hands that had him by +the shoulder and the back of the neck. I took it all in from the window. +He might have been a boy for all the effect his plungings had upon the +long, sinewy arms that gripped him so fiercely. After a minute's furious +struggle the young fellow stood quiet, when Bill suddenly shifted his +grip from the shoulder to the seat of his buckskin trousers. Then began +a series of evolutions before the house--up and down, forward and back, +which the unfortunate victim, with hands wildly clutching at empty +air, was quite powerless to resist till he was brought up panting and +gasping, subdued, to a standstill. + +"I'll larn you agnostics and several other kinds of ticks," said Bill, +in a terrible voice, his drawl lengthening perceptibly. "Come round +here, will you, and shove your blanked second-handed trash down our +throats?" Bill paused to get words; then, bursting out in rising wrath: + +"There ain't no sootable words for sich conduct. By the livin' Jeminy--" +He suddenly swung his prisoner off his feet, lifted him bodily, and held +him over his head at arm's length. "I've a notion to--" + +"Don't! don't! for Heaven's sake!" cried the struggling wretch, "I'll +stop it! I will!" + +Bill at once lowered him and set him on his feet. + +"All right! Shake!" he said, holding out his hand, which the other took +with caution. + +It was a remarkably sudden conversion and lasting in its effects. There +was no more agnosticism in the little group that gathered around The +Pilot for the nightly reading. + +The interest in the reading kept growing night by night. + +"Seems as if The Pilot was gittin' in his work," said Bill to me; and +looking at the grave, eager faces, I agreed. He was getting in his work +with Bill, too; though perhaps Bill did not know it. I remember one +night, when the others had gone, The Pilot was reading to us the Parable +of the Talents, Bill was particularly interested in the servant who +failed in his duty. + +"Ornery cuss, eh?" he remarked; "and gall, too, eh? Served him blamed +well right, in my opinion!" + +But when the practical bearing of the parable became clear to him, after +long silence, he said, slowly: + +"Well, that there seems to indicate that it's about time for me to get +a rustle on." Then, after another silence, he said, hesitatingly, "This +here church-buildin' business now, do you think that'll perhaps count, +mebbe? I guess not, eh? 'Tain't much, o' course, anyway." Poor Bill, he +was like a child, and The Pilot handled him with a mother's touch. + +"What are you best at, Bill?" + +"Bronco-bustin' and cattle," said Bill, wonderingly; "that's my line." + +"Well, Bill, my line is preaching just now, and piloting, you know." The +Pilot's smile was like a sunbeam on a rainy day, for there were tears in +his eyes and voice. "And we have just got to be faithful. You see +what he says: 'Well done, good and FAITHFUL servant. Thou hast been +FAITHFUL.'" + +Bill was puzzled. + +"Faithful!" he repeated. "Does that mean with the cattle, perhaps?" + +"Yes, that's just it, Bill, and with everything else that comes your +way." + +And Bill never forgot that lesson, for I heard him, with a kind of quiet +enthusiasm, giving it to Hi as a great find. "Now, I call that a fair +deal," he said to his friend; "gives every man a show. No cards up the +sleeve." + +"That's so," was Hi's thoughtful reply; "distributes the trumps." + +Somehow Bill came to be regarded as an authority upon questions of +religion and morals. No one ever accused him of "gettin' religion." He +went about his work in his slow, quiet way, but he was always sharing +his discoveries with "the boys." And if anyone puzzled him with +subtleties he never rested till he had him face to face with The +Pilot. And so it came that these two drew to each other with more than +brotherly affection. When Bill got into difficulty with problems that +have vexed the souls of men far wiser than he, The Pilot would either +disentangle the knots or would turn his mind to the verities that stood +out sure and clear, and Bill would be content. + +"That's good enough for me," he would say, and his heart would be at +rest. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +HOW THE SWAN CREEK CHURCH WAS OPENED + + +When, near the end of the year, The Pilot fell sick, Bill nursed him +like a mother and sent him off for a rest and change to Gwen, forbidding +him to return till the church was finished and visiting him twice a +week. The love between the two was most beautiful, and, when I find my +heart grow hard and unbelieving in men and things, I let my mind wander +back to a scene that I came upon in front of Gwen's house. These two +were standing alone in the clear moonlight, Bill with his hand upon The +Pilot's shoulder, and The Pilot with his arm around Bill's neck. + +"Dear old Bill," The Pilot was saying, "dear old Bill," and the voice +was breaking into a sob. And Bill, standing stiff and straight, looked +up at the stars, coughed and swallowed hard for some moments, and said, +in a queer, croaky voice: + +"Shouldn't wonder if a Chinook would blow up." + +"Chinook?" laughed The Pilot, with a catch in his voice. "You dear old +humbug," and he stood watching till the lank form swayed down into the +canyon. + +The day of the church opening came, as all days, however long waited +for, will come--a bright, beautiful Christmas Day. The air was still and +full of frosty light, as if arrested by a voice of command, waiting the +word to move. The hills lay under their dazzling coverlets, asleep. Back +of all, the great peaks lifted majestic heads out of the dark forests +and gazed with calm, steadfast faces upon the white, sunlit world. +To-day, as the light filled up the cracks that wrinkled their hard +faces, they seemed to smile, as if the Christmas joy had somehow moved +something in their old, stony hearts. + +The people were all there--farmers, ranchers, cowboys, wives and +children--all happy, all proud of their new church, and now all +expectant, waiting for The Pilot and the Old Timer, who were to drive +down if The Pilot was fit and were to bring Gwen if the day was fine. As +the time passed on, Bill, as master of ceremonies, began to grow uneasy. +Then Indian Joe appeared and handed a note to Bill. He read it, grew +gray in the face and passed it to me. Looking, I saw in poor, wavering +lines the words, "Dear Bill. Go on with the opening. Sing the Psalm, +you know the one, and say a prayer, and oh, come to me quick, Bill. Your +Pilot." + +Bill gradually pulled himself together, announced in a strange voice, +"The Pilot can't come," handed me the Psalm, and said: + +"Make them sing." + +It was that grand Psalm for all hill peoples, "I to the hills will lift +mine eyes," and with wondering faces they sang the strong, steadying +words. After the Psalm was over the people sat and waited, Bill looked +at the Hon. Fred Ashley, then at Robbie Muir, then said to me in a low +voice: + +"Kin you make a prayer?" + +I shook my head, ashamed as I did so of my cowardice. + +Again Bill paused, then said: + +"The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer. Kin anyone make one?" + +Again dead, solemn silence. + +Then Hi, who was near the back, said, coming to his partner's help: + +"What's the matter with you trying, yourself, Bill?" + +The red began to come up in Bill's white face. + +"'Taint in my line. But The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer, and +I'm going to stay with the game." Then, leaning on the pulpit, he said: + +"Let's pray," and began: + +"God Almighty, I ain't no good at this, and perhaps you'll understand if +I don't put things right." Then a pause followed, during which I heard +some of the women beginning to sob. + +"What I want to say," Bill went on, "is, we're mighty glad about this +church, which we know it's you and The Pilot that's worked it. And we're +all glad to chip in." + +Then again he paused, and, looking up, I saw his hard, gray face working +and two tears stealing down his cheeks. Then he started again: + +"But about The Pilot--I don't want to persoom--but if you don't mind, +we'd like to have him stay--in fact, don't see how we kin do without +him--look at all the boys here; he's just getting his work in and is +bringin' 'em right along, and, God Almighty, if you take him away it +might be a good thing for himself, but for us--oh, God," the voice +quivered and was silent "Amen." + +Then someone, I think it must have been the Lady Charlotte, began: "Our +Father," and all joined that could join, to the end. For a few moments +Bill stood up, looking at them silently. Then, as if remembering his +duty, he said: + +"This here church is open. Excuse me." + +He stood at the door, gave a word of direction to Hi, who had followed +him out, and leaping on his bronco shook him out into a hard gallop. + +The Swan Creek Church was opened. The form of service may not have been +correct, but, if great love counts for anything and appealing faith, +then all that was necessary was done. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE PILOT'S LAST PORT + + +In the old times a funeral was regarded in the Swan Creek country as a +kind of solemn festivity. In those days, for the most part, men died in +their boots and were planted with much honor and loyal libation. There +was often neither shroud nor coffin, and in the Far West many a poor +fellow lies as he fell, wrapped in his own or his comrade's blanket. + +It was the manager of the X L Company's ranch that introduced crape. +The occasion was the funeral of one of the ranch cowboys, killed by his +bronco, but when the pall-bearers and mourners appeared with bands and +streamers of crape, this was voted by the majority as "too gay." That +circumstance alone was sufficient to render that funeral famous, but it +was remembered, too, as having shocked the proprieties in another and +more serious manner. No one would be so narrow-minded as to object to +the custom of the return procession falling into a series of horse-races +of the wildest description, and ending up at Latour's in a general +riot. But to race with the corpse was considered bad form. The +"corpse-driver," as he was called, could hardly be blamed on this +occasion. His acknowledged place was at the head of the procession, and +it was a point of honor that that place should be retained. The fault +clearly lay with the driver of the X L ranch sleigh, containing the +mourners (an innovation, by the way), who felt aggrieved that Hi Kendal, +driving the Ashley team with the pall-bearers (another innovation), +should be given the place of honor next the corpse. The X L driver +wanted to know what, in the name of all that was black and blue, the +Ashley Ranch had to do with the funeral? Whose was that corpse, anyway? +Didn't it belong to the X L ranch? Hi, on the other hand, contended that +the corpse was in charge of the pall-bearers. "It was their duty to see +it right to the grave, and if they were not on hand, how was it goin' to +get there? They didn't expect it would git up and get there by itself, +did they? Hi didn't want no blanked mourners foolin' round that corp +till it was properly planted; after that they might git in their +work." But the X L driver could not accept this view, and at the first +opportunity slipped past Hi and his pall-bearers and took the place next +the sleigh that carried the coffin. It is possible that Hi might have +borne with this affront and loss of position with even mind, but the +jeering remarks of the mourners as they slid past triumphantly could not +be endured, and the next moment the three teams were abreast in a race +as for dear life. The corpse-driver, having the advantage of the beaten +track, soon left the other two behind running neck and neck for second +place, which was captured finally by Hi and maintained to the grave +side, in spite of many attempts on the part of the X L's. The whole +proceeding, however, was considered quite improper, and at Latour's, +that night, after full and bibulous discussion, it was agreed that the +corpse-driver fairly distributed the blame. "For his part," he said, "he +knew he hadn't ought to make no corp git any such move on, but he wasn't +goin' to see that there corp take second place at his own funeral. +Not if he could help it. And as for the others, he thought that the +pall-bearers had a blanked sight more to do with the plantin' than them +giddy mourners." + +But when they gathered at the Meredith ranch to carry out The Pilot +to his grave it was felt that the Foothill Country was called to a new +experience. They were all there. The men from the Porcupine and from +beyond the Fort, the Police with the Inspector in command, all the +farmers for twenty miles around, and of course all the ranchers and +cowboys of the Swan Creek country. There was no effort at repression. +There was no need, for in the cowboys, for the first time in their +experience, there was no heart for fun. And as they rode up and hitched +their horses to the fence, or drove their sleighs into the yard and +took off the bells, there was no loud-voiced salutation, no guying nor +chaffing, but with silent nod they took their places in the crowd about +the door or passed into the kitchen. + +The men from the Porcupine could not quite understand the gloomy +silence. It was something unprecedented in a country where men laughed +all care to scorn and saluted death with a nod. But they were quick to +read signs, and with characteristic courtesy they fell in with the mood +they could not understand. There is no man living so quick to feel your +mood, and so ready to adapt himself to it, as is the true Westerner. + +This was the day of the cowboy's grief. To the rest of the community +The Pilot was preacher; to them he was comrade and friend. They had been +slow to admit him to their confidence, but steadily he had won his place +with them, till within the last few months they had come to count him as +of themselves. He had ridden the range with them; he had slept in their +shacks and cooked his meals on their tin stoves; and, besides, he was +Bill's chum. That alone was enough to give him a right to all they +owned. He was theirs, and they were only beginning to take full pride in +him when he passed out from them, leaving an emptiness in their life new +and unexplained. No man in that country had ever shown concern for them, +nor had it occurred to them that any man could, till The Pilot came. +It took them long to believe that the interest he showed in them was +genuine and not simply professional. Then, too, from a preacher they +had expected chiefly pity, warning, rebuke. The Pilot astonished them +by giving them respect, admiration, and open-hearted affection. It was +months before they could get over their suspicion that he was humbugging +them. When once they did, they gave him back without knowing it all the +trust and love of their big, generous hearts. He had made this world new +to some of them, and to all had given glimpses of the next. It was no +wonder that they stood in dumb groups about the house where the man, who +had done all this for them and had been all this to them lay dead. + +There was no demonstration of grief. The Duke was in command, and his +quiet, firm voice, giving directions, helped all to self-control. The +women who were gathered in the middle room were weeping quietly. Bill +was nowhere to be seen, but near the inner door sat Gwen in her chair, +with Lady Charlotte beside her, holding her hand. Her face, worn with +long suffering, was pale, but serene as the morning sky, and with not a +trace of tears. As my eye caught hers, she beckoned me to her. + +"Where's Bill?" she said. "Bring him in." + +I found him at the back of the house. + +"Aren't you coming in, Bill?" I said. + +"No; I guess there's plenty without me," he said, in his slow way. + +"You'd better come in; the service is going to begin," I urged. + +"Don't seem as if I cared for to hear anythin' much. I ain't much used +to preachin', anyway," said Bill, with careful indifference, but he +added to himself, "except his, of course." + +"Come in, Bill," I urged. "It will look queer, you know," but Bill +replied: + +"I guess I'll not bother," adding, after a pause: "You see, there's them +wimmin turnin' on the waterworks, and like as not they'd swamp me sure." + +"That's so," said Hi, who was standing near, in silent sympathy with his +friend's grief. + +I reported to Gwen, who answered in her old imperious way, "Tell him I +want him." I took Bill the message. + +"Why didn't you say so before?" he said, and, starting up, he passed +into the house and took up his position behind Gwen's chair. Opposite, +and leaning against the door, stood The Duke, with a look of quiet +earnestness on his handsome face. At his side stood the Hon. +Fred Ashley, and behind him the Old Timer, looking bewildered and +woe-stricken. The Pilot had filled a large place in the old man's life. +The rest of the men stood about the room and filled the kitchen beyond, +all quiet, solemn, sad. + +In Gwen's room, the one farthest in, lay The Pilot, stately and +beautiful under the magic touch of death. And as I stood and looked down +upon the quiet face I saw why Gwen shed no tear, but carried a look of +serene triumph. She had read the face aright. The lines of weariness +that had been growing so painfully clear the last few months were +smoothed out, the look of care was gone, and in place of weariness and +care, was the proud smile of victory and peace. He had met his foe and +was surprised to find his terror gone. + +The service was beautiful in its simplicity. The minister, The Pilot's +chief, had come out from town to take charge. He was rather a little +man, but sturdy and well set. His face was burnt and seared with the +suns and frosts he had braved for years. Still in the prime of his +manhood, his hair and beard were grizzled and his face deep-lined, for +the toils and cares of a pioneer missionary's life are neither few nor +light. But out of his kindly blue eye looked the heart of a hero, and +as he spoke to us we felt the prophet's touch and caught a gleam of the +prophet's fire. + +"I have fought the fight," he read. The ring in his voice lifted up all +our heads, and, as he pictured to us the life of that battered hero who +had written these words, I saw Bill's eyes begin to gleam and his lank +figure straighten out its lazy angles. Then he turned the leaves quickly +and read again, "Let not your heart be troubled . . . in my father's +house are many mansions." His voice took a lower, sweeter tone; he +looked over our heads, and for a few moments spoke of the eternal hope. +Then he came back to us, and, looking round into the faces turned so +eagerly to him, talked to us of The Pilot--how at the first he had sent +him to us with fear and trembling--he was so young--but how he had come +to trust in him and to rejoice in his work, and to hope much from his +life. Now it was all over; but he felt sure his young friend had not +given his life in vain. He paused as he looked from one to the other, +till his eyes rested on Gwen's face. I was startled, as I believe he +was, too, at the smile that parted her lips, so evidently saying: "Yes, +but how much better I know than you." + +"Yes," he went on, after a pause, answering her smile, "you all know +better than I that his work among you will not pass away with his +removal, but endure while you live," and the smile on Gwen's face grew +brighter. "And now you must not grudge him his reward and his rest . . . +and his home." And Bill, nodding his head slowly, said under his breath, +"That's so." + +Then they sang that hymn of the dawning glory of Immanuel's land,--Lady +Charlotte playing the organ and The Duke leading with clear, steady +voice verse after verse. When they came to the last verse the minister +made a sign and, while they waited, he read the words: + + + "I've wrestled on towards heaven + 'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide." + + +And so on to that last victorious cry,-- + + + "I hail the glory dawning + In Immanuel's Land." + + +For a moment it looked as if the singing could not go on, for tears +were on the minister's face and the women were beginning to sob, but The +Duke's clear, quiet voice caught up the song and steadied them all to +the end. + +After the prayer they all went in and looked at The Pilot's face and +passed out, leaving behind only those that knew him best. The Duke and +the Hon. Fred stood looking down upon the quiet face. + +"The country has lost a good man, Duke," said the Hon. Fred. The Duke +bowed silently. Then Lady Charlotte came and gazed a moment. + +"Dear Pilot," she whispered, her tears falling fast. "Dear, dear Pilot! +Thank God for you! You have done much for me." Then she stooped and +kissed him on his cold lips and on his forehead. + +Then Gwen seemed to suddenly waken as from a dream. She turned and, +looking up in a frightened way, said to Bill hurriedly: + +"I want to see him again. Carry me!" + +And Bill gathered her up in his arms and took her in. As they looked +down upon the dead face with its look of proud peace and touched with +the stateliness of death, Gwen's fear passed away. But when The Duke +made to cover the face, Gwen drew a sharp breath and, clinging to Bill, +said, with a sudden gasp: + +"Oh, Bill, I can't bear it alone. I'm afraid alone." + +She was thinking of the long, weary days of pain before her that she +must face now without The Pilot's touch and smile and voice. + +"Me, too," said Bill, thinking of the days before him. He could have +said nothing better. Gwen looked in his face a moment, then said: + +"We'll help each other," and Bill, swallowing hard, could only nod his +head in reply. Once more they looked upon The Pilot, leaning down and +lingering over him, and then Gwen said quietly: + +"Take me away, Bill," and Bill carried her into the outer room. Turning +back I caught a look on The Duke's face so full of grief that I could +not help showing my amazement. He noticed and said: + +"The best man I ever knew, Connor. He has done something for me too. +. . . I'd give the world to die like that." + +Then he covered the face. + +We sat Gwen's window, Bill, with Gwen in his arms, and I watching. +Down the sloping, snow-covered hill wound the procession of sleighs and +horsemen, without sound of voice or jingle of bell till, one by one, +they passed out of our sight and dipped down into the canyon. But we +knew every step of the winding trail and followed them in fancy through +that fairy scene of mystic wonderland. We knew how the great elms and +the poplars and the birches clinging to the snowy sides interlaced their +bare boughs into a network of bewildering complexity, and how the cedars +and balsams and spruces stood in the bottom, their dark boughs weighted +down with heavy white mantles of snow, and how every stump and fallen +log and rotting stick was made a thing of beauty by the snow that had +fallen so gently on them in that quiet spot. And we could see the rocks +of the canyon sides gleam out black from under overhanging snow-banks, +and we could hear the song of the Swan in its many tones, now under +an icy sheet, cooing comfortably, and then bursting out into sunlit +laughter and leaping into a foaming pool, to glide away smoothly +murmuring its delight to the white banks that curved to kiss the dark +water as it fled. And where the flowers had been, the violets and the +wind-flowers and the clematis and the columbine and all the ferns and +flowering shrubs, there lay the snow. Everywhere the snow, pure, white, +and myriad-gemmed, but every flake a flower's shroud. + +Out where the canyon opened to the sunny, sloping prairie, there they +would lay The Pilot to sleep, within touch of the canyon he loved, with +all its sleeping things. And there he lies to this time. But Spring has +come many times to the canyon since that winter day, and has called to +the sleeping flowers, summoning them forth in merry troops, and ever +more and more till the canyon ripples with them. And lives are like +flowers. In dying they abide not alone, but sow themselves and bloom +again with each returning spring, and ever more and more. + +For often during the following years, as here and there I came upon one +of those that companied with us in those Foothill days, I would catch a +glimpse in word and deed and look of him we called, first in jest, but +afterwards with true and tender feeling we were not ashamed to own, our +Sky Pilot. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sky Pilot, by Ralph Connor + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SKY PILOT *** + +***** This file should be named 3248.txt or 3248.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/4/3248/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +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. + + + + + +THE SKY PILOT + +A TALE OF THE FOOTHILLS + + +by Ralph Connor + + + +PREFACE + + +The measure of a man's power to help his brother is the measure of +the love in the heart of him and of the faith he has that at last +the good will win. With this love that seeks not its own and this +faith that grips the heart of things, he goes out to meet many +fortunes, but not that of defeat. + +This story is of the people of the Foothill Country; of those men +of adventurous spirit, who left homes of comfort, often of luxury, +because of the stirring in them to be and to do some worthy thing; +and of those others who, outcast from their kind, sought to find in +these valleys, remote and lonely, a spot where they could forget +and be forgotten. + +The waving skyline of the Foothills was the boundary of their +lookout upon life. Here they dwelt safe from the scanning of the +world, freed from all restraints of social law, denied the gentler +influences of home and the sweet uplift of a good woman's face. +What wonder if, with the new freedom beating in their hearts and +ears, some rode fierce and hard the wild trail to the cut-bank of +destruction! + +The story is, too, of how a man with vision beyond the waving +skyline came to them with firm purpose to play the brother's part, +and by sheer love of them and by faith in them, win them to believe +that life is priceless, and that it is good to be a man. + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I. The Foothills Country + +II. The Company of the Noble Seven + +III. The Coming of the Pilot + +IV. The Pilot's Measure + +V. First Blood + +VI. His Second Wind + +VII. The Last of the Permit Sundays + +VIII. The Pilot's Grip + +IX. Gwen + +X. Gwen's First Prayers + +XI. Gwen's Challenge + +XII. Gwen's Canyon + +XIII. The Canyon Flowers + +XIV. Bill's Bluff + +XV. Bill's Partner + +XVI. Bill's Financing + +XVII. How the Pinto Sold + +XVIII. The Lady Charlotte + +XIX. Through Gwen's Window + +XX. How Bill Favored "Home-Grown Industries" + +XXI. How Bill Hit the Trail + +XXII. How the Swan Creek Church was Opened + +XXIII. The Pilot's Last Port + + + + +THE SKY PILOT + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FOOTHILLS COUNTRY + + +Beyond the great prairies and in the shadow of the Rockies lie the +Foothills. For nine hundred miles the prairies spread themselves +out in vast level reaches, and then begin to climb over softly +rounded mounds that ever grow higher and sharper till, here and +there, they break into jagged points and at last rest upon the +great bases of the mighty mountains. These rounded hills that join +the prairies to the mountains form the Foothill Country. They +extend for about a hundred miles only, but no other hundred miles +of the great West are so full of interest and romance. The natural +features of the country combine the beauties of prairie and of +mountain scenery. There are valleys so wide that the farther side +melts into the horizon, and uplands so vast as to suggest the +unbroken prairie. Nearer the mountains the valleys dip deep and +ever deeper till they narrow into canyons through which mountain +torrents pour their blue-gray waters from glaciers that lie +glistening between the white peaks far away. Here are the great +ranges on which feed herds of cattle and horses. Here are the +homes of the ranchmen, in whose wild, free, lonely existence there +mingles much of the tragedy and comedy, the humor and pathos, that +go to make up the romance of life. Among them are to be found the +most enterprising, the most daring, of the peoples of the old +lands. The broken, the outcast, the disappointed, these too have +found their way to the ranches among the Foothills. A country it +is whose sunlit hills and shaded valleys reflect themselves in the +lives of its people; for nowhere are the contrasts of light and +shade more vividly seen than in the homes of the ranchmen of the +Albertas. + +The experiences of my life have confirmed in me the orthodox +conviction that Providence sends his rain upon the evil as upon the +good; else I should never have set my eyes upon the Foothill +country, nor touched its strangely fascinating life, nor come to +know and love the most striking man of all that group of striking +men of the Foothill country--the dear old Pilot, as we came to call +him long afterwards. My first year in college closed in gloom. My +guardian was in despair. From this distance of years I pity him. +Then I considered him unnecessarily concerned about me--"a fussy +old hen," as one of the boys suggested. The invitation from Jack +Dale, a distant cousin, to spend a summer with him on his ranch in +South Alberta came in the nick of time. I was wild to go. My +guardian hesitated long; but no other solution of the problem of my +disposal offering, he finally agreed that I could not well get into +more trouble by going than by staying. Hence it was that, in the +early summer of one of the eighties, I found myself attached to a +Hudson's Bay Company freight train, making our way from a little +railway town in Montana towards the Canadian boundary. Our train +consisted of six wagons and fourteen yoke of oxen, with three +cayuses, in charge of a French half-breed and his son, a lad of +about sixteen. We made slow enough progress, but every hour of the +long day, from the dim, gray, misty light of dawn to the soft glow +of shadowy evening, was full of new delights to me. On the evening +of the third day we reached the Line Stopping Place, where Jack +Dale met us. I remember well how my heart beat with admiration of +the easy grace with which he sailed down upon us in the loose- +jointed cowboy style, swinging his own bronco and the little cayuse +he was leading for me into the circle of the wagons, careless of +ropes and freight and other impedimenta. He flung himself off +before his bronco had come to a stop, and gave me a grip that made +me sure of my welcome. It was years since he had seen a man from +home, and the eager joy in his eyes told of long days and nights of +lonely yearning for the old days and the old faces. I came to +understand this better after my two years' stay among these hills +that have a strange power on some days to waken in a man longings +that make his heart grow sick. When supper was over we gathered +about the little fire, while Jack and the half-breed smoked and +talked. I lay on my back looking up at the pale, steady stars in +the deep blue of the cloudless sky, and listened in fullness of +contented delight to the chat between Jack and the driver. Now and +then I asked a question, but not too often. It is a listening +silence that draws tales from a western man, not vexing questions. +This much I had learned already from my three days' travel. So I +lay and listened, and the tales of that night are mingled with the +warm evening lights and the pale stars and the thoughts of home +that Jack's coming seemed to bring. + +Next morning before sun-up we had broken camp and were ready for +our fifty-mile ride. There was a slight drizzle of rain and, +though rain and shine were alike to him, Jack insisted that I +should wear my mackintosh. This garment was quite new and had a +loose cape which rustled as I moved toward my cayuse. He was an +ugly-looking little animal, with more white in his eye than I cared +to see. Altogether, I did not draw toward him. Nor did he to me, +apparently. For as I took him by the bridle he snorted and sidled +about with great swiftness, and stood facing me with his feet +planted firmly in front of him as if prepared to reject overtures +of any kind soever. I tried to approach him with soothing words, +but he persistently backed away until we stood looking at each +other at the utmost distance of his outstretched neck and my +outstretched arm. At this point Jack came to my assistance, got +the pony by the other side of the bridle, and held him fast till I +got into position to mount. Taking a firm grip of the horn of the +Mexican saddle, I threw my leg over his back. The next instant I +was flying over his head. My only emotion was one of surprise, the +thing was so unexpected. I had fancied myself a fair rider, having +had experience of farmers' colts of divers kinds, but this was +something quite new. The half-breed stood looking on, mildly +interested; Jack was smiling, but the boy was grinning with +delight. + +"I'll take the little beast," said Jack. But the grinning boy +braced me up and I replied as carelessly as my shaking voice would +allow: + +"Oh, I guess I'll manage him," and once more got into position. +But no sooner had I got into the saddle than the pony sprang +straight up into the air and lit with his back curved into a bow, +his four legs gathered together and so absolutely rigid that the +shock made my teeth rattle. It was my first experience of +"bucking." Then the little brute went seriously to work to get rid +of the rustling, flapping thing on his back. He would back +steadily for some seconds, then, with two or three forward plunges, +he would stop as if shot and spring straight into the upper air, +lighting with back curved and legs rigid as iron. Then he would +walk on his hind legs for a few steps, then throw himself with +amazing rapidity to one side and again proceed to buck with vicious +diligence. + +"Stick to him!" yelled Jack, through his shouts of laughter. +"You'll make him sick before long." + +I remember thinking that unless his insides were somewhat more +delicately organized than his external appearance would lead one to +suppose the chances were that the little brute would be the last to +succumb to sickness. To make matters worse, a wilder jump than +ordinary threw my cape up over my head, so that I was in complete +darkness. And now he had me at his mercy, and he knew no pity. He +kicked and plunged and reared and bucked, now on his front legs, +now on his hind legs, often on his knees, while I, in the darkness, +could only cling to the horn of the saddle. At last, in one of the +gleams of light that penetrated the folds of my enveloping cape, I +found that the horn had slipped to his side, so the next time he +came to his knees I threw myself off. I am anxious to make this +point clear, for, from the expression of triumph on the face of the +grinning boy, and his encomiums of the pony, I gathered that he +scored a win for the cayuse. Without pause that little brute +continued for some seconds to buck and plunge even after my +dismounting, as if he were some piece of mechanism that must run +down before it could stop. + +By this time I was sick enough and badly shaken in my nerve, but +the triumphant shouts and laughter of the boy and the complacent +smiles on the faces of Jack and the half-breed stirred my wrath. I +tore off the cape and, having got the saddle put right, seized +Jack's riding whip and, disregarding his remonstrances, sprang on +my steed once more, and before he could make up his mind as to his +line of action plied him so vigorously with the rawhide that he set +off over the prairie at full gallop, and in a few minutes came +round to the camp quite subdued, to the boy's great disappointment +and to my own great surprise. Jack was highly pleased, and even +the stolid face of the half-breed showed satisfaction. + +"Don't think I put this up on you," Jack said. "It was that cape. +He ain't used to such frills. But it was a circus," he added, +going off into a fit of laughter, "worth five dollars any day." + +"You bet!" said the half-breed. "Dat's make pretty beeg fun, eh?" + +It seemed to me that it depended somewhat upon the point of view, +but I merely agreed with him, only too glad to be so well out of +the fight. + +All day we followed the trail that wound along the shoulders of the +round-topped hills or down their long slopes into the wide, grassy +valleys. Here and there the valleys were cut through by coulees +through which ran swift, blue-gray rivers, clear and icy cold, +while from the hilltops we caught glimpses of little lakes covered +with wild-fowl that shrieked and squawked and splashed, careless of +danger. Now and then we saw what made a black spot against the +green of the prairie, and Jack told me it was a rancher's shack. +How remote from the great world, and how lonely it seemed!--this +little black shack among these multitudinous hills. + +I shall never forget the summer evening when Jack and I rode into +Swan Creek. I say into--but the village was almost entirely one of +imagination, in that it consisted of the Stopping Place, a long log +building, a story and a half high, with stables behind, and the +store in which the post-office was kept and over which the owner +dwelt. But the situation was one of great beauty. On one side the +prairie rambled down from the hills and then stretched away in +tawny levels into the misty purple at the horizon; on the other it +clambered over the round, sunny tops to the dim blue of the +mountains beyond. + +In this world, where it is impossible to reach absolute values, we +are forced to hold things relatively, and in contrast with the +long, lonely miles of our ride during the day these two houses, +with their outbuildings, seemed a center of life. Some horses were +tied to the rail that ran along in front of the Stopping Place. + +"Hello!" said Jack, "I guess the Noble Seven are in town." + +"And who are they?" I asked. + +"Oh," he replied, with a shrug, "they are the elite Of Swan Creek; +and by Jove," he added, "this must be a Permit Night." + +"What does that mean?" I asked, as we rode up towards the tie rail. + +"Well," said Jack, in a low tone, for some men were standing about +the door, "you see, this is a prohibition country, but when one of +the boys feels as if he were going to have a spell of sickness he +gets a permit to bring in a few gallons for medicinal purposes; and +of course, the other boys being similarly exposed, he invites them +to assist him in taking preventive measures. And," added Jack, +with a solemn wink, "it is remarkable, in a healthy country like +this, how many epidemics come near ketching us." + +And with this mystifying explanation we joined the mysterious +company of the Noble Seven. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE COMPANY OF THE NOBLE SEVEN + + +As we were dismounting, the cries, "Hello, Jack!" "How do, Dale?" +"Hello, old Smoke!" in the heartiest of tones, made me see that my +cousin was a favorite with the men grouped about the door. Jack +simply nodded in reply and then presented me in due form. "My +tenderfoot cousin from the effete," he said, with a flourish. I +was surprised at the grace of the bows made me by these roughly- +dressed, wild-looking fellows. I might have been in a London +drawing-room. I was put at my ease at once by the kindliness of +their greeting, for, upon Jack's introduction, I was admitted at +once into their circle, which, to a tenderfoot, was usually closed. + +What a hardy-looking lot they were! Brown, spare, sinewy and hard +as nails, they appeared like soldiers back from a hard campaign. +They moved and spoke with an easy, careless air of almost lazy +indifference, but their eyes had a trick of looking straight out at +you, cool and fearless, and you felt they were fit and ready. + +That night I was initiated into the Company of the Noble Seven--but +of the ceremony I regret to say I retain but an indistinct memory; +for they drank as they rode, hard and long, and it was only Jack's +care that got me safely home that night. + +The Company of the Noble Seven was the dominant social force in the +Swan Creek country. Indeed, it was the only social force Swan +Creek knew. Originally consisting of seven young fellows of the +best blood of Britain, "banded together for purposes of mutual +improvement and social enjoyment," it had changed its character +during the years, but not its name. First, its membership was +extended to include "approved colonials," such as Jack Dale and +"others of kindred spirit," under which head, I suppose, the two +cowboys from the Ashley Ranch, Hi Keadal and "Bronco" Bill--no one +knew and no one asked his other name--were admitted. Then its +purposes gradually limited themselves to those of a social nature, +chiefly in the line of poker-playing and whisky-drinking. Well +born and delicately bred in that atmosphere of culture mingled with +a sturdy common sense and a certain high chivalry which surrounds +the stately homes of Britain, these young lads, freed from the +restraints of custom and surrounding, soon shed all that was +superficial in their make-up and stood forth in the naked +simplicity of their native manhood. The West discovered and +revealed the man in them, sometimes to their honor, often to their +shame. The Chief of the Company was the Hon. Fred Ashley, of the +Ashley Ranch, sometime of Ashley Court, England--a big, good- +natured man with a magnificent physique, a good income from home, +and a beautiful wife, the Lady Charlotte, daughter of a noble +English family. At the Ashley Ranch the traditions of Ashley Court +were preserved as far as possible. The Hon. Fred appeared at the +wolf-hunts in riding-breeches and top boots, with hunting crop and +English saddle, while in all the appointments of the house the +customs of the English home were observed. It was characteristic, +however, of western life that his two cowboys, Hi Kendal and Bronco +Bill, felt themselves quite his social equals, though in the +presence of his beautiful, stately wife they confessed that they +"rather weakened." Ashley was a thoroughly good fellow, well up to +his work as a cattle-man, and too much of a gentleman to feel, much +less assert, any superiority of station. He had the largest ranch +in the country and was one of the few men making money. + +Ashley's chief friend, or, at least, most frequent companion, was a +man whom they called "The Duke." No one knew his name, but every +one said he was "the son of a lord," and certainly from his style +and bearing he might be the son of almost anything that was high +enough in rank. He drew "a remittance," but, as that was paid +through Ashley, no one knew whence it came nor how much it was. He +was a perfect picture of a man, and in all western virtues was +easily first. He could rope a steer, bunch cattle, play poker or +drink whisky to the admiration of his friends and the confusion of +his foes, of whom he had a few; while as to "bronco busting," the +virtue par excellence of western cattle-men, even Bronco Bill was +heard to acknowledge that "he wasn't in it with the Dook, for it +was his opinion that he could ride anythin' that had legs in under +it, even if it was a blanked centipede." And this, coming from one +who made a profession of "bronco busting," was unquestionably high +praise. The Duke lived alone, except when he deigned to pay a +visit to some lonely rancher who, for the marvellous charm of his +talk, was delighted to have him as guest, even at the expense of +the loss of a few games at poker. He made a friend of no one, +though some men could tell of times when he stood between them and +their last dollar, exacting only the promise that no mention should +be made of his deed. He had an easy, lazy manner and a slow +cynical smile that rarely left his face, and the only sign of +deepening passion in him was a little broadening of his smile. Old +Latour, who kept the Stopping Place, told me how once The Duke had +broken into a gentle laugh. A French half-breed freighter on his +way north had entered into a game of poker with The Duke, with the +result that his six months' pay stood in a little heap at his +enemy's left hand. The enraged freighter accused his smiling +opponent of being a cheat, and was proceeding to demolish him with +one mighty blow. But The Duke, still smiling, and without moving +from his chair, caught the descending fist, slowly crushed the +fingers open, and steadily drew the Frenchman to his knees, +gripping him so cruelly in the meantime that he was forced to cry +aloud in agony for mercy. Then it was that The Duke broke into a +light laugh and, touching the kneeling Frenchman on his cheek with +his finger-tips, said: "Look here, my man, you shouldn't play the +game till you know how to do it and with whom you play." Then, +handing him back the money, he added: "I want money, but not +yours." Then, as he sat looking at the unfortunate wretch dividing +his attention between his money and his bleeding fingers, he once +more broke into a gentle laugh that was not good to hear. + +The Duke was by all odds the most striking figure in the Company of +the Noble Seven, and his word went farther than that of any other. +His shadow was Bruce, an Edinburgh University man, metaphysical, +argumentative, persistent, devoted to The Duke. Indeed, his chief +ambition was to attain to The Duke's high and lordly manner; but, +inasmuch as he was rather squat in figure and had an open, good- +natured face and a Scotch voice of the hard and rasping kind, his +attempts at imitation were not conspicuously successful. Every +mail that reached Swan Creek brought him a letter from home. At +first, after I had got to know him, he would give me now and then a +letter to read, but as the tone became more and more anxious he +ceased to let me read them, and I was glad enough of this. How he +could read those letters and go the pace of the Noble Seven I could +not see. Poor Bruce! He had good impulses, a generous heart, but +the "Permit" nights and the hunts and the "roundups" and the poker +and all the wild excesses of the Company were more than he could +stand. + +Then there were the two Hill brothers, the younger, Bertie, a fair- +haired, bright-faced youngster, none too able to look after +himself, but much inclined to follies of all degrees and sorts. +But he was warm-hearted and devoted to his big brother, Humphrey, +called "Hump," who had taken to ranching mainly with the idea of +looking after his younger brother. And no easy matter that was, +for every one liked the lad and in consequence helped him down. + +In addition to these there were two others of the original seven, +but by force of circumstances they were prevented from any more +than a nominal connection with the Company. Blake, a typical wild +Irishman, had joined the police at the Fort, and Gifford had got +married and, as Bill said, "was roped tighter'n a steer." + +The Noble Company, with the cowboys that helped on the range and +two or three farmers that lived nearer the Fort, composed the +settlers of the Swan Creek country. A strange medley of people of +all ranks and nations, but while among them there were the evil- +hearted and evil-living, still, for the Noble Company I will say +that never have I fallen in with men braver, truer, or of warmer +heart. Vices they had, all too apparent and deadly, but they were +due rather to the circumstances of their lives than to the native +tendencies of their hearts. Throughout that summer and the winter +following I lived among them, camping on the range with them and +sleeping in their shacks, bunching cattle in summer and hunting +wolves in winter, nor did I, for I was no wiser than they, refuse +my part on "Permit" nights; but through all not a man of them ever +failed to be true to his standard of honor in the duties of +comradeship and brotherhood. + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE COMING OF THE PILOT + + +He was the first missionary ever seen in the country, and it was the +Old Timer who named him. The Old Timer's advent to the Foothill +country was prehistoric, and his influence was, in consequence, +immense. No one ventured to disagree with him, for to disagree with +the Old Timer was to write yourself down a tenderfoot, which no one, +of course, cared to do. It was a misfortune which only time could +repair to be a new-comer, and it was every new-comer's aim to assume +with all possible speed the style and customs of the aristocratic +Old Timers, and to forget as soon as possible the date of his own +arrival. So it was as "The Sky Pilot," familiarly "The Pilot," that +the missionary went for many a day in the Swan Creek country. + +I had become schoolmaster of Swan Creek. For in the spring a kind +Providence sent in the Muirs and the Bremans with housefuls of +children, to the ranchers' disgust, for they foresaw ploughed +fields and barbed-wire fences cramping their unlimited ranges. A +school became necessary. A little log building was erected and I +was appointed schoolmaster. It was as schoolmaster that I first +came to touch The Pilot, for the letter which the Hudson Bay +freighters brought me early one summer evening bore the inscription: + + + The Schoolmaster, + Public School, + Swan Creek, + Alberta. + + +There was altogether a fine air about the letter; the writing was +in fine, small hand, the tone was fine, and there was something +fine in the signature--"Arthur Wellington Moore." He was glad to +know that there was a school and a teacher in Swan Creek, for a +school meant children, in whom his soul delighted; and in the +teacher he would find a friend, and without a friend he could not +live. He took me into his confidence, telling me that though he +had volunteered for this far-away mission field he was not much of +a preacher and he was not at all sure that he would succeed. But +he meant to try, and he was charmed at the prospect of having one +sympathizer at least. Would I be kind enough to put up in some +conspicuous place the enclosed notice, filling in the blanks as I +thought best? + + + "Divine service will be held at Swan creek + in ---- ----- at ---- o'clock. + All are cordially invited. + Arthur Wellington Moore." + + +On the whole I liked his letter. I liked its modest self- +depreciation and I liked its cool assumption of my sympathy and co- +operation. But I was perplexed. I remembered that Sunday was the +day fixed for the great baseball match, when those from "Home," as +they fondly called the land across the sea from which they had +come, were to "wipe the earth" with all comers. Besides, "Divine +service" was an innovation in Swan Creek and I felt sure that, like +all innovations that suggested the approach of the East, it would +be by no means welcome. + +However, immediately under the notice of the "Grand Baseball Match +for 'The Pain Killer' a week from Sunday, at 2:30, Home vs. the +World," I pinned on the door of the Stopping Place the +announcement: + + +"Divine service will be held at Swan Creek, in the Stopping Place +Parlor, a week from Sunday, immediately upon the conclusion of the +baseball match. + "Arthur Wellington Moore." + + +There was a strange incongruity in the two, and an unconscious +challenge as well. + +All next day, which was Saturday, and, indeed, during the following +week, I stood guard over my notice, enjoying the excitement it +produced and the comments it called forth. It was the advance wave +of the great ocean of civilization which many of them had been glad +to leave behind--some could have wished forever. + +To Robert Muir, one of the farmers newly arrived, the notice was a +harbinger of good. It stood for progress, markets and a higher +price for land; albeit he wondered "hoo he wad be keepit up." But +his hard-wrought, quick-spoken little wife at his elbow "hooted" +his scruples and, thinking of her growing lads, welcomed with +unmixed satisfaction the coming of "the meenister." Her +satisfaction was shared by all the mothers and most of the fathers +in the settlement; but by the others, and especially by that +rollicking, roistering crew, the Company of the Noble Seven, the +missionary's coming was viewed with varying degrees of animosity. +It meant a limitation of freedom in their wildly reckless living. +The "Permit" nights would now, to say the least, be subject to +criticism; the Sunday wolf-hunts and horse-races, with their +attendant delights, would now be pursued under the eye of the +Church, and this would not add to the enjoyment of them. One great +charm of the country, which Bruce, himself the son of an Edinburgh +minister, and now Secretary of the Noble Seven, described as +"letting a fellow do as he blanked pleased," would be gone. None +resented more bitterly than he the missionary's intrusion, which he +declared to be an attempt "to reimpose upon their freedom the +trammels of an antiquated and bigoted conventionality." But the +rest of the Company, while not taking so decided a stand, were +agreed that the establishment of a church institution was an +objectionable and impertinent as well as unnecessary proceeding. + +Of course, Hi Kendal and his friend Bronco Bill had no opinion one +way or the other. The Church could hardly affect them even +remotely. A dozen years' stay in Montana had proved with +sufficient clearness to them that a church was a luxury of +civilization the West might well do without. + +Outside the Company of the Noble Seven there was only one whose +opinion had value in Swan Creek, and that was the Old Timer. The +Company had sought to bring him in by making him an honorary +member, but he refused to be drawn from his home far up among the +hills, where he lived with his little girl Gwen and her old half- +breed nurse, Ponka. The approach of the church he seemed to resent +as a personal injury. It represented to him that civilization from +which he had fled fifteen years ago with his wife and baby girl, +and when five years later he laid his wife in the lonely grave that +could be seen on the shaded knoll just fronting his cabin door, the +last link to his past was broken. From all that suggested the +great world beyond the run of the Prairie he shrank as one shrinks +from a sudden touch upon an old wound. + +"I guess I'll have to move back," he said to me gloomily. + +"Why?" I said in surprise, thinking of his grazing range, which was +ample for his herd. + +"This blank Sky Pilot." He never swore except when unusually +moved. + +"Sky Pilot?" I inquired. + +He nodded and silently pointed to the notice. + +"Oh, well, he won't hurt you, will he?" + +"Can't stand it," he answered savagely, "must get away." + +"What about Gwen?" I ventured, for she was the light of his eyes. +"Pity to stop her studies." I was giving her weekly lessons at the +old man's ranch. + +"Dunno. Ain't figgered out yet about that baby." She was still +his baby. "Guess she's all she wants for the Foothills, anyway. +What's the use?" he added, bitterly, talking to himself after the +manner of men who live much alone. + +I waited for a moment, then said: "Well, I wouldn't hurry about +doing anything," knowing well that the one thing an old-timer hates +to do is to make any change in his mode of life. "Maybe he won't +stay." + +He caught at this eagerly. "That's so! There ain't much to keep +him, anyway," and he rode off to his lonely ranch far up in the +hills. + +I looked after the swaying figure and tried to picture his past +with its tragedy; then I found myself wondering how he would end +and what would come to his little girl. And I made up my mind that +if the missionary were the right sort his coming might not be a bad +thing for the Old Timer and perhaps for more than him. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PILOT'S MEASURE + + +It was Hi Kendal that announced the arrival of the missionary. I +was standing at the door of my school, watching the children ride +off home on their ponies, when Hi came loping along on his bronco +in the loose-jointed cowboy style. + +"Well," he drawled out, bringing his bronco to a dead stop in a +single bound, "he's lit." + +"Lit? Where? What?" said I, looking round for an eagle or some +other flying thing. + +"Your blanked Sky Pilot, and he's a beauty, a pretty kid--looks too +tender for this climate. Better not let him out on the range." Hi +was quite disgusted, evidently. + +"What's the matter with him, Hi?" + +"Why, HE ain't no parson! I don't go much on parsons, but when I +calls for one I don't want no bantam chicken. No, sirree, horse! +I don't want no blankety-blank, pink-and-white complected nursery +kid foolin' round my graveyard. If you're goin' to bring along a +parson, why bring him with his eye-teeth cut and his tail feathers +on." + +That Hi was deeply disappointed was quite clear from the selection +of the profanity with which he adorned this lengthy address. It +was never the extent of his profanity, but the choice, that +indicated Hi's interest in any subject. + +Altogether, the outlook for the missionary was not encouraging. +With the single exception of the Muirs, who really counted for +little, nobody wanted him. To most of the reckless young bloods of +the Company of the Noble Seven his presence was an offence; to +others simply a nuisance, while the Old Timer regarded his advent +with something like dismay; and now Hi's impression of his personal +appearance was not cheering. + +My first sight of him did not reassure me. He was very slight, +very young, very innocent, with a face that might do for an angel, +except for the touch of humor in it, but which seemed strangely out +of place among the rough, hard faces that were to be seen in the +Swan Creek Country. It was not a weak face, however. The forehead +was high and square, the mouth firm, and the eyes were luminous, of +some dark color--violet, if there is such a color in eyes--dreamy +or sparkling, according to his mood; eyes for which a woman might +find use, but which, in a missionary's head, appeared to me one of +those extraordinary wastes of which Nature is sometimes guilty. + +He was gazing far away into space infinitely beyond the Foothills +and the blue line of the mountains behind them. He turned to me as +I drew near, with eyes alight and face glowing. + +"It is glorious," he almost panted. "You see this everyday!" +Then, recalling himself, he came eagerly toward me, stretching out +his hand. "You are the schoolmaster, I know. Do you know, it's a +great thing? I wanted to be one, but I never could get the boys +on. They always got me telling them tales. I was awfully +disappointed. I am trying the next best thing. You see, I won't +have to keep order, but I don't think I can preach very well. I am +going to visit your school. Have you many scholars? Do you know, +I think it's splendid? I wish I could do it." + +I had intended to be somewhat stiff with him, but his evident +admiration of me made me quite forget this laudable intention, and, +as he talked on without waiting for an answer, his enthusiasm, his +deference to my opinion, his charm of manner, his beautiful face, +his luminous eyes, made him perfectly irresistible; and before I +was aware I was listening to his plans for working his mission with +eager interest. So eager was my interest, indeed, that before I +was aware I found myself asking him to tea with me in my shack. +But he declined, saying: + +"I'd like to, awfully; but do you know, I think Latour expects me." + +This consideration of Latour's feelings almost upset me. + +"You come with me," he added, and I went. + +Latour welcomed us with his grim old face wreathed in unusual +smiles. The pilot had been talking to him, too. + +"I've got it, Latour!" he cried out as he entered; "here you are," +and he broke into the beautiful French-Canadian chanson, "A la +Claire Fontaine," to the old half-breed's almost tearful delight. + +"Do you know," he went on, "I heard that first down the Mattawa," +and away he went into a story of an experience with French-Canadian +raftsmen, mixing up his French and English in so charming a manner +that Latour; who in his younger days long ago had been a shantyman +himself, hardly knew whether he was standing on his head or on his +heels. + +After tea I proposed a ride out to see the sunset from the nearest +rising ground. Latour, with unexampled generosity, offered his own +cayuse, "Louis." + +"I can't ride well," protested The Pilot. + +"Ah! dat's good ponee, Louis," urged Latour. "He's quiet lak wan +leetle mouse; he's ride lak--what you call?--wan horse-on-de-rock." +Under which persuasion the pony was accepted. + +That evening I saw the Swan Creek country with new eyes--through +the luminous eyes of The Pilot. We rode up the trail by the side +of the Swan till we came to the coulee mouth, dark and full of +mystery. + +"Come on," I said, "we must get to the top for the sunset." + +He looked lingeringly into the deep shadows and asked: "Anything +live down there?" + +"Coyotes and wolves and ghosts." + +"Ghosts?" he asked, delightedly. "Do you know, I was sure there +were, and I'm quite sure I shall see them." + +Then we took the Porcupine trail and climbed for about two miles +the gentle slope to the top of the first rising ground. There we +stayed and watched the sun take his nightly plunge into the sea of +mountains, now dimly visible. Behind us stretched the prairie, +sweeping out level to the sky and cut by the winding coulee of the +Swan. Great long shadows from the hills were lying upon its yellow +face, and far at the distant edge the gray haze was deepening into +purple. Before us lay the hills, softly curving like the shoulders +of great sleeping monsters, their tops still bright, but the +separating valleys full of shadow. And there, far beyond them, up +against the sky, was the line of the mountains--blue, purple, and +gold, according as the light fell upon them. The sun had taken his +plunge, but he had left behind him his robes of saffron and gold. +We stood long without a word or movement, filling our hearts with +the silence and the beauty, till the gold in the west began to grow +dim. High above all the night was stretching her star-pierced, +blue canopy, and drawing slowly up from the east over the prairie +and over the sleeping hills the soft folds of a purple haze. The +great silence of the dying day had fallen upon the world and held +us fast. + +"Listen," he said, in a low tone, pointing to the hills. "Can't +you hear them breathe?" And, looking at their curving shoulders, I +fancied I could see them slowly heaving as if in heavy sleep, and I +was quite sure I could hear them breathe. I was under the spell of +his voice and his eyes, and nature was all living to me then. + +We rode back to the Stopping Place in silence, except for a word of +mine now and then which he heeded not; and, with hardly a good +night, he left me at the door. I turned away feeling as if I had +been in a strange country and among strange people. + +How would he do with the Swan Creek folk? Could he make them see +the hills breathe? Would they feel as I felt under his voice and +eyes? What a curious mixture he was! I was doubtful about his +first Sunday, and was surprised to find all my indifference as to +his success or failure gone. It was a pity about the baseball +match. I would speak to some of the men about it to-morrow. + +Hi might be disappointed in his appearance, but, as I turned into +my shack and thought over my last two hours with The Pilot and how +he had "got" old Latour and myself, I began to think that Hi might +be mistaken in his measure of The Pilot. + + + +CHAPTER V + +FIRST BLOOD + + +One is never so enthusiastic in the early morning, when the emotions +are calmest and the nerves at their steadiest. But I was determined +to try to have the baseball match postponed. There could be no +difficulty. One day was as much of a holiday as another to these +easy-going fellows. But The Duke, when I suggested a change in the +day, simply raised his eyebrows an eighth of an inch and said: + +"Can't see why the day should be changed." Bruce stormed and swore +all sorts of destruction upon himself if he was going to change his +style of life for any man. The others followed The Duke's lead. + +That Sunday was a day of incongruities. The Old and the New, the +East and the West, the reverential Past and iconoclastic Present +were jumbling themselves together in bewildering confusion. The +baseball match was played with much vigor and profanity. The +expression on The Pilot's face, as he stood watching for a while, +was a curious mixture of interest, surprise, doubt and pain. He +was readjusting himself. He was so made as to be extremely +sensitive to his surroundings. He took on color quickly. The +utter indifference to the audacious disregard of all he had +hitherto considered sacred and essential was disconcerting. They +were all so dead sure. How did he know they were wrong? It was +his first near view of practical, living skepticism. Skepticism in +a book did not disturb him; he could put down words against it. +But here it was alive, cheerful, attractive, indeed fascinating; +for these men in their western garb and with their western swing +had captured his imagination. He was in a fierce struggle, and in +a few minutes I saw him disappear into the coulee. + +Meantime the match went uproariously on to a finish, with the +result that the champions of "Home" had "to stand The Painkiller," +their defeat being due chiefly to the work of Hi and Bronco Bill as +pitcher and catcher. + +The celebration was in full swing; or as Hi put it, "the boys were +takin' their pizen good an' calm," when in walked The Pilot. His +face was still troubled and his lips were drawn and blue, as if he +were in pain. A silence fell on the men as he walked in through +the crowd and up to the bar. He stood a moment hesitating, looking +round upon the faces flushed and hot that were now turned toward +him in curious defiance. He noticed the look, and it pulled him +together. He faced about toward old Latour and asked in a high, +clear voice: + +"Is this the room you said we might have?" + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and said: + +"There is not any more." + +The lad paused for an instant, but only for an instant. Then, +lifting a pile of hymn books he had near him on the counter, he +said in a grave, sweet voice, and with the quiver of a smile about +his lips: + +"Gentlemen, Mr. Latour has allowed me this room for a religious +service. It will give me great pleasure if you will all join," and +immediately he handed a book to Bronco Bill, who, surprised, took +it as if he did not know what to do with it. The others followed +Bronco's lead till he came to Bruce, who refused, saying roughly: + +"No! I don't want it; I've no use for it." + +The missionary flushed and drew back as if he had been struck, but +immediately, as if unconsciously, The Duke, who was standing near, +stretched out his hand and said, with a courteous bow, "I thank +you; I should be glad of one." + +"Thank you," replied The Pilot, simply, as he handed him a book. +The men seated themselves upon the bench that ran round the room, +or leaned up against the counter, and most of them took off their +hats. Just then in came Muir, and behind him his little wife. + +In an instant The Duke was on his feet, and every hat came off. + +The missionary stood up at the bar, and announced the hymn, "Jesus, +Lover of My Soul." The silence that followed was broken by the +sound of a horse galloping. A buckskin bronco shot past the +window, and in a few moments there appeared at the door the Old +Timer. He was about to stride in when the unusual sight of a row +of men sitting solemnly with hymn books in their hands held him +fast at the door. He gazed in an amazed, helpless way upon the +men, then at the missionary, then back at the men, and stood +speechless. Suddenly there was a high, shrill, boyish laugh, and +the men turned to see the missionary in a fit of laughter. It +certainly was a shock to any lingering ideas of religious propriety +they might have about them; but the contrast between his frank, +laughing face and the amazed and disgusted face of the shaggy old +man in the doorway was too much for them, and one by one they gave +way to roars of laughter. The Old Timer, however, kept his face +unmoved, strode up to the bar and nodded to old Latour, who served +him his drink, which he took at a gulp. + +"Here, old man!" called out Bill, "get into the game; here's your +deck," offering him his book. But the missionary was before him, +and, with very beautiful grace, he handed the Old Timer a book and +pointed him to a seat. + +I shall never forget that service. As a religious affair it was a +dead failure, but somehow I think The Pilot, as Hi approvingly +said, "got in his funny work," and it was not wholly a defeat. The +first hymn was sung chiefly by the missionary and Mrs. Muir, whose +voice was very high, with one or two of the men softly whistling an +accompaniment. The second hymn was better, and then came the +Lesson, the story of the feeding of the five thousand. As the +missionary finished the story, Bill, who had been listening with +great interest, said: + +"I say, pard, I think I'll call you just now." + +"I beg your pardon!" said the startled missionary. + +"You're givin' us quite a song and dance now, ain't you?" + +"I don't understand," was the puzzled reply. + +"How many men was there in the crowd?" asked Bill, with a judicial +air. + +"Five thousand." + +"And how much grub?" + +"Five loaves and two fishes," answered Bruce for the missionary. + +"Well," drawled Bill, with the air of a man who has reached a +conclusion, "that's a little too unusual for me. Why," looking +pityingly at the missionary, "it ain't natarel." + +"Right you are, my boy," said Bruce, with a laugh. "It's deucedly +unnatural." + +"Not for Him," said the missionary, quietly. Then Bruce joyfully +took him up and led him on into a discussion of evidences, and from +evidences into metaphysics, the origin of evil and the freedom of +the will, till the missionary, as Bill said, "was rattled worse nor +a rooster in the dark." Poor little Mrs. Muir was much scandalized +and looked anxiously at her husband, wishing him to take her out. +But help came from an unexpected quarter, and Hi suddenly called +out: + +"Here you, Bill, shut your blanked jaw, and you, Bruce, give the +man a chance to work off his music." + +"That's so! Fair play! Go on!" were the cries that came in +response to Hi's appeal. + +The missionary, who was all trembling and much troubled, gave Hi a +grateful look, and said: + +"I'm afraid there are a great many things I don't understand, and I +am not good at argument." There were shouts of "Go on! fire ahead, +play the game!" but he said, "I think we will close the service +with a hymn." His frankness and modesty, and his respectful, +courteous manner gained the sympathy of the men, so that all joined +heartily in singing, "Sun of My Soul." In the prayer that followed +his voice grew steady and his nerve came back to him. The words +were very simple, and the petitions were mostly for light and for +strength. With a few words of remembrance of "those in our homes +far away who think of us and pray for us and never forget," this +strange service was brought to a close. + +After the missionary had stepped out, the whole affair was +discussed with great warmth. Hi Kendal thought "The Pilot didn't +have no fair show," maintaining that when he was "ropin' a steer he +didn't want no blanked tenderfoot to be shovin' in his rope like +Bill there." But Bill steadily maintained his position that "the +story of that there picnic was a little too unusual" for him. +Bruce was trying meanwhile to beguile The Duke into a discussion of +the physics and metaphysics of the case. But The Duke refused with +quiet contempt to be drawn into a region where he felt himself a +stranger. He preferred poker himself, if Bruce cared to take a +hand; and so the evening went on, with the theological discussion +by Hi and Bill in a judicial, friendly spirit in one corner, while +the others for the most part played poker. + +When the missionary returned late there were only a few left in the +room, among them The Duke and Bruce, who was drinking steadily and +losing money. The missionary's presence seemed to irritate him, +and he played even more recklessly than usual, swearing deeply at +every loss. At the door the missionary stood looking up into the +night sky and humming softly "Sun of My Soul," and after a few +minutes The Duke joined in humming a bass to the air till Bruce +could contain himself no longer. + +"I say," he called out, "this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is +it?" + +The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly: +"Well, what is it? What's the trouble?" + +"Trouble!" shouted Bruce. "I don't see what hymn-singing has to do +with a poker game." + +"Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing?" said The Duke. Then +after a pause he added, "You're quite right. I say, Bruce, let's +quit. Something has got on to your nerves." And coolly sweeping +his pile into his pocket, he gave up the game. With an oath Bruce +left the table, took another drink, and went unsteadily out to his +horse, and soon we heard him ride away into the darkness, singing +snatches of the hymn and swearing the most awful oaths. + +The missionary's face was white with horror. It was all new and +horrible to him. + +"Will he get safely home?" he asked of The Duke. + +"Don't you worry, youngster," said The Duke, in his loftiest +manner, "he'll get along." + +The luminous, dreamy eyes grew hard and bright as they looked The +Duke in the face. + +"Yes, I shall worry; but you ought to worry more." + +"Ah!" said The Duke, raising his brows and smiling gently upon the +bright, stern young face lifted up to his. "I didn't notice that I +had asked your opinion." + +"If anything should happen to him," replied the missionary, quickly, +"I should consider you largely responsible." + +"That would be kind," said The Duke, still smiling with his lips. +But after a moment's steady look into the missionary's eyes he +nodded his head twice or thrice, and, without further word, turned +away. + +The missionary turned eagerly to me: + +"They beat me this afternoon," he cried, "but thank God, I know now +they are wrong and I am right! I don't understand! I can't see my +way through! But I am right! It's true! I feel it's true! Men +can't live without Him, and be men!" + +And long after I went to my shack that night I saw before me the +eager face with the luminous eyes and heard the triumphant cry: "I +feel it's true! Men can't live without Him, and be men!" and I +knew that though his first Sunday ended in defeat there was victory +yet awaiting him. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +HIS SECOND WIND + + +The first weeks were not pleasant for The Pilot. He had been +beaten, and the sense of failure damped his fine enthusiasm, which +was one of his chief charms. The Noble Seven despised, ignored, or +laughed at him, according to their mood and disposition. Bruce +patronized him; and, worst of all, the Muirs pitied him. This last +it was that brought him low, and I was glad of it. I find it hard +to put up with a man that enjoys pity. + +It was Hi Kendal that restored him, though Hi had no thought of +doing so good a deed. It was in this way: A baseball match was on +with The Porcupines from near the Fort. To Hi's disgust and the +team's dismay Bill failed to appear. It was Hi's delight to stand +up for Bill's pitching, and their battery was the glory of the Home +team. + +"Try The Pilot, Hi," said some one, chaffing him. + +Hi looked glumly across at The Pilot standing some distance, away; +then called out, holding up the ball: + +"Can you play the game?" + +For answer Moore held up his hands for a catch. Hi tossed him the +ball easily. The ball came back so quickly that Hi was hardly +ready, and the jar seemed to amaze him exceedingly. + +"I'll take him," he said, doubtfully, and the game began. Hi +fitted on his mask, a new importation and his peculiar pride, and +waited. + +"How do you like them?" asked The Pilot. + +"Hot!" said Hi. "I hain't got no gloves to burn." + +The Pilot turned his back, swung off one foot on to the other and +discharged his ball. + +"Strike!" called the umpire. + +"You bet!" said Hi, with emphasis, but his face was a picture of +amazement and dawning delight. + +Again The Pilot went through the manoeuvre in his box and again the +umpire called: + +"Strike!" + +Hi stopped the ball without holding it and set himself for the +third. Once more that disconcerting swing and the whip-like action +of the arm, and for the third time the umpire called: + +"Strike! Striker out!" + +"That's the hole," yelled Hi. + +The Porcupines were amazed. Hi looked at the ball in his hand, +then at the slight figure of The Pilot. + +"I say! where do you get it?" + +"What?" asked Moore innocently. + +"The gait!" + +"The what?" + +"The gait! the speed, you know!" + +"Oh! I used to play in Princeton a little." + +"Did, eh? What the blank blank did you quit for?" + +He evidently regarded the exchange of the profession of baseball +for the study of theology as a serious error in judgment, and in +this opinion every inning of the game confirmed him. At the bat +The Pilot did not shine, but he made up for light hitting by his +base-running. He was fleet as a deer, and he knew the game +thoroughly. He was keen, eager, intense in play, and before the +innings were half over he was recognized as the best all-round man +on the field. In the pitcher's box he puzzled the Porcupines till +they grew desperate and hit wildly and blindly, amid the jeers of +the spectators. The bewilderment of the Porcupines was equaled +only by the enthusiasm of Hi and his nine, and when the game was +over the score stood 37 to 7 in favor of the Home team. They +carried The Pilot off the field. + +From that day Moore was another man. He had won the unqualified +respect of Hi Kendal and most of the others, for he could beat them +at their own game and still be modest about it. Once more his +enthusiasm came back and his brightness and his courage. The Duke +was not present to witness his triumph, and, besides, he rather +despised the game. Bruce was there, however, but took no part in +the general acclaim; indeed, he seemed rather disgusted with +Moore's sudden leap into favor. Certainly his hostility to The +Pilot and to all that he stood for was none the less open and +bitter. + +The hostility was more than usually marked at the service held on +the Sunday following. It was, perhaps, thrown into stronger relief +by the open and delighted approval of Hi, who was prepared to back +up anything The Pilot would venture to say. Bill, who had not +witnessed The Pilot's performance in the pitcher's box, but had +only Hi's enthusiastic report to go upon, still preserved his +judicial air. It is fair to say, however, that there was no mean- +spirited jealousy in Bill's heart even though Hi had frankly +assured him that The Pilot was "a demon," and could "give him +points." Bill had great confidence in Hi's opinion upon baseball, +but he was not prepared to surrender his right of private judgment +in matters theological, so he waited for the sermon before +committing himself to any enthusiastic approval. This service was +an undoubted success. The singing was hearty, and insensibly the +men fell into a reverent attitude during prayer. The theme, too, +was one that gave little room for skepticism. It was the story of +Zaccheus, and story-telling was Moore's strong point. The thing +was well done. Vivid portraitures of the outcast, shrewd, +converted publican and the supercilious, self-complacent, critical +Pharisee were drawn with a few deft touches. A single sentence +transferred them to the Foothills and arrayed them in cowboy garb. +Bill was none too sure of himself, but Hi, with delightful winks, +was indicating Bruce as the Pharisee, to the latter's scornful +disgust. The preacher must have noticed, for with a very clever +turn the Pharisee was shown to be the kind of man who likes to fit +faults upon others. Then Bill, digging his elbows into Hi's ribs, +said in an audible whisper: + +"Say, pardner, how does it fit now?" + +"You git out!" answered Hi, indignantly, but his confidence in his +interpretation of the application was shaken. When Moore came to +describe the Master and His place in that ancient group, we in the +Stopping Place parlor fell under the spell of his eyes and voice, +and our hearts were moved within us. That great Personality was +made very real and very winning. Hi was quite subdued by the story +and the picture. Bill was perplexed; it was all new to him; but +Bruce was mainly irritated. To him it was all old and filled with +memories he hated to face. At any rate he was unusually savage +that evening, drank heavily and went home late, raging and cursing +at things in general and The Pilot in particular--for Moore, in a +timid sort of way, had tried to quiet him and help him to his +horse. + +"Ornery sort o' beast now, ain't he?" said Hi, with the idea of +comforting The Pilot, who stood sadly looking after Bruce +disappearing in the gloom. + +"No! no!" he answered, quickly, "not a beast, but a brother." + +"Brother! Not much, if I know my relations!" answered Hi, +disgustedly. + +"The Master thinks a good deal of him," was the earnest reply. + +"Git out!" said Hi, "you don't mean it! Why," he added, decidedly, +"he's more stuck on himself than that mean old cuss you was tellin' +about this afternoon, and without half the reason." + +But Moore only said, kindly, "Don't be hard on him, Hi," and turned +away, leaving Hi and Bill gravely discussing the question, with the +aid of several drinks of whisky. They were still discussing when, +an hour later, they, too, disappeared into the darkness that +swallowed up the trail to Ashley Ranch. That was the first of many +such services. The preaching was always of the simplest kind, +abstract questions being avoided and the concrete in those +wonderful Bible tales, dressed in modern and in western garb, set +forth. Bill and Hi were more than ever his friends and champions, +and the latter was heard exultantly to exclaim to Bruce: + +"He ain't much to look at as a parson, but he's a-ketchin' his +second wind, and 'fore long you won't see him for dust." + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LAST OF THE PERMIT SUNDAYS + + +The spring "round-ups" were all over and Bruce had nothing to do +but to loaf about the Stopping Place, drinking old Latour's bad +whisky and making himself a nuisance. In vain The Pilot tried to +win him with loans of books and magazines and other kindly +courtesies. He would be decent for a day and then would break +forth in violent argumentation against religion and all who held to +it. He sorely missed The Duke, who was away south on one of his +periodic journeys, of which no one knew anything or cared to ask. +The Duke's presence always steadied Bruce and took the rasp out of +his manners. It was rather a relief to all that he was absent from +the next fortnightly service, though Moore declared he was ashamed +to confess this relief. + +"I can't touch him," he said to me, after the service; "he is far +too clever, but," and his voice was full of pain, "I'd give +something to help him." + +"If he doesn't quit his nonsense," I replied, "he'll soon be past +helping. He doesn't go out on his range, his few cattle wander +everywhere, his shack is in a beastly state, and he himself is +going to pieces, miserable fool that he is." For it did seem a +shame that a fellow should so throw himself away for nothing. + +"You are hard," said Moore, with his eyes upon me. + +"Hard? Isn't it true?" I answered, hotly. "Then, there's his +mother at home." + +"Yes, but can he help it? Is it all his fault?" he replied, with +his steady eyes still looking into me. + +"His fault? Whose fault, then?" + +"What of the Noble Seven? Have they anything to do with this?" +His voice was quiet, but there was an arresting intensity in it. + +"Well," I said, rather weakly, "a man ought to look after himself." + +"Yes!--and his brother a little." Then, he added: "What have any +of you done to help him? The Duke could have pulled him up a year +ago if he had been willing to deny himself a little, and so with +all of you. You all do just what pleases you regardless of any +other, and so you help one another down." + +I could not find anything just then to say, though afterwards many +things came to me; for, though his voice was quiet and low, his +eyes were glowing and his face was alight with the fire that burned +within, and I felt like one convicted of a crime. This was +certainly a new doctrine for the West; an uncomfortable doctrine to +practice, interfering seriously with personal liberty, but in The +Pilot's way of viewing things difficult to escape. There would be +no end to one's responsibility. I refused to think it out. + +Within a fortnight we were thinking it out with some intentness. +The Noble Seven were to have a great "blow-out" at the Hill +brothers' ranch. The Duke had got home from his southern trip a +little more weary-looking and a little more cynical in his smile. +The "blow-out" was to be held on Permit Sunday, the alternate to +the Preaching Sunday, which was a concession to The Pilot, secured +chiefly through the influence of Hi and his baseball nine. It was +something to have created the situation involved in the distinction +between Preaching and Permit Sundays. Hi put it rather graphically. +"The devil takes his innin's one Sunday and The Pilot the next," +adding emphatically, "He hain't done much scorin' yit, but my +money's on The Pilot, you bet!" Bill was more cautious and +preferred to wait developments. And developments were rapid. + +The Hill brothers' meet was unusually successful from a social +point of view. Several Permits had been requisitioned, and whisky +and beer abounded. Races all day and poker all night and drinks +of various brews both day and night, with varying impromptu +diversions--such as shooting the horns off wandering steers--were +the social amenities indulged in by the noble company. On Monday +evening I rode out to the ranch, urged by Moore, who was anxious +that someone should look after Bruce. + +"I don't belong to them," he said, "you do. They won't resent your +coming." + +Nor did they. They were sitting at tea, and welcomed me with a +shout. + +"Hello, old domine!" yelled Bruce, "where's your preacher friend?" + +"Where you ought to be, if you could get there--at home," I +replied, nettled at his insolent tone. + +"Strike one!" called out Hi, enthusiastically, not approving +Bruce's attitude toward his friend, The Pilot. + +"Don't be so acute," said Bruce, after the laugh had passed, "but +have a drink." + +He was flushed and very shaky and very noisy. The Duke, at the +head of the table, looked a little harder than usual, but, though +pale, was quite steady. The others were all more or less nerve- +broken, and about the room were the signs of a wild night. A bench +was upset, while broken bottles and crockery lay strewn about over +a floor reeking with filth. The disgust on my face called forth an +apology from the younger Hill, who was serving up ham and eggs as +best he could to the men lounging about the table. + +"It's my housemaid's afternoon out," he explained gravely. + +"Gone for a walk in the park," added an other. + +"Hope MISTER Connor will pardon the absence," sneered Bruce, in his +most offensive manner. + +"Don't mind him," said Hi, under his breath, "the blue devils are +runnin' him down." + +This became more evident as the evening went on. From hilarity +Bruce passed to sullen ferocity, with spasms of nervous terror. +Hi's attempts to soothe him finally drove him mad, and he drew his +revolver, declaring he could look after himself, in proof of which +he began to shoot out the lights. + +The men scrambled into safe corners, all but The Duke, who stood +quietly by watching Bruce shoot. Then saying: + +"Let me have a try, Bruce," he reached across and caught his hand. + +"No! you don't," said Bruce, struggling. "No man gets my gun." + +He tore madly at the gripping hand with both of his, but in vain, +calling out with frightful oaths: + +"Let go! let go! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" + +With a furious effort he hurled himself back from the table, +dragging The Duke partly across. There was a flash and a report +and Bruce collapsed, The Duke still gripping him. When they lifted +him up he was found to have an ugly wound in his arm, the bullet +having passed through the fleshy part. I bound it up as best I +could and tried to persuade him to go to bed. But he would go +home. Nothing could stop him. Finally The Duke agreed to go with +him, and off they set, Bruce loudly protesting that he could get +home alone and did not want anyone. + +It was a dismal break-up to the meet, and we all went home feeling +rather sick, so that it gave me no pleasure to find Moore waiting +in my shack for my report of Bruce. It was quite vain for me to +make light of the accident to him. His eyes were wide open with +anxious fear when I had done. + +"You needn't tell me not to be anxious," he said, "you are anxious +yourself. I see it, I feel it." + +"Well, there's no use trying to keep things from you," I replied, +"but I am only a little anxious. Don't you go beyond me and work +yourself up into a fever over it." + +"No," he answered quietly, "but I wish his mother were nearer." + +"Oh, bosh, it isn't coming to that; but I wish he were in better +shape. He is broken up badly without this hole in him." + +He would not leave till I had promised to take him up the next day, +though I was doubtful enough of his reception. But next day The +Duke came down, his black bronco, Jingo, wet with hard riding. + +"Better come up, Connor," he said, gravely, "and bring your +bromides along. He has had a bad night and morning and fell asleep +only before I came away. I expect he'll wake in delirium. It's +the whisky more than the bullet. Snakes, you know." + +In ten minutes we three were on the trail, for Moore, though not +invited, quietly announced his intention to go with us. + +"Oh, all right," said The Duke, indifferently, "he probably won't +recognize you any way." + +We rode hard for half an hour till we came within sight of Bruce's +shack, which was set back into a little poplar bluff. + +"Hold up!" said The Duke. "Was that a shot?" We stood listening. +A rifle-shot rang out, and we rode hard. Again The Duke halted us, +and there came from the shack the sound of singing. It was an old +Scotch tune. + +"The twenty-third Psalm," said Moore, in a low voice. + +We rode into the bluff, tied up our horses and crept to the back of +the shack. Looking through a crack between the logs, I saw a +gruesome thing. Bruce was sitting up in bed with a Winchester +rifle across his knees and a belt of cartridges hanging over the +post. His bandages were torn off, the blood from his wound was +smeared over his bare arms and his pale, ghastly face; his eyes +were wild with mad terror, and he was shouting at the top of his +voice the words: + + "The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want, + He makes me down to lie + In pastures green, He leadeth me + The quiet waters by." + +Now and then he would stop to say in an awesome whisper, "Come out +here, you little devils!" and bang would go his rifle at the +stovepipe, which was riddled with holes. Then once more in a loud +voice he would hurry to begin the Psalm, + + "The Lord's my Shepherd." + +Nothing that my memory brings to me makes me chill like that +picture--the low log shack, now in cheerless disorder; the ghastly +object upon the bed in the corner, with blood-smeared face and arms +and mad terror in the eyes; the awful cursings and more awful +psalm-singing, punctuated by the quick report of the deadly rifle. + +For some moments we stood gazing at one another; then The Duke +said, in a low, fierce tone, more to himself than to us: + +"This is the last. There'll be no more of this cursed folly among +the boys." + +And I thought it a wise thing in The Pilot that he answered not a +word. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE PILOT'S GRIP + + +The situation was one of extreme danger--a madman with a Winchester +rifle. Something must be done and quickly. But what? It would be +death to anyone appearing at the door. + +"I'll speak; you keep your eyes on him," said The Duke. + +"Hello, Bruce! What's the row?" shouted The Duke. + +Instantly the singing stopped. A look of cunning delight came over +his face as, without a word, he got his rifle ready pointed at the +door. + +"Come in!" he yelled, after waiting for some moments. "Come in! +You're the biggest of all the devils. Come on, I'll send you down +where you belong. Come, what's keeping you?" + +Over the rifle-barrel his eyes gleamed with frenzied delight. We +consulted as to a plan. + +"I don't relish a bullet much," I said. + +"There are pleasanter things," responded The Duke, "and he is a +fairly good shot." + +Meantime the singing had started again, and, looking through the +chink, I saw that Bruce had got his eye on the stovepipe again. +While I was looking The Pilot slipped away from us toward the door. + +"Come back!" said the Duke, "don't be a fool! Come back, he'll +shoot you dead!" + +Moore paid no heed to him, but stood waiting at the door. In a few +moments Bruce blazed away again at the stovepipe. Immediately the +Pilot burst in, calling out eagerly: + +"Did you get him?" + +"No!" said Bruce, disappointedly, "he dodged like the devil, as of +course he ought, you know." + +"I'll get him," said Moore. "Smoke him out," proceeding to open +the stove door. + +"Stop!" screamed Bruce, "don't open that door! It's full, I tell +you." Moore paused. "Besides," went on Bruce, "smoke won't touch +'em." + +"Oh, that's all right," said Moore, coolly and with admirable +quickness, "wood smoke, you know--they can't stand that." + +This was apparently a new idea in demonology for Bruce, for he sank +back, while Moore lighted the fire and put on the tea-kettle. He +looked round for the tea-caddy. + +"Up there," said Bruce, forgetting for the moment his devils, and +pointing to a quaint, old-fashioned tea-caddy upon the shelf. + +Moore took it down, turned it in his hands and looked at Bruce. + +"Old country, eh?" + +"My mother's," said Bruce, soberly. + +"I could have sworn it was my aunt's in Balleymena," said Moore. +"My aunt lived in a little stone cottage with roses all over the +front of it." And on he went into an enthusiastic description of +his early home. His voice was full of music, soft and soothing, +and poor Bruce sank back and listened, the glitter fading from his +eyes. + +The Duke and I looked at each other. + +"Not too bad, eh?" said The Duke, after a few moments' silence. + +"Let's put up the horses," I suggested. "They won't want us for +half an hour." + +When we came in, the room had been set in order, the tea-kettle was +singing, the bedclothes straightened out, and Moore had just +finished washing the blood stains from Bruce's arms and neck. + +"Just in time," he said. "I didn't like to tackle these," pointing +to the bandages. + +All night long Moore soothed and tended the sick man, now singing +softly to him, and again beguiling him with tales that meant +nothing, but that had a strange power to quiet the nervous +restlessness, due partly to the pain of the wounded arm and partly +to the nerve-wrecking from his months of dissipation. The Duke +seemed uncomfortable enough. He spoke to Bruce once or twice, but +the only answer was a groan or curse with an increase of +restlessness. + +"He'll have a close squeak," said The Duke. The carelessness of +the tone was a little overdone, but The Pilot was stirred up by it. + +"He has not been fortunate in his friends," he said, looking +straight into his eyes. + +"A man ought to know himself when the pace is too swift," said The +Duke, a little more quickly than was his wont. + +"You might have done anything with him. Why didn't you help him?" +Moore's tones were stern and very steady, and he never moved his +eyes from the other man's face, but the only reply he got was a +shrug of the shoulders. + +When the gray of the morning was coming in at the window The Duke +rose up, gave himself, a little shake, and said: + +"I am not of any service here. I shall come back in the evening." + +He went and stood for a few moments looking down upon the hot, +fevered face; then, turning to me, he asked: + +"What do you think?" + +"Can't say! The bromide is holding him down just now. His blood +is bad for that wound." + +"Can I get anything?" I knew him well enough to recognize the +anxiety under his indifferent manner. + +"The Fort doctor ought to be got." + +He nodded and went out. + +"Have breakfast?" called out Moore from the door. + +"I shall get some at the Fort, thanks. They won't take any hurt +from me there," he said, smiling his cynical smile. + +Moore opened his eyes in surprise. + +"What's that for?" he asked me. + +"Well, he is rather cut up, and you rather rubbed it into him, you +know," I said, for I thought Moore a little hard. + +"Did I say anything untrue?" + +"Well, not untrue, perhaps; but truth is like medicine--not always +good to take." At which Moore was silent till his patient needed +him again. + +It was a weary day. The intense pain from the wound, and the high +fever from the poison in his blood kept the poor fellow in delirium +till evening, when The Duke rode up with the Fort doctor. Jingo +appeared as nearly played out as a horse of his spirit ever allowed +himself to become. + +"Seventy miles," said The Duke, swinging himself off the saddle. +"The doctor was ten miles out. How is he?" + +I shook my head, and he led away his horse to give him a rub and a +feed. + +Meantime the doctor, who was of the army and had seen service, was +examining his patient. He grew more and more puzzled as he noted +the various symptoms. Finally he broke out: + +"What have you been doing to him? Why is he in this condition? +This fleabite doesn't account for all," pointing to the wound. + +We stood like children reproved. Then The Duke said, hesitatingly: + +"I fear, doctor, the life has been a little too hard for him. He +had a severe nervous attack--seeing things, you know." + +"Yes, I know," stormed the old doctor. "I know you well enough, +with your head of cast-iron and no nerves to speak of. I know the +crowd and how you lead them. Infernal fools! You'll get your turn +some day. I've warned you before." + +The Duke was standing up before the doctor during this storm, +smiling slightly. All at once the smile faded out and he pointed +to the bed. Bruce was sitting up quiet and steady. He stretched +out his hand to The Duke. + +"Don't mind the old fool," he said, holding The Duke's hand and +looking up at him as fondly as if he were a girl. "It's my own +funeral--funeral?" he paused--"Perhaps it may be--who knows?--feel +queer enough--but remember, Duke--it's my own fault--don't listen +to those bally fools," looking towards Moore and the doctor. "My +own fault"--his voice died down--"my own fault." + +The Duke bent over him and laid him back on the pillow, saying, +"Thanks, old chap, you're good stuff. I'll not forget. Just keep +quiet and you'll be all right." He passed his cool, firm hand over +the hot brow of the man looking up at him with love in his eyes, +and in a few moments Bruce fell asleep. Then The Duke lifted +himself up, and facing the doctor, said in his coolest tone: + +"Your words are more true than opportune, doctor. Your patient +will need all your attention. As for my morals, Mr. Moore kindly +entrusts himself with the care of them." This with a bow toward +The Pilot. + +"I wish him joy of his charge," snorted the doctor, turning again +to the bed, where Bruce had already passed into delirium. + +The memory of that vigil was like a horrible nightmare for months. +Moore lay on the floor and slept. The Duke rode off somewhither. +The old doctor and I kept watch. All night poor Bruce raved in the +wildest delirium, singing, now psalms, now songs, swearing at the +cattle or his poker partners, and now and then, in quieter moments, +he was back in his old home, a boy, with a boy's friends and +sports. Nothing could check the fever. It baffled the doctor, who +often, during the night, declared that there was "no sense in a +wound like that working up such a fever," adding curses upon the +folly of The Duke and his Company. + +"You don't think he will not get better, doctor?" I asked, in +answer to one of his outbreaks. + +"He ought to get over this," he answered, impatiently, "but I +believe," he added, deliberately, "he'll have to go." + +Everything stood still for a moment. It seemed impossible. Two +days ago full of life, now on the way out. There crowded in upon +me thoughts of his home; his mother, whose letters he used to show +me full of anxious love; his wild life here, with all its generous +impulses, its mistakes, its folly. + +"How long will he last?" I asked, and my lips were dry and numb. + +"Perhaps twenty-four hours, perhaps longer. He can't throw off the +poison." + +The old doctor proved a true prophet. After another day of +agonized delirium he sank into a stupor which lasted through the +night. + +Then the change came. As the light began to grow at the eastern +rim of the prairie and up the far mountains in the west, Bruce +opened his eyes and looked about upon us. The doctor had gone; The +Duke had not come back; Moore and I were alone. He gazed at us +steadily for some moments; read our faces; a look of wonder came +into his eyes. + +"Is it coming?" he asked in a faint, awed voice. "Do you really +think I must go?" + +The eager appeal in his voice and the wistful longing in the wide- +open, startled eyes were too much for Moore. He backed behind me +and I could hear him weeping like a baby. Bruce heard him, too. + +"Is that The Pilot?" he asked. Instantly Moore pulled himself up, +wiped his eyes and came round to the other side of the bed and +looked down, smiling. + +"Do YOU say I am dying?" The voice was strained in its earnestness. +I felt a thrill of admiration go through me as the Pilot answered in +a sweet, clear voice: "They say so, Bruce. But you are not afraid?" + +Bruce kept his eyes on his face and answered with grave hesitation: + +"No--not--afraid--but I'd like to live a little longer. I've made +such a mess of it, I'd like to try again." Then he paused, and his +lips quivered a little. "There's my mother, you know," he added, +apologetically, "and Jim." Jim was his younger brother and sworn +chum. + +"Yes, I know, Bruce, but it won't be very long for them, too, and +it's a good place." + +"Yes, I believe it all--always did--talked rot--you'll forgive me +that?" + +"Don't; don't," said Moore quickly, with sharp pain in his voice, +and Bruce smiled a little and closed his eyes, saying: "I'm tired." +But he immediately opened them again and looked up. + +"What is it?" asked Moore, smiling down into his eyes. + +"The Duke," the poor lips whispered. + +"He is coming," said Moore, confidently, though how he knew I could +not tell. But even as he spoke, looking out of the window, I saw +Jingo come swinging round the bluff. Bruce heard the beat of his +hoofs, smiled, opened his eyes and waited. The leap of joy in his +eyes as The Duke came in, clean, cool and fresh as the morning, +went to my heart. + +Neither man said a word, but Bruce took hold of The Duke's hand in +both of his. He was fast growing weaker. I gave him brandy, and +he recovered a little strength. + +"I am dying, Duke," he said, quietly. "Promise you won't blame +yourself." + +"I can't, old man," said The Duke, with a shudder. "Would to +heaven I could." + +"You were too strong for me, and you didn't think, did you?" and +the weak voice had a caress in it. + +"No, no! God knows," said The Duke, hurriedly. + +There was a long silence, and again Bruce opened his eyes and +whispered: + +"The Pilot." + +Moore came to him. + +"Read 'The Prodigal,'" he said faintly, and in Moore's clear, sweet +voice the music of that matchless story fell upon our ears. + +Again Bruce's eyes summoned me. I bent over him. + +"My letter," he said, faintly, "in my coat--" + +I brought to him the last letter from his mother. He held the +envelope before his eyes, then handed it to me, whispering: + +"Read." + +I opened the letter and looked at the words, "My darling Davie." +My tongue stuck and not a sound could I make. Moore put out his +hand and took it from me. The Duke rose to go out, calling me with +his eyes, but Bruce motioned him to stay, and he sat down and bowed +his head, while Moore read the letter. + +His tones were clear and steady till he came to the last words, +when his voice broke and ended in a sob: + +"And oh, Davie, laddie, if ever your heart turns home again, +remember the door is aye open, and it's joy you'll bring with you +to us all." + +Bruce lay quite still, and, from his closed eyes, big tears ran +down his cheeks. It was his last farewell to her whose love had +been to him the anchor to all things pure here and to heaven +beyond. + +He took the letter from Moore's hand, put it with difficulty to his +lips, and then, touching the open Bible, he said, between his +breaths: + +"It's--very like--there's really--no fear, is there?" + +"No, no!" said Moore, with cheerful, confident voice, though his, +tears were flowing. "No fear of your welcome." + +His eyes met mine. I bent over him. "Tell her--" and his voice +faded away. + +"What shall I tell her?" I asked, trying to recall him. But the +message was never given. He moved one hand slowly toward The Duke +till it touched his head. The Duke lifted his face and looked down +at him, and then he did a beautiful thing for which I forgave him +much. He stooped over and kissed the lips grown so white, and then +the brow. The light came back into the eyes of the dying man, he +smiled once more, and smilingly faced toward the Great Beyond. And +the morning air, fresh from the sun-tipped mountains and sweet with +the scent of the June roses, came blowing soft and cool through the +open window upon the dead, smiling face. And it seemed fitting so. +It came from the land of the Morning. + +Again The Duke did a beautiful thing; for, reaching across his dead +friend, he offered his hand to The Pilot. "Mr. Moore," he said, +with fine courtesy, "you are a brave man and a good man; I ask your +forgiveness for much rudeness." + +But Moore only shook his head while he took the outstretched hand, +and said, brokenly: + +"Don't! I can't stand it." + +"The Company of the Noble Seven will meet no more," said The Duke, +with a faint smile. + +They did meet, however; but when they did, The Pilot was in the +chair, and it was not for poker. + +The Pilot had "got his grip," as Bill said. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GWEN + + +It was not many days after my arrival in the Foothill country that +I began to hear of Gwen. They all had stories of her. The details +were not many, but the impression was vivid. She lived remote from +that centre of civilization known as Swan Creek in the postal +guide, but locally as Old Latour's, far up among the hills near the +Devil's Lake, and from her father's ranch she never ventured. But +some of the men had had glimpses of her and had come to definite +opinions regarding her. + +"What is she like?" I asked Bill one day, trying to pin him down to +something like a descriptive account of her. + +"Like! She's a terrer," he said, with slow emphasis, "a holy +terrer." + +"But what is she like? What does she look like?" I asked +impatiently. + +"Look like?" He considered a moment, looked slowly round as if +searching for a simile, then answered: "I dunno." + +"Don't know? What do you mean? Haven't you seen her?" + +"Yeh! But she ain't like nothin'." + +Bill was quite decided upon this point. + +I tried again. + +"Well, what sort of hair has she got? She's got hair, I suppose?" + +"Hayer! Well, a few!" said Bill, with some choice combinations of +profanity in repudiation of my suggestion. "Yards of it! Red!" + +"Git out!" contradicted Hi. "Red! Tain't no more red than mine!" + +Bill regarded Hi's hair critically. + +"What color do you put onto your old brush?" he asked cautiously. + +"'Tain't no difference. 'Tain't red, anyhow." + +"Red! Well, not quite exactly," and Bill went off into a low, +long, choking chuckle, ejaculating now and then, "Red! Jee-mi-ny +Ann! Red!" + +"No, Hi," he went on, recovering himself with the same abruptness +as he used with his bronco, and looking at his friend with a face +even more than usually solemn, "your hayer ain't red, Hi; don't let +any of your relatives persuade you to that. 'Tain't red!" and he +threatened to go off again, but pulled himself up with dangerous +suddenness. "It may be blue, cerulyum blue or even purple, but +red--!" He paused violently, looking at his friend as if he found +him a new and interesting object of study upon which he could not +trust himself to speak. Nor could he be induced to proceed with +the description he had begun. + +But Hi, paying no attention to Bill's oration, took up the subject +with enthusiasm. + +"She kin ride--she's a reg'lar buster to ride, ain't she, Bill?" +Bill nodded. "She kin bunch cattle an' cut out an' yank a steer up +to any cowboy on the range." + +"Why, how big is she?" + +"Big? Why, she's just a kid! 'Tain't the bigness of her, it's the +nerve. She's got the coldest kind of nerve you ever seen. Hain't +she, Bill?" And again Bill nodded. + +"'Member the day she dropped that steer, Bill?" went on Hi. + +"What was that?" I asked, eager for a yarn. + +"Oh, nuthin'," said Bill. + +"Nuthin'!" retorted Hi. "Pretty big nuthin'!" + +"What was it?" I urged. + +"Oh, Bill here did some funny work at old Meredith's round-up, but +he don't speak of it. He's shy, you see," and Hi grinned. + +"Well, there ain't no occasion for your proceedin' onto that tact," +said Bill disgustedly, and Hi loyally refrained, so I have never +yet got the rights of the story. But from what I did hear I +gathered that Bill, at the risk of his life, had pulled The Duke +from under the hoofs of a mad steer, and that little Gwen had, in +the coolest possible manner, "sailed in on her bronco" and, by +putting two bullets into the steer's head, had saved them both from +great danger, perhaps from death, for the rest of the cattle were +crowding near. Of course Bill could never be persuaded to speak of +the incident. A true western man will never hesitate to tell you +what he can do, but of what he has done he does not readily speak. + +The only other item that Hi contributed to the sketch of Gwen was +that her temper could blaze if the occasion demanded. + +"'Member young Hill, Bill?" + +Bill "'membered." + +"Didn't she cut into him sudden? Sarved him right, too." + +"What did she do?" + +"Cut him across the face with her quirt in good style." + +"What for?" + +"Knockin' about her Indian Joe." + +Joe was, as I came to learn, Ponka's son and Gwen's most devoted +slave. + +"Oh, she ain't no refrigerator." + +"Yes," assented Bill. "She's a leetle swift." Then, as if fearing +he had been apologizing for her, he added, with the air of one +settling the question: "But she's good stock! She suits me!" + +The Duke helped me to another side of her character. + +"She is a remarkable child," he said, one day. "Wild and shy as a +coyote, but fearless, quite; and with a heart full of passions. +Meredith, the Old Timer, you know, has kept her up there among the +hills. She sees no one but himself and Ponka's Blackfeet +relations, who treat her like a goddess and help to spoil her +utterly. She knows their lingo and their ways--goes off with them +for a week at a time." + +"What! With the Blackfeet?" + +"Ponka and Joe, of course, go along; but even without them she is +as safe as if surrounded by the Coldstream Guards, but she has +given them up for some time now." + +"And at home?" I asked. "Has she any education? Can she read or +write?" + +"Not she. She can make her own dresses, moccasins and leggings. +She can cook and wash--that is, when she feels in the mood. And +she knows all about the birds and beasts and flowers and that sort +of thing, but--education! Why, she is hardly civilized!" + +"What a shame!" I said. "How old is she?" + +"Oh, a mere child; fourteen or fifteen, I imagine; but a woman in +many things." + +"And what does her father say to all this? Can he control her?" + +"Control!" said The Duke, in utter astonishment. "Why, bless your +soul, nothing in heaven or earth could control HER. Wait till you +see her stand with her proud little head thrown back, giving orders +to Joe, and you will never again connect the idea of control with +Gwen. She might be a princess for the pride of her. I've seen +some, too, in my day, but none to touch her for sheer, imperial +pride, little Lucifer that she is." + +"And how does her father stand her nonsense?" I asked, for I +confess I was not much taken with the picture The Duke had drawn. + +"Her father simply follows behind her and adores, as do all things +that come near her, down, or up, perhaps, to her two dogs--Wolf and +Loo--for either of which she would readily die if need be. Still," +he added, after a pause, "it IS a shame, as you say. She ought to +know something of the refinements of civilization, to which, after +all, she belongs, and from which none of us can hope to escape." +The Duke was silent for a few moments, and then added, with some +hesitation: "Then, too, she is quite a pagan; never saw a prayer- +book, you know." + +And so it came about, chiefly through The Duke's influence, I +imagine, that I was engaged by the Old Timer to go up to his ranch +every week and teach his daughter something of the elementaries of +a lady's education. + +My introduction was ominous of the many things I was to suffer of +that same young maiden before I had finished my course with her. +The Old Timer had given careful directions as to the trail that +would lead me to the canyon where he was to meet me. Up the Swan +went the trail, winding ever downward into deeper and narrower +coulees and up to higher open sunlit slopes, till suddenly it +settled into a valley which began with great width and narrowed to +a canyon whose rocky sides were dressed out with shrubs and +trailing vines and wet with trickling rivulets from the numerous +springs that oozed and gushed from the black, glistening rocks. +This canyon was an eerie place of which ghostly tales were told +from the old Blackfeet times. And to this day no Blackfoot will +dare to pass through this black-walled, oozy, glistening canyon +after the moon has passed the western lip. But in the warm light +of broad day the canyon was a good enough place; cool and sweet, +and I lingered through, waiting for the Old Timer, who failed to +appear till the shadows began to darken its western black sides. + +Out of the mouth of the canyon the trail climbed to a wide stretch +of prairie that swept up over soft hills to the left and down to +the bright gleaming waters of the Devil's Lake on the right. In +the sunlight the lake lay like a gem radiant with many colors, the +far side black in the shadow of the crowding pines, then in the +middle deep, blue and purple, and nearer, many shades of emerald +that ran quite to the white, sandy beach. Right in front stood the +ranch buildings, upon a slight rising ground and surrounded by a +sturdy palisade of upright pointed poles. This was the castle of +the princess. I rode up to the open gate, then turned and stood to +look down upon the marvellous lake shining and shimmering with its +many radiant colors. Suddenly there was an awful roar, my pony +shot round upon his hind legs after his beastly cayuse manner, +deposited me sitting upon the ground and fled down the trail, +pursued by two huge dogs that brushed past me as I fell. I was +aroused from my amazement by a peal of laughter, shrill but full of +music. Turning, I saw my pupil, as I guessed, standing at the head +of a most beautiful pinto (spotted) pony with a heavy cattle quirt +in her hand. I scrambled to my feet and said, somewhat angrily, I +fear: + +"What are you laughing at? Why don't you call back your dogs? +They will chase my pony beyond all reach." + +She lifted her little head, shook back her masses of brown-red +hair, looked at me as if I were quite beneath contempt and said: +"No, they will kill him." + +"Then," said I, for I was very angry, "I will kill them," pulling +at the revolver in my belt. + +"Then," she said, and for the first time I noticed her eyes blue- +black, with gray rims, "I will kill you," and she whipped out an +ugly-looking revolver. From her face I had no doubt that she would +not hesitate to do as she had said. I changed my tactics, for I +was anxious about my pony, and said, with my best smile: + +"Can't you call them back? Won't they obey you?" + +Her face changed in a moment. + +"Is it your pony? Do you love him very much?" + +"Dearly!" I said, persuading myself of a sudden affection for the +cranky little brute. + +She sprang upon her pinto and set off down the trail. The pony +was now coursing up and down the slopes, doubling like a hare, +instinctively avoiding the canyon where he would be cornered. He +was mad with terror at the huge brutes that were silently but with +awful and sure swiftness running him down. + +The girl on the pinto whistled shrilly, and called to her dogs: +"Down, Wolf! Back, Loo!" but, running low, with long, stretched +bodies, they heeded not, but sped on, ever gaining upon the pony +that now circled toward the pinto. As they drew near in their +circling, the girl urged her pinto to meet them, loosening her +lariat as she went. As the pony neared the pinto he slackened his +speed; immediately the nearer dog gathered herself in two short +jumps and sprang for the pony's throat. But, even as she sprang, +the lariat whirled round the girl's head and fell swift and sure +about the dog's neck, and next moment she lay choking upon the +prairie. Her mate paused, looked back, and gave up the chase. But +dire vengeance overtook them, for, like one possessed, the girl +fell upon them with her quirt and beat them one after the other +till, in pity for the brutes, I interposed. + +"They shall do as I say or I shall kill them! I shall kill them!" +she cried, raging and stamping. + +"Better shoot them," I suggested, pulling out my pistol. + +Immediately she flung herself upon the one that moaned and whined +at her feet, crying: + +"If you dare! If you dare!" Then she burst into passionate +sobbing. "You bad Loo! You bad, dear old Loo! But you WERE bad-- +you KNOW you were bad!" and so she went on with her arms about +Loo's neck till Loo, whining and quivering with love and delight, +threatened to go quite mad, and Wolf, standing majestically near, +broke into short howls of impatience for his turn of caressing. +They made a strange group, those three wild things, equally fierce +and passionate in hate and in love. + +Suddenly the girl remembered me, and standing up she said, half +ashamed: + +"They always obey ME. They are MINE, but they kill any strange +thing that comes in through the gate. They are allowed to." + +"It is a pleasant whim." + +"What?" + +"I mean, isn't that dangerous to strangers?" + +"Oh, no one ever comes alone, except The Duke. And they keep off +the wolves." + +"The Duke comes, does he?" + +"Yes!" and her eyes lit up. "He is my friend. He calls me his +'princess,' and he teaches me to talk and tells me stories--oh, +wonderful stories!" + +I looked in wonder at her face, so gentle, so girlish, and tried to +think back to the picture of the girl who a few moments before had +so coolly threatened to shoot me and had so furiously beaten her +dogs. + +I kept her talking of The Duke as we walked back to the gate, +watching her face the while. It was not beautiful; it was too +thin, and the mouth was too large. But the teeth were good, and +the eyes, blue-black with gray rims, looked straight at you; true +eyes and brave, whether in love or in war. Her hair was her glory. +Red it was, in spite of Hi's denial, but of such marvellous, +indescribable shade that in certain lights, as she rode over the +prairie, it streamed behind her like a purple banner. A most +confusing and bewildering color, but quite in keeping with the +nature of the owner. + +She gave her pinto to Joe and, standing at the door, welcomed me +with a dignity and graciousness that made me think that The Duke +was not far wrong when he named her "Princess." + +The door opened upon the main or living room. It was a long, +apartment, with low ceiling and walls of hewn logs chinked and +plastered and all beautifully whitewashed and clean. The tables, +chairs and benches were all home-made. On the floor were +magnificent skins of wolf, bear, musk ox and mountain goat. The +walls were decorated with heads and horns of deer and mountain +sheep, eagles' wings and a beautiful breast of a loon, which Gwen +had shot and of which she was very proud. At one end of the room a +huge stone fireplace stood radiant in its summer decorations of +ferns and grasses and wild-flowers. At the other end a door opened +into another room, smaller and richly furnished with relics of +former grandeur. + +Everything was clean and well kept. Every nook, shelf and corner +was decked with flowers and ferns from the canyon. + +A strange house it was, full of curious contrasts, but it fitted +this quaint child that welcomed me with such gracious courtesy. + + + +CHAPTER X + +GWEN'S FIRST PRAYERS + + +It was with hesitation, almost with fear, that I began with Gwen; +but even had I been able to foresee the endless series of +exasperations through which she was destined to conduct me, still +would I have undertaken my task. For the child, with all her +wilfulness, her tempers and her pride, made me, as she did all +others, her willing slave. + +Her lessons went on, brilliantly or not at all, according to her +sweet will. She learned to read with extraordinary rapidity, for +she was eager to know more of that great world of which The Duke +had told her such thrilling tales. Writing she abhorred. She had +no one to write to. Why should she cramp her fingers over these +crooked little marks? But she mastered with hardly a struggle the +mysteries of figures, for she would have to sell her cattle, and +"dad doesn't know when they are cheating." Her ideas of education +were purely utilitarian, and what did not appear immediately useful +she refused to trifle with. And so all through the following long +winter she vexed my righteous soul with her wilfulness and pride. +An appeal to her father was idle. She would wind her long, thin +arms about his neck and let her waving red hair float over him +until the old man was quite helpless to exert authority. The Duke +could do most with her. To please him she would struggle with her +crooked letters for an hour at a time, but even his influence and +authority had its limits. + +"Must I?" she said one day, in answer to a demand of his for more +faithful study; "must I?" And throwing up her proud little head, +and shaking back with a trick she had her streaming red hair, she +looked straight at him from her blue-gray eyes and asked the +monosyllabic question, "Why?" And The Duke looked back at her with +his slight smile for a few moments and then said in cold, even +tones: + +"I really don't know why," and turned his back on her. Immediately +she sprang at him, shook him by the arm, and, quivering with +passion, cried: + +"You are not to speak to me like that, and you are not to turn your +back that way!" + +"What a little princess it is," he said admiringly, "and what a +time she will give herself some day!" Then he added, smiling +sadly: "Was I rude, Gwen? Then I am sorry." Her rage was gone, +and she looked as if she could have held him by the feet. As it +was, too proud to show her feelings, she just looked at him with +softening eyes, and then sat down to the work she had refused. +This was after the advent of The Pilot at Swan Creek, and, as The +Duke rode home with me that night, after long musing he said with +hesitation: "She ought to have some religion, poor child; she will +grow up a perfect little devil. The Pilot might be of service if +you could bring him up. Women need that sort of thing; it refines, +you know." + +"Would she have him?" I asked. + +"Question," he replied, doubtfully. "You might suggest it." + +Which I did, introducing somewhat clumsily, I fear, The Duke's +name. + +"The Duke says he is to make me good!" she cried. "I won't have +him, I hate him and you too!" And for that day she disdained all +lessons, and when The Duke next appeared she greeted him with the +exclamation, "I won't have your old Pilot, and I don't want to be +good, and--and--you think he's no good yourself," at which the Duke +opened his eyes. + +"How do you know? I never said so!" + +"You laughed at him to dad one day." + +"Did I?" said The Duke, gravely. "Then I hasten to assure, you +that I have changed my mind. He is a good, brave man." + +"He falls off his horse," she said, with contempt. + +"I rather think he sticks on now," replied The Duke, repressing a +smile. + +"Besides," she went on, "he's just a kid; Bill said so." + +"Well, he might be more ancient," acknowledged The Duke, "but in +that he is steadily improving." + +"Anyway," with an air of finality, "he is not to come here." + +But he did come, and under her own escort, one threatening August +evening. + +"I found him in the creek," she announced, with defiant +shamefacedness, marching in The Pilot half drowned. + +"I think I could have crossed," he said, apologetically, "for Louis +was getting on his feet again." + +"No, you wouldn't," she protested. "You would have been down into +the canyon by now, and you ought to be thankful." + +"So I am," he hastened to say, "very! But," he added, unwilling to +give up his contention, "I have crossed the Swan before." + +"Not when it was in flood." + +"Yes, when it was in flood, higher than now." + +"Not where the banks are rocky." + +"No-o!" he hesitated. + +"There, then, you WOULD have been drowned but for my lariat!" she +cried, triumphantly. + +To this he doubtfully assented. + +They were much alike, in high temper, in enthusiasm, in vivid +imagination, and in sensitive feeling. When the Old Timer came in +Gwen triumphantly introduced The Pilot as having been rescued from +a watery grave by her lariat, and again they fought out the +possibilities of drowning and of escape till Gwen almost lost her +temper, and was appeased only by the most profuse expressions of +gratitude on the part of The Pilot for her timely assistance. The +Old Timer was perplexed. He was afraid to offend Gwen and yet +unwilling to be cordial to her guest. The Pilot was quick to feel +this, and, soon after tea, rose to go. Gwen's disappointment +showed in her face. + +"Ask him to stay, dad," she said, in a whisper. But the half- +hearted invitation acted like a spur, and The Pilot was determined +to set off. + +"There's a bad storm coming," she said; "and besides," she added, +triumphantly "you can't cross the Swan." + +This settled it, and the most earnest prayers of the Old Timer +could not have held him back. + +We all went down to see him cross, Gwen leading her pinto. The +Swan was far over its banks, and in the middle running swift and +strong. Louis snorted, refused and finally plunged. Bravely he +swam, till the swift-running water struck him, and over he went on +his side, throwing his rider into the water. But The Pilot kept +his head, and, holding by the stirrups, paddled along by Louis' +side. When they were half-way across Louis saw that he had no +chance of making the landing; so, like a sensible horse, he turned +and made for the shore. Here, too, the banks were high, and the +pony began to grow discouraged. + +"Let him float down further!" shrieked Gwen, in anxious excitement; +and, urging her pinto down the bank, she coaxed the struggling pony +down the stream till opposite a shelf of rock level with the high +water. Then she threw her lariat, and, catching Louis about the +neck and the horn of his saddle, she held taut, till, half drowned, +he scrambled up the bank, dragging The Pilot with him. + +"Oh, I'm so glad!" she said, almost tearfully. "You see, you +couldn't get across." + +The Pilot staggered to his feet, took a step toward her, gasped +out: + +"I can!" and pitched headlong. With a little cry she flew to him, +and turned him over on his back. In a few moments he revived, sat +up, and looked about stupidly. + +"Where's Louis?" he said, with his face toward the swollen stream. + +"Safe enough," she answered; "but you must come in, the rain is +just going to pour." + +But The Pilot seemed possessed. + +"No, I'm going across," he said, rising. + +Gwen was greatly distressed. + +"But your poor horse," she said, cleverly changing her ground; "he +is quite tired out." + +The Old Timer now joined earnestly in urging him to stay till the +storm was past. So, with a final look at the stream, The Pilot +turned toward the house. + +Of course I knew what would happen. Before the evening was over he +had captured the household. The moment he appeared with dry things +on he ran to the organ, that had stood for ten years closed and +silent, opened it and began to play. As he played and sang song +after song, the Old Timer's eyes began to glisten under his shaggy +brows. But when he dropped into the exquisite Irish melody, "Oft +in the Stilly Night," the old man drew a hard breath and groaned +out to me: + +"It was her mother's song," and from that time The Pilot had him +fast. It was easy to pass to the old hymn, "Nearer, My God, to +Thee," and then The Pilot said simply, "May we have prayers?" He +looked at Gwen, but she gazed blankly at him and then at her +father. + +"What does he say, dad?" + +It was pitiful to see the old man's face grow slowly red under the +deep tan, as he said: + +"You may, sir. There's been none here for many years, and the +worse for us." He rose slowly, went into the inner room and +returned with a Bible. + +"It's her mother's," he said, in a voice deep with emotion. "I put +it in her trunk the day I laid her out yonder under the pines." +The Pilot, without looking at him, rose and reverently took the +book in both his hands and said gently: + +"It was a sad day for you, but for her--" He paused. "You did not +grudge it to her?" + +"Not now, but then, yes! I wanted her, we needed her." The Old +Timer's tears were flowing. + +The Pilot put his hand caressingly upon the old man's shoulder as +if he had been his father, and said in his clear, sweet voice, +"Some day you will go to her." + +Upon this scene poor Gwen gazed with eyes wide open with amazement +and a kind of fear. She had never seen her father weep since the +awful day that she could never forget, when he had knelt in dumb +agony beside the bed on which her mother lay white and still; nor +would he heed her till, climbing up, she tried to make her mother +waken and hear her cries. Then he had caught her up in his arms, +pressing her with tears and great sobs to his heart. To-night she +seemed to feel that something was wrong. She went and stood by her +father, and, stroking his gray hair kindly, she said: + +"What is he saying, daddy? Is he making you cry?" She looked at +The Pilot defiantly. + +"No, no, child," said the old man, hastily, "sit here and listen." + +And while the storm raved outside we three sat listening to that +ancient story of love ineffable. And, as the words fell like +sweet music upon our ears, the old man sat with eyes that looked +far away, while the child listened with devouring eagerness. + +"Is it a fairy tale, daddy?" she asked, as The Pilot paused. "It +isn't true, is it?" and her voice had a pleading note hard for the +old man to bear. + +"Yes, yes, my child," said he, brokenly. "God forgive me!" + +"Of course it's true," said The Pilot, quickly. "I'll read it all +to you to-morrow. It's a beautiful story!" + +"No," she said, imperiously, "to-night. Read it now! Go on!" she +said, stamping her foot, "don't you hear me?" + +The Pilot gazed in surprise at her, and then turning to the old +man, said: + +"Shall I?" + +The Old Timer simply nodded and the reading went on. Those were +not my best days, and the faith of my childhood was not as it had +been; but, as The Pilot carried us through those matchless scenes +of self-forgetting love and service the rapt wonder in the child's +face as she listened, the appeal in her voice as, now to her +father, and now to me, she cried: "Is THAT true, too? Is it ALL +true?" made it impossible for me to hesitate in my answer. And I +was glad to find it easy to give my firm adherence to the truth of +all that tale of wonder. And, as more and more it grew upon The +Pilot that the story he was reading, so old to him and to all he +had ever met, was new to one in that listening group, his face +began to glow and his eyes to blaze, and he saw and showed me +things that night I had never seen before, nor have I seen them +since. The great figure of the Gospels lived, moved before our +eyes. We saw Him bend to touch the blind, we heard Him speak His +marvellous teaching, we felt the throbbing excitement of the crowds +that pressed against Him. + +Suddenly The Pilot stopped, turned over the leaves and began again: +"And He led them out as far as to Bethany. And He lifted up His +hands and blessed them. And it came to pass as He blessed them He +was parted from them and a cloud received Him out of their sight." +There was silence for some minutes, then Gwen said: + +"Where did He go?" + +"Up into Heaven," answered The Pilot, simply. + +"That's where mother is," she said to her father, who nodded in +reply. + +"Does He know?" she asked. The old man looked distressed. + +"Of course He does," said The Pilot, "and she sees Him all the +time." + +"Oh, daddy!" she cried, "isn't that good?" + +But the old man only hid his face in his hands and groaned. + +"Yes," went on The Pilot, "and He sees us, too, and hears us speak, +and knows our thoughts." + +Again the look of wonder and fear came into her eyes, but she said +no word. The experiences of the evening had made the world new to +her. It could never be the same to her again. It gave me a queer +feeling to see her, when we three kneeled to pray, stand helplessly +looking on, not knowing what to do, then sink beside her father, +and, winding her arms about his neck, cling to him as the words of +prayer were spoken into the ear of Him whom no man can see, but who +we believe is near to all that call upon Him. + +Those were Gwen's first "prayers," and in them Gwen's part was +small, for fear and wonder filled her heart; but the day was to +come, and all too soon, when she should have to pour out her soul +with strong crying and tears. That day came and passed, but the +story of it is not to be told here. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GWEN'S CHALLENGE + + +Gwen was undoubtedly wild and, as The Sky Pilot said, wilful and +wicked. Even Bronco Bill and Hi Kendal would say so, without, of +course, abating one jot of their admiration for her. For fourteen +years she had lived chiefly with wild things. The cattle on the +range, wild as deer, the coyotes, the jack-rabbits and the timber +wolves were her mates and her instructors. From these she learned +her wild ways. The rolling prairie of the Foothill country was +her home. She loved it and all things that moved upon it with +passionate love, the only kind she was capable of. And all summer +long she spent her days riding up and down the range alone, or with +her father, or with Joe, or, best of all, with The Duke, her hero +and her friend. So she grew up strong, wholesome and self-reliant, +fearing nothing alive and as untamed as a yearling range colt. + +She was not beautiful. The winds and sun had left her no complexion +to speak of, but the glory of her red hair, gold-red, with purple +sheen, nothing could tarnish. Her eyes, too, deep blue with rims of +gray, that flashed with the glint of steel or shone with melting +light as of the stars, according to her mood--those Irish, warm, +deep eyes of hers were worth a man's looking at. + +Of course, all spoiled her. Ponka and her son Joe grovelled in +abjectest adoration, while her father and all who came within touch +of her simply did her will. Even The Duke, who loved her better +than anything else, yielded lazy, admiring homage to his Little +Princess, and certainly, when she stood straight up with her proud +little gold-crowned head thrown back, flashing forth wrath or +issuing imperious commands, she looked a princess, all of her. + +It was a great day and a good day for her when she fished The Sky +Pilot out of the Swan and brought him home, and the night of Gwen's +first "prayers," when she heard for the first time the story of the +Man of Nazareth, was the best of all her nights up to that time. +All through the winter, under The Pilot's guidance, she, with her +father, the Old Timer, listening near, went over and over that +story so old now to many, but ever becoming new, till a whole new +world of mysterious Powers and Presences lay open to her imagination +and became the home of great realities. She was rich in imagination +and, when The Pilot read Bunyan's immortal poem, her mother's old +"Pilgrim's Progress," she moved and lived beside the hero of that +tale, backing him up in his fights and consumed with anxiety over +his many impending perils, till she had him safely across the river +and delivered into the charge of the shining ones. + +The Pilot himself, too, was a new and wholesome experience. He was +the first thing she had yet encountered that refused submission, +and the first human being that had failed to fall down and worship. +There was something in him that would not ALWAYS yield, and, +indeed, her pride and her imperious tempers he met with surprise +and sometimes with a pity that verged toward contempt. With this +she was not well pleased and not infrequently she broke forth upon +him. One of these outbursts is stamped upon my mind, not only +because of its unusual violence, but chiefly because of the events +which followed. The original cause of her rage was some trifling +misdeed of the unfortunate Joe; but when I came upon the scene it +was The Pilot who was occupying her attention. The expression of +surprise and pity on his face appeared to stir her up. + +"How dare you look at me like that?" she cried. + +"How very extraordinary that you can't keep hold of yourself +better!" he answered. + +"I can!" she stamped, "and I shall do as I like!" + +"It is a great pity," he said, with provoking calm, "and besides, +it is weak and silly." His words were unfortunate. + +"Weak!" she gasped, when her breath came back to her. "Weak!" + +"Yes," he said, "very weak and childish." + +Then she could have cheerfully put him to a slow and cruel death. +When she had recovered a little she cried vehemently: + +"I'm not weak! I'm strong! I'm stronger than you are! I'm strong +as--as--a man!" + +I do not suppose she meant the insinuation; at any rate The Pilot +ignored it and went on. + +"You're not strong enough to keep your temper down." And then, as +she had no reply ready, he went on, "And really, Gwen, it is not +right. You must not go on in this way." + +Again his words were unfortunate. + +"MUST NOT!" she cried, adding an inch to her height. "Who says +so?" + +"God!" was the simple, short answer. + +She was greatly taken back, and gave a quick glance over her +shoulder as if to see Him, who would dare to say MUST NOT to her; +but, recovering, she answered sullenly: + +"I don't care!" + +"Don't care for God?" The Pilot's voice was quiet and solemn, but +something in his manner angered her, and she blazed forth again. + +"I don't care for anyone, and I SHALL do as I like." + +The Pilot looked at her sadly for a moment, and then said slowly: + +"Some day, Gwen, you will not be able to do as you like." + +I remember well the settled defiance in her tone and manner as she +took a step nearer him and answered in a voice trembling with +passion: + +"Listen! I have always done as I like, and I shall do as I like +till I die!" And she rushed forth from the house and down toward +the canyon, her refuge from all disturbing things, and chiefly from +herself. + +I could not shake off the impression her words made upon me. +"Pretty direct, that," I said to The Pilot, as we rode away. "The +declaration may be philosophically correct, but it rings uncommonly +like a challenge to the Almighty. Throws down the gauntlet, so to +speak." + +But The Pilot only said, "Don't! How can you?" + +Within a week her challenge was accepted, and how fiercely and how +gallantly did she struggle to make it good! + +It was The Duke that brought me the news, and as he told me the +story his gay, careless self-command for once was gone. For in the +gloom of the canyon where he overtook me I could see his face +gleaming out ghastly white, and even his iron nerve could not keep +the tremor from his voice. + +"I've just sent up the doctor," was his answer to my greeting. "I +looked for you last night, couldn't find you, and so rode off to +the Fort." + +"What's up?" I said, with fear in my heart, for no light thing +moved The Duke. + +"Haven't you heard? It's Gwen," he said, and the next minute or +two he gave to Jingo, who was indulging in a series of unexpected +plunges. When Jingo was brought down, The Duke was master of +himself and told his tale with careful self-control. + +Gwen, on her father's buckskin bronco, had gone with The Duke to +the big plain above the cut-bank where Joe was herding the cattle. +The day was hot and a storm was in the air. They found Joe riding +up and down, singing to keep the cattle quiet, but having a hard +time to hold the bunch from breaking. While The Duke was riding +around the far side of the bunch, a cry from Gwen arrested his +attention. Joe was in trouble. His horse, a half-broken cayuse, +had stumbled into a badger-hole and had bolted, leaving Joe to the +mercy of the cattle. At once they began to sniff suspiciously at +this phenomenon, a man on foot, and to follow cautiously on his +track. Joe kept his head and walked slowly out, till all at once a +young cow began to bawl and to paw the ground. In another minute +one, and then another of the cattle began to toss their heads and +bunch and bellow till the whole herd of two hundred were after Joe. +Then Joe lost his head and ran. Immediately the whole herd broke +into a thundering gallop with heads and tails aloft and horns +rattling like the loading of a regiment of rifles. + +"Two more minutes," said The Duke, "would have done for Joe, for I +could never have reached him; but, in spite of my most frantic +warnings and signalings, right into the face of that mad, +bellowing, thundering mass of steers rode that little girl. Nerve! +I have some myself, but I couldn't have done it. She swung her +horse round Joe and sailed out with him, with the herd bellowing at +the tail of her bronco. I've seen some cavalry things in my day, +but for sheer cool bravery nothing touches that." + +"How did it end? Did they run them down?" I asked, with terror at +such a result. + +"No, they crowded her toward the cut-bank, and she was edging them +off and was almost past, when they came to a place where the bank +bit in, and her iron-mouthed brute wouldn't swerve, but went +pounding on, broke through, plunged; she couldn't spring free +because of Joe, and pitched headlong over the bank, while the +cattle went thundering past. I flung myself off Jingo and slid +down somehow into the sand, thirty feet below. Here was Joe safe +enough, but the bronco lay with a broken leg, and half under him +was Gwen. She hardly knew she was hurt, but waved her hand to me +and cried out, 'Wasn't that a race? I couldn't swing this hard- +headed brute. Get me out.' But even as she spoke the light faded +from her eyes, she stretched out her hands to me, saying faintly, +'Oh, Duke,' and lay back white and still. We put a bullet into the +buckskin's head, and carried her home in our jackets, and there she +lies without a sound from her poor, white lips." + +The Duke was badly cut up. I had never seen him show any sign of +grief before, but as he finished the story he stood ghastly and +shaking. He read my surprise in my face and said: + +"Look here, old chap, don't think me quite a fool. You can't know +what that little girl has done for me these years. Her trust in +me--it is extraordinary how utterly she trusts me--somehow held me +up to my best and back from perdition. It is the one bright spot +in my life in this blessed country. Everyone else thinks me a +pleasant or unpleasant kind of fiend." + +I protested rather faintly. + +"Oh, don't worry your conscience," he answered, with a slight +return of his old smile, "a fuller knowledge would only justify the +opinion." Then, after a pause, he added: "But if Gwen goes, I must +pull out, I could not stand it." + +As we rode up, the doctor came out. + +"Well, what do you think?" asked The Duke. + +"Can't say yet," replied the old doctor, gruff with long army +practice, "bad enough. Good night." + +But The Duke's hand fell upon his shoulder with a grip that must +have got to the bone, and in a husky voice he asked: + +"Will she live?" + +The doctor squirmed, but could not shake off that crushing grip. + +"Here, you young tiger, let go! What do you think I am made of?" +he cried, angrily. "I didn't suppose I was coming to a bear's den, +or I should have brought a gun." + +It was only by the most complete apology that The Duke could +mollify the old doctor sufficiently to get his opinion. + +"No, she will not die! Great bit of stuff! Better she should die, +perhaps! But can't say yet for two weeks. Now remember," he added +sharply, looking into The Duke's woe-stricken face, "her spirits +must be kept up. I have lied most fully and cheerfully to them +inside; you must do the same," and the doctor strode away, calling +out: + +"Joe! Here, Joe! Where is he gone? Joe, I say! Extraordinary +selection Providence makes at times; we could have spared that lazy +half-breed with pleasure! Joe! Oh, here you are! Where in +thunder--" But here the doctor stopped abruptly. The agony in the +dark face before him was too much even for the bluff doctor. +Straight and stiff Joe stood by the horse's head till the doctor +had mounted, then with a great effort he said: + +"Little miss, she go dead?" + +"Dead!" called out the doctor, glancing at the open window. "Why, +bless your old copper carcass, no! Gwen will show you yet how to +rope a steer." + +Joe took a step nearer, and lowering his tone said: + +"You speak me true? Me man, Me no papoose." The piercing black +eyes searched the doctor's face. The doctor hesitated a moment, +and then, with an air of great candor, said cheerily: + +"That's all right, Joe. Miss Gwen will cut circles round your old +cayuse yet. But remember," and the doctor was very impressive, +"you must make her laugh every day." + +Joe folded his arms across his breast and stood like a statue till +the doctor rode away; then turning to us he grunted out: + +"Him good man, eh?" + +"Good man," answered The Duke, adding, "but remember, Joe, what he +told you to do. Must make her laugh every day." + +Poor Joe! Humor was not his forte, and his attempt in this +direction in the weeks that followed would have been humorous were +they not so pathetic. How I did my part I cannot tell. Those +weeks are to me now like the memory of an ugly nightmare. The +ghostly old man moving out and in of his little daughter's room +in useless, dumb agony; Ponka's woe-stricken Indian face; Joe's +extraordinary and unusual but loyal attempts at fun-making +grotesquely sad, and The Duke's unvarying and invincible +cheeriness; these furnish light and shade for the picture my +memory brings me of Gwen in those days. + +For the first two weeks she was simply heroic. She bore her pain +without a groan, submitted to the imprisonment which was harder +than pain with angelic patience. Joe, The Duke and I carried out +our instructions with careful exactness to the letter. She never +doubted, and we never let her doubt but that in a few weeks she +would be on the pinto's back again and after the cattle. She made +us pass our word for this till it seemed as if she must have read +the falsehoods on our brows. + +"To lie cheerfully with her eyes upon one's face calls for more +than I possess," said The Duke one day. "The doctor should supply +us tonics. It is an arduous task." + +And she believed us absolutely, and made plans for the fall "round- +up," and for hunts and rides till one's heart grew sick. As to the +ethical problem involved, I decline to express an opinion, but we +had no need to wait for our punishment. Her trust in us, her eager +and confident expectation of the return of her happy, free, outdoor +life; these brought to us, who knew how vain they were, their own +adequate punishment for every false assurance we gave. And how +bright and brave she was those first days! How resolute to get +back to the world of air and light outside! + +But she had need of all her brightness and courage and resolution +before she was done with her long fight. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +GWEN'S CANYON + + +Gwen's hope and bright courage, in spite of all her pain, were +wonderful to witness. But all this cheery hope and courage and +patience snuffed out as a candle, leaving noisome darkness to +settle down in that sick-room from the day of the doctor's +consultation. + +The verdict was clear and final. The old doctor, who loved Gwen as +his own, was inclined to hope against hope, but Fawcett, the clever +young doctor from the distant town, was positive in his opinion. +The scene is clear to me now, after many years. We three stood in +the outer room; The Duke and her father were with Gwen. So earnest +was the discussion that none of us heard the door open just as +young Fawcett was saying in incisive tones: + +"No! I can see no hope. The child can never walk again." + +There was a cry behind us. + +"What! Never walk again! It's a lie!" There stood the Old Timer, +white, fierce, shaking. + +"Hush!" said the old doctor, pointing at the open door. He was too +late. Even as he spoke, there came from the inner room a wild, +unearthly cry as of some dying thing and, as we stood gazing at one +another with awe-stricken faces, we heard Gwen's voice as in quick, +sharp pain. + +"Daddy! daddy! come! What do they say? Tell me, daddy. It is not +true! It is not true! Look at me, daddy!" + +She pulled up her father's haggard face from the bed. + +"Oh, daddy, daddy, you know it's true. Never walk again!" + +She turned with a pitiful cry to The Duke, who stood white and +stiff with arms drawn tight across his breast on the other side of +the bed. + +"Oh, Duke, did you hear them? You told me to be brave, and I tried +not to cry when they hurt me. But I can't be brave! Can I, Duke? +Oh, Duke! Never to ride again!" + +She stretched out her hands to him. But The Duke, leaning over her +and holding her hands fast in his, could only say brokenly over and +over: "Don't, Gwen! Don't, Gwen dear!" + +But the pitiful, pleading voice went on. + +"Oh, Duke! Must I always lie here? Must, I? Why must I?" + +"God knows," answered The Duke bitterly, under his breath, "I +don't!" + +She caught at the word. + +"Does He?" she cried, eagerly. Then she paused suddenly, turned to +me and said: "Do you remember he said some day I could not do as I +liked?" + +I was puzzled. + +"The Pilot," she cried, impatiently, "don't you remember? And I +said I should do as I liked till I died." + +I nodded my head and said: "But you know you didn't mean it." + +"But I did, and I do," she cried, with passionate vehemence, "and I +will do as I like! I will not lie here! I will ride! I will! I +will! I will!" and she struggled up, clenched her fists, and sank +back faint and weak. It was not a pleasant sight, but gruesome. +Her rage against that Unseen Omnipotence was so defiant and so +helpless. + +Those were dreadful weeks to Gwen and to all about her. The +constant pain could not break her proud spirit; she shed no tears; +but she fretted and chafed and grew more imperiously exacting every +day. Ponka and Joe she drove like a slave master, and even her +father, when he could not understand her wishes, she impatiently +banished from her room. Only The Duke could please or bring her +any cheer, and even The Duke began to feel that the day was not far +off when he, too, would fail, and the thought made him despair. +Her pain was hard to bear, but harder than the pain was her longing +for the open air and the free, flower-strewn, breeze-swept prairie. +But most pitiful of all were the days when, in her utter weariness +and uncontrollable unrest, she would pray to be taken down into the +canyon. + +"Oh, it is so cool and shady," she would plead, "and the flowers up +in the rocks and the vines and things are all so lovely. I am +always better there. I know I should be better," till The Duke +would be distracted and would come to me and wonder what the end +would be. + +One day, when the strain had been more terrible than usual, The +Duke rode down to me and said: + +"Look here, this thing can't go on. Where is The Pilot gone? Why +doesn't he stay where he belongs? I wish to Heaven he would get +through with his absurd rambling." + +"He's gone where he was sent," I replied shortly. "You don't set +much store by him when he does come round. He is gone on an +exploring trip through the Dog Lake country. He'll be back by the +end of next week." + +"I say, bring him up, for Heaven's sake," said The Duke, "he may be +of some use, and anyway it will be a new face for her, poor child." +Then he added, rather penitently: "I fear this thing is getting on +to my nerves. She almost drove me out to-day. Don't lay it up +against me, old chap." + +It was a new thing to hear The Duke confess his need of any man, +much less penitence for a fault. I felt my eyes growing dim, but I +said, roughly: + +"You be hanged! I'll bring The Pilot up when he comes." + +It was wonderful how we had all come to confide in The Pilot during +his year of missionary work among us. Somehow the cowboy's name of +"Sky Pilot" seemed to express better than anything else the place +he held with us. Certain it is, that when, in their dark hours, +any of the fellows felt in need of help to strike the "upward +trail," they went to The Pilot; and so the name first given in +chaff came to be the name that expressed most truly the deep and +tender feeling these rough, big-hearted men cherished for him. +When The Pilot came home I carefully prepared him for his trial, +telling all that Gwen had suffered and striving to make him feel +how desperate was her case when even The Duke had to confess +himself beaten. He did not seem sufficiently impressed. Then I +pictured for him all her fierce wilfulness and her fretful humors, +her impatience with those who loved her and were wearing out their +souls and bodies for her. "In short," I concluded, "she doesn't +care a rush for anything in heaven or earth, and will yield to +neither man nor God." + +The Pilot's eyes had been kindling as I talked, but he only +answered, quietly: + +"What could you expect?" + +"Well, I do think she might show some signs of gratitude and some +gentleness towards those ready to die for her." + +"Oh, you do!" said he, with high scorn. "You all combine to ruin +her temper and disposition with foolish flattery and weak yielding +to her whims, right or wrong; you smile at her imperious pride and +encourage her wilfulness, and then not only wonder at the results, +but blame her, poor child, for all. Oh, you are a fine lot, The +Duke and all of you!" + +He had a most exasperating ability for putting one in the wrong, +and I could only think of the proper and sufficient reply long +after the opportunity for making it had passed. I wondered what +The Duke would say to this doctrine. All the following day, which +was Sunday, I could see that Gwen was on The Pilot's mind. He was +struggling with the problem of pain. + +Monday morning found us on the way to the Old Timer's ranch. And +what a morning it was! How beautiful our world seemed! About us +rolled the round-topped, velvet hills, brown and yellow or faintly +green, spreading out behind us to the broad prairie, and before, +clambering up and up to meet the purple bases of the great +mountains that lay their mighty length along the horizon and thrust +up white, sunlit peaks into the blue sky. On the hillsides and +down in the sheltering hollows we could see the bunches of cattle +and horses feeding upon the rich grasses. High above, the sky, +cloudless and blue, arched its great kindly roof from prairie to +mountain peaks, and over all, above, below, upon prairie, hillsides +and mountains, the sun poured his floods of radiant yellow light. + +As we followed the trail that wound up and into the heart of these +rounded hills and ever nearer to the purple mountains, the morning +breeze swept down to meet us, bearing a thousand scents, and +filling us with its own fresh life. One can know the quickening +joyousness of these Foothill breezes only after he has drunk with +wide-open mouth, deep and full of them. + +Through all this mingling beauty of sunlit hills and shady hollows +and purple, snow-peaked mountains, we rode with hardly a word, +every minute adding to our heart-filling delight, but ever with the +thought of the little room where, shut in from all this outside +glory, lay Gwen, heart-sore with fretting and longing. This must +have been in The Pilot's mind, for he suddenly held up his horse +and burst out: + +"Poor Gwen, how she loves all this!--it is her very life. How can +she help fretting the heart out of her? To see this no more!" He +flung himself off his bronco and said, as if thinking aloud: "It is +too awful! Oh, it is cruel! I don't wonder at her! God help me, +what can I say to her?" + +He threw himself down upon the grass and turned over on his face. +After a few minutes he appealed to me, and his face was sorely +troubled. + +"How can one go to her? It seems to me sheerest mockery to speak +of patience and submission to a wild young thing from whom all this +is suddenly snatched forever--and this was very life to her, too, +remember." + +Then he sprang up and we rode hard for an hour, till we came to the +mouth of the canyon. Here the trail grew difficult and we came to +a walk. As we went down into the cool depths the spirit of the +canyon came to meet us and took The Pilot in its grip. He rode in +front, feasting his eyes on all the wonders in that storehouse of +beauty. Trees of many kinds deepened the shadows of the canyon. +Over us waved the big elms that grew up here and there out of the +bottom, and around their feet clustered low cedars and hemlocks and +balsams, while the sturdy, rugged oaks and delicate, trembling +poplars clung to the rocky sides and clambered up and out to the +canyon's sunny lips. Back of all, the great black rocks, decked +with mossy bits and clinging things, glistened cool and moist +between the parting trees. From many an oozy nook the dainty +clematis and columbine shook out their bells, and, lower down, from +beds of many-colored moss the late wind-flower and maiden-hair and +tiny violet lifted up brave, sweet faces. And through the canyon +the Little Swan sang its song to rocks and flowers and overhanging +trees, a song of many tones, deep-booming where it took its first +sheer plunge, gay-chattering where it threw itself down the ragged +rocks, and soft-murmuring where it lingered about the roots of the +loving, listening elms. A cool, sweet, soothing place it was, with +all its shades and sounds and silences, and, lest it should be sad +to any, the sharp, quick sunbeams danced and laughed down through +all its leaves upon mosses, flowers and rocks. No wonder that The +Pilot, drawing a deep breath as he touched the prairie sod again, +said: + +"That does me good. It is better at times even than the sunny +hills. This was Gwen's best spot." + +I saw that the canyon had done its work with him. His face was +strong and calm as the hills on a summer morning, and with this +face he looked in upon Gwen. It was one of her bad days and one of +her bad moods, but like a summer breeze he burst into the little +room. + +"Oh, Gwen!" he cried, without a word of greeting, much less of +Commiseration, "we have had such a ride!" And he spread out the +sunlit, round-topped hills before her, till I could feel their very +breezes in my face. This The Duke had never dared to do, fearing +to grieve her with pictures of what she should look upon no more. +But, as The Pilot talked, before she knew, Gwen was out again upon +her beloved hills, breathing their fresh, sunny air, filling her +heart with their multitudinous delights, till her eyes grew bright +and the lines of fretting smoothed out of her face and she forgot +her pain. Then, before she could remember, he had her down into +the canyon, feasting her heart with its airs and sights and sounds. +The black, glistening rocks, tricked out with moss and trailing +vines, the great elms and low green cedars, the oaks and shivering +poplars, the clematis and columbine hanging from the rocky nooks, +and the violets and maiden-hair deep bedded in their mosses. All +this and far more he showed her with a touch so light as not to +shake the morning dew from bell or leaf or frond, and with a voice +so soft and full of music as to fill our hearts with the canyon's +mingling sounds, and, as I looked upon her face, I said to myself: +"Dear old Pilot! for this I shall always love you well." As poor +Gwen listened, the rapture of it drew the big tears down her +cheeks--alas! no longer brown, but white, and for that day at least +the dull, dead weariness was lifted from her heart. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CANYON FLOWERS + + +The Pilot's first visit to Gwen had been a triumph. But none knew +better than he that the fight was still to come, for deep in Gwen's +heart were thoughts whose pain made her forget all other. + +"Was it God let me fall?" she asked abruptly one day, and The Pilot +knew the fight was on; but he only answered, looking fearlessly +into her eyes: + +"Yes, Gwen dear." + +"Why did He let me fall?" and her voice was very deliberate. + +"I don't know, Gwen dear," said The Pilot steadily. "He knows." + +"And does He know I shall never ride again? Does He know how long +the days are, and the nights when I can't sleep? Does He know?" + +"Yes, Gwen dear," said The Pilot, and the tears were standing in +his eyes, though his voice was still steady enough. + +"Are you sure He knows?" The voice was painfully intense. + +"Listen to me, Gwen," began The Pilot, in great distress, but she +cut him short. + +"Are you quite sure He knows? Answer me!" she cried, with her old +imperiousness. + +"Yes, Gwen, He knows all about you." + +"Then what do you think of Him, just because He's big and strong, +treating a little girl that way?" Then she added, viciously: "I +hate Him! I don't care! I hate Him!" + +But The Pilot did not wince. I wondered how he would solve that +problem that was puzzling, not only Gwen, but her father and The +Duke, and all of us--the WHY of human pain. + +"Gwen," said The Pilot, as if changing the subject, "did it hurt to +put on the plaster jacket?" + +"You just bet!" said Gwen, lapsing in her English, as The Duke was +not present; "it was worse than anything--awful! They had to +straighten me out, you know," and she shuddered at the memory of +that pain. + +"What a pity your father or The Duke was not here!" said The Pilot, +earnestly. + +"Why, they were both here!" + +"What a cruel shame!" burst out The Pilot. "Don't they care for +you any more?" + +"Of course they do," said Gwen, indignantly. + +"Why didn't they stop the doctors from hurting you so cruelly?" + +"Why, they let the doctors. It is going to help me to sit up and +perhaps to walk about a little," answered Gwen, with blue-gray eyes +open wide. + +"Oh," said The Pilot, "it was very mean to stand by and see you +hurt like that." + +"Why, you silly," replied Owen, impatiently, "they want my back to +get straight and strong." + +"Oh, then they didn't do it just for fun or for nothing?" said The +Pilot, innocently. + +Gwen gazed at him in amazed and speechless wrath, and he went on: + +"I mean they love you though they let you be hurt; or rather they +let the doctors hurt you BECAUSE they loved you and wanted to make +you better." + +Gwen kept her eyes fixed with curious earnestness upon his face +till the light began to dawn. + +"Do you mean," she began slowly, "that though God let me fall, He +loves me?" + +The Pilot nodded; he could not trust his voice. + +"I wonder if that can be true," she said, as if to herself; and +soon we said good-by and came away--The Pilot, limp and voiceless, +but I triumphant, for I began to see a little light for Gwen. + +But the fight was by no means over; indeed, it was hardly well +begun. For when the autumn came, with its misty, purple days, most +glorious of all days in the cattle country, the old restlessness +came back and the fierce refusal of her lot. Then came the day of +the round-up. Why should she have to stay while all went after the +cattle? The Duke would have remained, but she impatiently sent him +away. She was weary and heart-sick, and, worst of all, she began +to feel that most terrible of burdens, the burden of her life to +others. I was much relieved when The Pilot came in fresh and +bright, waving a bunch of wild-flowers in his hand. + +"I thought they were all gone," he cried. "Where do you think I +found them? Right down by the big elm root," and, though he saw by +the settled gloom of her face that the storm was coming, he went +bravely on picturing the canyon in all the splendor of its autumn +dress. But the spell would not work. Her heart was out on the +sloping hills, where the cattle were bunching and crowding with +tossing heads and rattling horns, and it was in a voice very bitter +and impatient that she cried: + +"Oh, I am sick of all this! I want to ride! I want to see the +cattle and the men and--and--and all the things outside." The +Pilot was cowboy enough to know the longing that tugged at her +heart for one wild race after the calves or steers, but he could +only say: + +"Wait, Gwen. Try to be patient." + +"I am patient; at least I have been patient for two whole months, +and it's no use, and I don't believe God cares one bit!" + +"Yes, He does, Gwen, more than any of us," replied The Pilot, +earnestly. + +"No, He does not care," she answered, with angry emphasis, and The +Pilot made no reply. + +"Perhaps," she went on, hesitatingly, "He's angry because I said I +didn't care for Him, you remember? That was very wicked. But +don't you think I'm punished nearly enough now? You made me very +angry, and I didn't really mean it." + +Poor Gwen! God had grown to be very real to her during these weeks +of pain, and very terrible. The Pilot looked down a moment into +the blue-gray eyes, grown so big and so pitiful, and hurriedly +dropping on his knees beside the bed he said, in a very unsteady +voice: + +"Oh, Gwen, Gwen, He's not like that. Don't you remember how Jesus +was with the poor sick people? That's what He's like." + +"Could Jesus make me well?" + +"Yes, Gwen." + +"Then why doesn't He?" she asked; and there was no impatience now, +but only trembling anxiety as she went on in a timid voice: "I +asked Him to, over and over, and said I would wait two months, and +now it's more than three. Are you quite sure He hears now?" She +raised herself on her elbow and gazed searchingly into The Pilot's +face. I was glad it was not into mine. As she uttered the words, +"Are you quite sure?" one felt that things were in the balance. I +could not help looking at The Pilot with intense anxiety. What +would he answer? The Pilot gazed out of the window upon the hills +for a few moments. How long the silence seemed! Then, turning, +looked into the eyes that searched his so steadily and answered +simply: + +"Yes, Gwen, I am quite sure!" Then, with quick inspiration, he got +her mother's Bible and said: "Now, Gwen, try to see it as I read." +But, before he read, with the true artist's instinct he created the +proper atmosphere. By a few vivid words he made us feel the +pathetic loneliness of the Man of Sorrows in His last sad days. +Then he read that masterpiece of all tragic picturing, the story of +Gethsemane. And as he read we saw it all. The garden and the +trees and the sorrow-stricken Man alone with His mysterious agony. +We heard the prayer so pathetically submissive and then, for +answer, the rabble and the traitor. + +Gwen was far too quick to need explanation, and The Pilot only +said, "You see, Gwen, God gave nothing but the best--to His own Son +only the best." + +"The best? They took Him away, didn't they?" She knew the story +well. + +"Yes, but listen." He turned the leaves rapidly and read: "'We see +Jesus for the suffering of death crowned with glory and honor.' +That is how He got His Kingdom." + +Gwen listened silent but unconvinced, and then said slowly: + +"But how can this be best for me? I am no use to anyone. It can't +be best to just lie here and make them all wait on me, and--and--I +did want to help daddy--and--oh--I know they will get tired of me! +They are getting tired already--I--I--can't help being hateful." + +She was by this time sobbing as I had never heard her before--deep, +passionate sobs. Then again the Pilot had an inspiration. + +"Now, Gwen," he said severely, "you know we're not as mean as that, +and that you are just talking nonsense, every word. Now I'm going +to smooth out your red hair and tell you a story." + +"It's NOT red," she cried, between her sobs. This was her sore +point. + +"It is red, as red can be; a beautiful, shining purple RED," said +The Pilot emphatically, beginning to brush. + +"Purple!" cried Gwen, scornfully. + +"Yes, I've seen it in the sun, purple. Haven't you?" said The +Pilot, appealing to me. "And my story is about the canyon, our +canyon, your canyon, down there." + +"Is it true?" asked Gwen, already soothed by the cool, quick-moving +hands. + +"True? It's as true as--as--" he glanced round the room, "as the +Pilgrim's Progress." This was satisfactory, and the story went on. + +"At first there were no canyons, but only the broad, open prairie. +One day the Master of the Prairie, walking out over his great +lawns, where were only grasses, asked the Prairie, 'Where are your +flowers?' and the Prairie said, 'Master, I have no seeds.' Then he +spoke to the birds, and they carried seeds of every kind of flower +and strewed them far and wide, and soon the Prairie bloomed with +crocuses and roses and buffalo beans and the yellow crowfoot and +the wild sunflowers and the red lilies all the summer long. Then +the Master came and was well pleased; but he missed the flowers he +loved best of all, and he said to the Prairie: 'Where are the +clematis and the columbine, the sweet violets and wind flowers, and +all the ferns and flowering shrubs?' And again he spoke to the +birds, and again they carried all the seeds and strewed them far +and wide. But, again, when the Master came, he could not find the +flowers he loved best of all, and he said: 'Where are those, my +sweetest flowers?' and the Prairie cried sorrowfully: 'Oh, Master, +I cannot keep the flowers, for the winds sweep fiercely, and the +sun beats upon my breast, and they wither up and fly away.' Then +the Master spoke to the Lightning, and with one swift blow the +Lightning cleft the Prairie to the heart. And the Prairie rocked +and groaned in agony, and for many a day moaned bitterly over its +black, jagged, gaping wound. But the Little Swan poured its waters +through the cleft, and carried down deep black mould, and once more +the birds carried seeds and strewed them in the canyon. And after +a long time the rough rocks were decked out with soft mosses and +trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung with clematis and +columbine, and great elms lifted their huge tops high up into the +sunlight, and down about their feet clustered the low cedars and +balsams, and everywhere the violets and wind-flower and maiden-hair +grew and bloomed, till the canyon became the Masters place for rest +and peace and joy." + +The quaint tale was ended, and Gwen lay quiet for some moments, +then said gently: + +"Yes! The canyon flowers are much the best. Tell me what it +means." + +Then The Pilot read to her: "The fruits--I'll read 'flowers'-- +of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, +goodness, faith, meekness, self-control, and some of these grow +only in the canyon." + +"Which are the canyon flowers?" asked Gwen softly, and The Pilot +answered: + +"Gentleness, meekness, self-control; but though the others, love, +joy, peace, bloom in the open, yet never with so rich a bloom and +so sweet a perfume as in the canyon." + +For a long time Gwen lay quite still, and then said wistfully, +while her lip trembled: + +"There are no flowers in my canyon, but only ragged rocks." + +"Some day they will bloom, Gwen dear; He will find them, and we, +too, shall see them." + +Then he said good-by and took me away. He had done his work that +day. + +We rode through the big gate, down the sloping hill, past the +smiling, twinkling little lake, and down again out of the broad +sunshine into the shadows and soft lights of the canyon. As we +followed the trail that wound among the elms and cedars, the very +air was full of gentle stillness; and as we moved we seemed to feel +the touch of loving hands that lingered while they left us, and +every flower and tree and vine and shrub and the soft mosses and +the deep-bedded ferns whispered, as we passed, of love and peace +and joy. + +To The Duke it was all a wonder, for as the days shortened outside +they brightened inside; and every day, and more and more Gwen's +room became the brightest spot in all the house, and when he asked +The Pilot: + +"What did you do to the Little Princess, and what's all this about +the canyon and its flowers?" The Pilot said, looking wistfully +into The Duke's eyes: + +"The fruits of the Spirit are love, peace, long-suffering, +gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, self-control, and some of +these are found only in the canyon," and The Duke, standing up +straight, handsome and strong, looked back at The Pilot and said, +putting out his hand: + +"Do you know, I believe you're right." + +"Yes, I'm quite sure," answered The Pilot, simply. Then, holding +The Duke's hand as long as one man dare hold another's, he added: +"When you come to your canyon, remember." + +"When I come!" said The Duke, and a quick spasm of pain passed over +his handsome face--"God help me, it's not too far away now." Then +he smiled again his old, sweet smile, and said: + +"Yes, you are all right, for, of all flowers I have seen, none are +fairer or sweeter than those that are waving in Gwen's Canyon." + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BILL'S BLUFF + + +The Pilot had set his heart upon the building of a church in the +Swan Creek district, partly because he was human and wished to set +a mark of remembrance upon the country, but more because he held +the sensible opinion, that a congregation, as a man, must have a +home if it is to stay. + +All through the summer he kept setting this as an object at once +desirable and possible to achieve. But few were found to agree +with him. + +Little Mrs. Muir was of the few, and she was not to be despised, +but her influence was neutralized by the solid immobility of her +husband. He had never done anything sudden in his life. Every +resolve was the result of a long process of mind, and every act of +importance had to be previewed from all possible points. An honest +man, strongly religious, and a great admirer of The Pilot, but +slow-moving as a glacier, although with plenty of fire in him deep +down. + +"He's soond at the hairt, ma man Robbie," his wife said to The +Pilot, who was fuming and fretting at the blocking of his plans, +"but he's terrible deleeberate. Bide ye a bit, laddie. He'll come +tae." + +"But meantime the summer's going and nothing will be done," was The +Pilot's distressed and impatient answer. + +So a meeting was called to discuss the question of building a +church, with the result that the five men and three women present +decided that for the present nothing could be done. This was +really Robbie's opinion, though he refused to do or say anything +but grunt, as The Pilot said to me afterwards, in a rage. It is +true, Williams, the storekeeper just come from "across the line," +did all the talking, but no one paid much attention to his fluent +fatuities except as they represented the unexpressed mind of the +dour, exasperating little Scotchman, who sat silent but for an "ay" +now and then, so expressive and conclusive that everyone knew what +he meant, and that discussion was at an end. The schoolhouse was +quite sufficient for the present; the people were too few and too +poor and they were getting on well under the leadership of their +present minister. These were the arguments which Robbie's "ay" +stamped as quite unanswerable. + +It was a sore blow to The Pilot, who had set his heart upon a +church, and neither Mrs; Muir's "hoots" at her husband's slowness +nor her promises that she "wad mak him hear it" could bring comfort +or relieve his gloom. + +In this state of mind he rode up with me to pay our weekly visit to +the little girl shut up in her lonely house among the hills. + +It had become The Pilot's custom during these weeks to turn for +cheer to that little room, and seldom was he disappointed. She was +so bright, so brave, so cheery, and so full of fun, that gloom +faded from her presence as mist before the sun, and impatience was +shamed into content. + +Gwen's bright face--it was almost always bright now--and her bright +welcome did something for The Pilot, but the feeling of failure was +upon him, and failure to his enthusiastic nature was worse than +pain. Not that he confessed either to failure or gloom; he was far +too true a man for that; but Gwen felt his depression in spite of +all his brave attempts at brightness, and insisted that he was ill, +appealing to me. + +"Oh, it's only his church," I said, proceeding to give her an +account of Robbie Muir's silent, solid inertness, and how he had +blocked The Pilot's scheme. + +"What a shame!" cried Gwen, indignantly. "What a bad man he must +be!" + +The Pilot smiled. "No, indeed," he answered; "why, he's the best +man in the place, but I wish he would say or do something. If he +would only get mad and swear I think I should feel happier." + +Gwen looked quite mystified. + +"You see, he sits there in solemn silence looking so tremendously +wise that most men feel foolish if they speak, while as for doing +anything the idea appears preposterous, in the face of his +immovableness." + +"I can't bear him!" cried Gwen. "I should like to stick pins in +him." + +"I wish some one would," answered The Pilot. "It would make him +seem more human if he could be made to jump." + +"Try again," said Gwen, "and get someone to make him jump." + +"It would be easier to build the church," said The Pilot, gloomily. + +"I could make him jump," said Gwen, viciously, "and I WILL," she +added, after a pause. + +"You!" answered The Pilot, opening his eyes. "How?" + +"I'll find some way," she replied, resolutely. + +And so she did, for when the next meeting was called to consult as +to the building of a church, the congregation, chiefly of farmers +and their wives, with Williams, the storekeeper, were greatly +surprised to see Bronco Bill, Hi, and half a dozen ranchers and +cowboys walk in at intervals and solemnly seat themselves. Robbie +looked at them with surprise and a little suspicion. In church +matters he had no dealings with the Samaritans from the hills, and +while, in their unregenerate condition, they might be regarded as +suitable objects of missionary effort, as to their having any part +in the direction, much less control, of the church policy--from +such a notion Robbie was delivered by his loyal adherence to the +scriptural injunction that he should not cast pearls before swine. + +The Pilot, though surprised to see Bill and the cattle men, was +none the less delighted, and faced the meeting with more confidence. +He stated the question for discussion: Should a church building be +erected this summer in Swan Creek? and he put his case well. He +showed the need of a church for the sake of the congregation, for +the sake of the men in the district, the families growing up, the +incoming settlers, and for the sake of the country and its future. +He called upon all who loved their church and their country to unite +in this effort. It was an enthusiastic appeal and all the women and +some of the men were at once upon his side. + +Then followed dead, solemn silence. Robbie was content to wait +till the effect of the speech should be dissipated in smaller talk. +Then he gravely said: + +"The kirk wad be a gran' thing, nae doot, an' they wad a' +dootless"--with a suspicious glance toward Bill--"rejoice in its +erection. But we maun be cautious, an' I wad like to enquire hoo +much money a kirk cud be built for, and whaur the money wad come +frae?" + +The Pilot was ready with his answer. The cost would be $1,200. +The Church Building Fund would contribute $200, the people could +give $300 in labor, and the remaining $700 he thought could be +raised in the district in two years' time. + +"Ay," said Robbie, and the tone and manner were sufficient to +drench any enthusiasm with the chilliest of water. So much was +this the case that the chairman, Williams, seemed quite justified +in saying: + +"It is quite evident that the opinion of the meeting is adverse to +any attempt to load the community with a debt of one thousand +dollars," and he proceeded with a very complete statement of the +many and various objections to any attempt at building a church +this year. The people were very few, they were dispersed over a +large area, they were not interested sufficiently, they were all +spending money and making little in return; he supposed, therefore, +that the meeting might adjourn. + +Robbie sat silent and expressionless in spite of his little wife's +anxious whispers and nudges. The Pilot looked the picture of woe, +and was on the point of bursting forth, when the meeting was +startled by Bill. + +"Say, boys! they hain't much stuck on their shop, heh?" The low, +drawling voice was perfectly distinct and arresting. + +"Hain't got no use for it, seemingly," was the answer from the dark +corner. + +"Old Scotchie takes his religion out in prayin', I guess," drawled +in Bill, "but wants to sponge for his plant." + +This reference to Robbie's proposal to use the school moved the +youngsters to tittering and made the little Scotchman squirm, for +he prided himself upon his independence. + +"There ain't $700 in the hull blanked outfit." This was a +stranger's voice, and again Robbie squirmed, for he rather prided +himself also on his ability to pay his way. + +"No good!" said another emphatic voice. "A blanked lot o' psalm- +singing snipes." + +"Order, order!" cried the chairman. + +"Old Windbag there don't see any show for swipin' the collection, +with Scotchie round," said Hi, with a following ripple of quiet +laughter, for Williams' reputation was none too secure. + +Robbie was in a most uncomfortable state of mind. So unusually +stirred was he that for the first time in his history he made a +motion. + +"I move we adjourn, Mr. Chairman," he said, in a voice which +actually vibrated with emotion. + +"Different here! eh, boys?" drawled Bill. + +"You bet," said Hi, in huge delight. "The meetin' ain't out yit." + +"Ye can bide till mor-r-nin'," said Robbie, angrily. "A'm gaen +hame," beginning to put on his coat. + +"Seems as if he orter give the password," drawled Bill. + +"Right you are, pardner," said Hi, springing to the door and +waiting in delighted expectation for his friend's lead. + +Robbie looked at the door, then at his wife, hesitated a moment, I +have no doubt wishing her home. Then Bill stood up and began to +speak. + +"Mr. Chairman, I hain't been called on for any remarks--" + +"Go on!" yelled his friends from the dark corner. "Hear! hear!" + +"An' I didn't feel as if this war hardly my game, though The Pilot +ain't mean about invitin' a feller on Sunday afternoons. But them +as runs the shop don't seem to want us fellers round too much." + +Robbie was gazing keenly at Bill, and here shook his head, +muttering angrily: "Hoots, nonsense! ye're welcome eneuch." + +"But," went on Bill, slowly, "I guess I've been on the wrong track. +I've been a-cherishin' the opinion" ["Hear! hear!" yelled his +admirers], "cherishin' the opinion," repeated Bill, "that these +fellers," pointing to Robbie, "was stuck on religion, which I ain't +much myself, and reely consarned about the blocking ov the devil, +which The Pilot says can't be did without a regular Gospel factory. +O' course, it tain't any biznis ov mine, but if us fellers was +reely only sot on anything condoocin'," ["Hear! hear!" yelled Hi, +in ecstasy], "condoocin'," repeated Bill slowly and with relish, +"to the good ov the Order" (Bill was a brotherhood man), "I b'lieve +I know whar five hundred dollars mebbe cud per'aps be got." + +"You bet your sox," yelled the strange voice, in chorus with other +shouts of approval. + +"O' course, I ain't no bettin' man," went on Bill, insinuatingly, +"as a regular thing, but I'd gamble a few jist here on this pint; +if the boys was stuck on anythin' costin' about seven hundred +dollars, it seems to me likely they'd git it in about two days, +per'aps." + +Here Robbie grunted out an "ay" of such fulness of contemptuous +unbelief that Bill paused, and, looking over Robbie's head, he +drawled out, even more slowly and mildly: + +"I ain't much given to bettin', as I remarked before, but, if a man +shakes money at me on that proposition, I'd accommodate him to a +limited extent." ["Hear! hear! Bully boy!" yelled Hi again, from +the door.] "Not bein' too bold, I cherish the opinion" [again +yells of approval from the corner], "that even for this here Gospel +plant, seein' The Pilot's rather sot onto it, I b'lieve the boys +could find five hundred dollars inside ov a month, if perhaps these +fellers cud wiggle the rest out ov their pants." + +Then Robbie was in great wrath and, stung by the taunting, drawling +voice beyond all self-command, he broke out suddenly: + +"Ye'll no can mak that guid, I doot." + +"D'ye mean I ain't prepared to back it up?" + +"Ay," said Robbie, grimly. + +'Tain't likely I'll be called on; I guess $500 is safe enough," +drawled Bill, cunningly drawing him on. Then Robbie bit. + +"Oo ay!" said he, in a voice of quiet contempt, "the twa hunner +wull be here and 'twull wait ye long eneuch, I'se warrant ye." + +Then Bill nailed him. + +"I hain't got my card case on my person," he said, with a slight +grin. + +"Left it on the pianner," suggested Hi, who was in a state of great +hilarity at Bill's success in drawing the Scottie. + +"But," Bill proceeded, recovering himself, and with increasing +suavity, "if some gentleman would mark down the date of the almanac +I cherish the opinion" [cheers from the corner] "that in one month +from to-day there will be five hundred dollars lookin' round for +two hundred on that there desk mebbe, or p'raps you would incline +to two fifty," he drawled, in his most winning tone to Robbie, who +was growing more impatient every moment. + +"Nae matter tae me. Ye're haverin' like a daft loon, ony way." + +"You will make a memento of this slight transaction, boys, and +per'aps the schoolmaster will write it down," said Bill. + +It was all carefully taken down, and amid much enthusiastic +confusion the ranchers and their gang carried Bill off to Old +Latour's to "licker up," while Robbie, in deep wrath but in dour +silence, went off through the dark with his little wife following +some paces behind him. His chief grievance, however, was against +the chairman for "allooin' sic a disorderly pack o' loons tae +disturb respectable fowk," for he could not hide the fact that he +had been made to break through his accustomed defence line of +immovable silence. I suggested, conversing with him next day upon +the matter, that Bill was probably only chaffing. + +"Ay," said Robbie, in great disgust, "the daft eejut, he wad mak a +fule o' onything or onybuddie." + +That was the sorest point with poor Robbie. Bill had not only cast +doubts upon his religious sincerity, which the little man could not +endure, but he had also held him up to the ridicule of the +community, which was painful to his pride. But when he understood, +some days later, that Bill was taking steps to back up his offer +and had been heard to declare that "he'd make them pious ducks take +water if he had to put up a year's pay," Robbie went quietly to +work to make good his part of the bargain. For his Scotch pride +would not suffer him to refuse a challenge from such a quarter. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +BILL'S PARTNER + + +The next day everyone was talking of Bill's bluffing the church +people, and there was much quiet chuckling over the discomfiture of +Robbie Muir and his party. + +The Pilot was equally distressed and bewildered, for Bill's +conduct, so very unusual, had only one explanation--the usual one +for any folly in that country. + +"I wish he had waited till after the meeting to go to Latour's. He +spoiled the last chance I had. There's no use now," he said, +sadly. + +"But he may do something," I suggested. + +"Oh, fiddle!" said The Pilot, contemptuously. "He was only giving +Muir 'a song and dance,' as he would say. The whole thing is off." + +But when I told Gwen the story of the night's proceedings, she went +into raptures over Bill's grave speech and his success in drawing +the canny Scotchman. + +"Oh, lovely! dear old Bill and his 'cherished opinion.' Isn't he +just lovely? Now he'll do something." + +"Who, Bill?" + +"No, that stupid Scottie." This was her name for the immovable +Robbie. + +"Not he, I'm afraid. Of course Bill was just bluffing him. But it +was good sport." + +"Oh, lovely! I knew he'd do something." + +"Who? Scottie?" I asked, for her pronouns were perplexing. + +"No!" she cried, "Bill! He promised he would, you know," she +added. + +"So you were at the bottom of it?" I said, amazed. + +"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she kept crying, shrieking with laughter over +Bill's cherishing opinions and desires. "I shall be ill. Dear old +Bill. He said he'd 'try to get a move on to him.'" + +Before I left that day, Bill himself came to the Old Timer's ranch, +inquiring in a casual way "if the 'boss' was in." + +"Oh, Bill!" called out Gwen, "come in here at once; I want you." + +After some delay and some shuffling with hat and spurs, Bill +lounged in and set his lank form upon the extreme end of a bench at +the door, trying to look unconcerned as he remarked: "Gittin' cold. +Shouldn't wonder if we'd have a little snow." + +"Oh, come here," cried Gwen, impatiently, holding out her hand. +"Come here and shake hands." + +Bill hesitated, spat out into the other room his quid of tobacco, +and swayed awkwardly across the room toward the bed, and, taking +Gwen's hand, he shook it up and down, and hurriedly said: + +"Fine day, ma'am; hope I see you quite well." + +"No; you don't," cried Gwen, laughing immoderately, but keeping +hold of Bill's hand, to his great confusion. "I'm not well a bit, +but I'm a great deal better since hearing of your meeting, Bill." + +To this Bill made no reply, being entirely engrossed in getting his +hard, bony, brown hand out of the grasp of the white, clinging +fingers. + +"Oh, Bill," went on Gwen, "it was delightful! How did you do it?" + +But Bill, who had by this time got back to his seat at the door, +pretended ignorance of any achievement calling for remark. He +"hadn't done nothin' more out ov the way than usual." + +"Oh, don't talk nonsense!" cried Gwen, impatiently. "Tell me how +you got Scottie to lay you two hundred and fifty dollars." + +"Oh, that!" said Bill, in great surprise; "that ain't nuthin' much. +Scottie riz slick enough." + +"But how did you get him?" persisted Gwen. "Tell me, Bill," she +added, in her most coaxing voice. + +"Well," said Bill, "it was easy as rollin' off a log. I made the +remark as how the boys ginerally put up for what they wanted +without no fuss, and that if they was sot on havin' a Gospel shack +I cherished the opinion"--here Gwen went off into a smothered +shriek, which made Bill pause and look at her in alarm. + +"Go on," she gasped. + +"I cherished the opinion," drawled on Bill, while Gwen stuck her +handkerchief into her mouth, "that mebbe they'd put up for it the +seven hundred dollars, and, even as it was, seein' as The Pilot +appeared to be sot on to it, if them fellers would find two hundred +and fifty I cher--" another shriek from Gwen cut him suddenly +short. + +"It's the rheumaticks, mebbe," said Bill, anxiously. "Terrible bad +weather for 'em. I get 'em myself." + +"No, no," said Gwen, wiping away her tears and subduing her +laughter. "Go on, Bill." + +"There ain't no more," said Bill. "He bit, and the master here put +it down." + +"Yes, it's here right enough," I said, "but I don't suppose you +mean to follow it up, do you?" + +"You don't, eh? Well, I am not responsible for your supposin', but +them that is familiar with Bronco Bill generally expects him to +back up his undertakin's." + +"But how in the world can you get five hundred dollars from the +cowboys for a church?" + +"I hain't done the arithmetic yet, but it's safe enough. You see, +it ain't the church altogether, it's the reputation of the boys." + +"I'll help, Bill," said Gwen. + +Bill nodded his head slowly and said: "Proud to have you," trying +hard to look enthusiastic. + +"You don't think I can," said Gwen. Bill protested against such an +imputation. "But I can. I'll get daddy and The Duke, too." + +"Good line!" said Bill, slapping his knee. + +"And I'll give all my money, too, but it isn't very much," she +added, sadly. + +"Much!" said Bill, "if the rest of the fellows play up to that lead +there won't be any trouble about that five hundred." + +Gwen was silent for some time, then said with an air of resolve: + +"I'll give my pinto!" + +"Nonsense!" I exclaimed, while Bill declared "there warn't no +call." + +"Yes. I'll give the Pinto!" said Gwen, decidedly. "I'll not need +him any more," her lips quivered, and Bill coughed and spat into +the next room, "and besides, I want to give something I like. And +Bill will sell him for me!" + +"Well," said Bill, slowly, "now come to think, it'll be purty hard +to sell that there pinto." Gwen began to exclaim indignantly, and +Bill hurried on to say, "Not but what he ain't a good leetle horse +for his weight, good leetle horse, but for cattle--" + +"Why, Bill, there isn't a better cattle horse anywhere!" + +"Yes, that's so," assented Bill. "That's so, if you've got the +rider, but put one of them rangers on to him and it wouldn't be no +fair show." Bill was growing more convinced every moment that the +pinto wouldn't sell to any advantage. "Ye see," he explained +carefully and cunningly, "he ain't a horse you could yank round and +slam into a bunch of steers regardless." + +Gwen shuddered. "Oh, I wouldn't think of selling him to any of +those cowboys." Bill crossed his legs and hitched round +uncomfortably on his bench. "I mean one of those rough fellows +that don't know how to treat a horse." Bill nodded, looking +relieved. "I thought that some one like you, Bill, who knew how to +handle a horse--" + +Gwen paused, and then added: "I'll ask The Duke." + +"No call for that," said Bill, hastily, "not but what The Dook +ain't all right as a jedge of a horse, but The Dook ain't got the +connection, it ain't his line." Bill hesitated. "But, if you are +real sot on to sellin' that pinto, come to think I guess I could +find a sale for him, though, of course, I think perhaps the figger +won't be high." + +And so it was arranged that the pinto should be sold and that Bill +should have the selling of it. + +It was characteristic of Gwen that she would not take farewell of +the pony on whose back she had spent so many hours of freedom and +delight. When once she gave him up she refused to allow her heart +to cling to him any more. + +It was characteristic, too, of Bill that he led off the pinto after +night had fallen, so that "his pardner" might be saved the pain of +the parting. + +"This here's rather a new game for me, but when my pardner," here +he jerked his head towards Gwen's window, "calls for trumps, I'm +blanked if I don't throw my highest, if it costs a leg." + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +BILL'S FINANCING + + +Bill's method of conducting the sale of the pinto was eminently +successful as a financial operation, but there are those in the +Swan Creek country who have never been able to fathom the mystery +attaching to the affair. It was at the fall round-up, the beef +round-up, as it is called, which this year ended at the Ashley +Ranch. There were representatives from all the ranches and some +cattle-men from across the line. The hospitality of the Ashley +Ranch was up to its own lofty standard, and, after supper, the men +were in a state of high exhilaration. The Hon. Fred and his wife, +Lady Charlotte, gave themselves to the duties of their position as +hosts for the day with a heartiness and grace beyond praise. After +supper the men gathered round the big fire, which was piled up +before the long, low shed, which stood open in front. It was a +scene of such wild and picturesque interest as can only be +witnessed in the western ranching country. About the fire, most of +them wearing "shaps" and all of them wide, hard-brimmed cowboy +hats, the men grouped themselves, some reclining upon skins thrown +upon the ground, some standing, some sitting, smoking, laughing, +chatting, all in highest spirits and humor. They had just got +through with their season of arduous and, at times, dangerous toil. +Their minds were full of their long, hard rides, their wild and +varying experiences with mad cattle and bucking broncos, their +anxious watchings through hot nights, when a breath of wind or a +coyote's howl might set the herd off in a frantic stampede, their +wolf hunts and badger fights and all the marvellous adventures that +fill up a cowboy's summer. Now these were all behind them. +To-night they were free men and of independent means, for their +season's pay was in their pockets. The day's excitement, too, was +still in their blood, and they were ready for anything. + +Bill, as king of the bronco-busters, moved about with the slow, +careless indifference of a man sure of his position and sure of his +ability to maintain it. + +He spoke seldom and slowly, was not as ready-witted as his partner, +Hi Kendal, but in act he was swift and sure, and "in trouble" he +could be counted on. He was, as they said, "a white man; white to +the back," which was understood to sum up the true cattle man's +virtues. + +"Hello, Bill," said a friend, "where's Hi? Hain't seen him +around!" + +"Well, don't jest know. He was going to bring up my pinto." + +"Your pinto? What pinto's that? You hain't got no pinto!" + +"Mebbe not," said Bill, slowly, "but I had the idee before you +spoke that I had." + +"That so? Whar'd ye git him? Good for cattle?" The crowd began +to gather. + +Bill grew mysterious, and even more than usually reserved. + +"Good fer cattle! Well, I ain't much on gamblin', but I've got a +leetle in my pants that says that there pinto kin outwork any +blanked bronco in this outfit, givin' him a fair show after the +cattle." + +The men became interested. + +"Whar was he raised?" + +"Dunno." + +"Whar'd ye git him? Across the line?" + +"No," said Bill stoutly, "right in this here country. The Dook +there knows him." + +This at once raised the pinto several points. To be known, and, +as Bill's tone indicated, favorably known by The Duke, was a +testimonial to which any horse might aspire. + +"Whar'd ye git him, Bill? Don't be so blanked oncommunicatin'!" +said an impatient voice. + +Bill hesitated; then, with an apparent burst of confidence, he +assumed his frankest manner and voice, and told his tale. + +"Well," he said, taking a fresh chew and offering his plug to his +neighbor, who passed it on after helping himself, "ye see, it was +like this. Ye know that little Meredith gel?" + +Chorus of answers: "Yes! The red-headed one. I know! She's a +daisy!--reg'lar blizzard!--lightnin' conductor!" + +Bill paused, stiffened himself a little, dropped his frank air and +drawled out in cool, hard tones: "I might remark that that young +lady is, I might persoom to say, a friend of mine, which I'm +prepared to back up in my best style, and if any blanked blanked +son of a street sweeper has any remark to make, here's his time +now!" + +In the pause that followed murmurs were heard extolling the many +excellences of the young lady in question, and Bill, appeased, +yielded to the requests for the continuance of his story, and, as +he described Gwen and her pinto and her work on the ranch, the men, +many of whom had had glimpses of her, gave emphatic approval in +their own way. But as he told of her rescue of Joe and of the +sudden calamity that had befallen her a great stillness fell upon +the simple, tender-hearted fellows, and they listened with their +eyes shining in the firelight with growing intentness. Then Bill +spoke of The Pilot and how he stood by her and helped her and +cheered her till they began to swear he was "all right"; "and now," +concluded Bill, "when The Pilot is in a hole she wants to help him +out." + +"O' course," said one. "Right enough. How's she going to work +it?" said another. + +"Well, he's dead set on to buildin' a meetin'-house, and them +fellows down at the Creek that does the prayin' and such don't seem +to back him up!" + +"Whar's the kick, Bill?" + +"Oh, they don't want to go down into their clothes and put up for +it." + +"How much?" + +"Why, he only asked 'em for seven hundred the hull outfit, and +would give 'em two years, but they bucked--wouldn't look at it." + +[Chorus of expletives descriptive of the characters and personal +appearance and belongings of the congregation of Swan Creek.] + +"Were you there, Bill? What did you do?" + +"Oh," said Bill, modestly, "I didn't do much. Gave 'em a little +bluff." + +"No! How? What? Go on, Bill." + +But Bill remained silent, till under strong pressure, and, as if +making a clean breast of everything, he said: + +"Well, I jest told 'em that if you boys made such a fuss about +anythin' like they did about their Gospel outfit, an' I ain't +sayin' anythin' agin it, you'd put up seven hundred without turnin' +a hair." + +"You're the stuff, Bill! Good man! You're talkin' now! What did +they say to that, eh, Bill?" + +"Well," said Bill, slowly, "they CALLED me!" + +"No! That so? An' what did you do, Bill?" + +"Gave 'em a dead straight bluff!" + +[Yells of enthusiastic approval.] + +"Did they take you, Bill?" + +"Well, I reckon they did. The master, here, put it down." + +Whereupon I read the terms of Bill's bluff. + +There was a chorus of very hearty approvals of Bill's course in +"not taking any water" from that variously characterized "outfit." +But the responsibility of the situation began to dawn upon them +when some one asked: + +"How are you going about it, Bill?" + +"Well," drawled Bill, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, +"there's that pinto." + +"Pinto be blanked!" said young Hill. "Say, boys, is that little +girl going to lose that one pony of hers to help out her friend The +Pilot? Good fellow, too, he is! We know he's the right sort." + +[Chorus of, "Not by a long sight; not much; we'll put up the stuff! +Pinto!"] + +"Then," went on Bill, even more slowly, "there's The Pilot; he's +going for to ante up a month's pay; 'taint much, o' course--twenty- +eight a month and grub himself. He might make it two," he added, +thoughtfully. But Bill's proposal was scorned with contemptuous +groans. "Twenty-eight a month and grub himself o' course ain't +much for a man to save money out ov to eddicate himself." Bill +continued, as if thinking aloud, "O' course he's got his mother at +home, but she can't make much more than her own livin', but she +might help him some." + +This was altogether too much for the crowd. They consigned Bill +and his plans to unutterable depths of woe. + +"O' course," Bill explained, "it's jest as you boys feel about it. +Mebbe I was, bein' hot, a little swift in givin' 'em the bluff." + +"Not much, you wasn't! We'll see you out! That's the talk! +There's between twenty and thirty of us here." + +"I should be glad to contribute thirty or forty if need be," said +The Duke, who was standing not far off, "to assist in the building +of a church. It would be a good thing, and I think the parson +should be encouraged. He's the right sort." + +"I'll cover your thirty," said young Hill; and so it went from one +to another in tens and fifteens and twenties, till within half an +hour I had entered three hundred and fifty dollars in my book, with +Ashley yet to hear from, which meant fifty more. It was Bill's +hour of triumph. + +"Boys," he said, with solemn emphasis, "ye're all white. But that +leetle pale-faced gel, that's what I'm thinkin' on. Won't she open +them big eyes ov hers! I cherish the opinion that this'll tickle +her some." + +The men were greatly pleased with Bill and even more pleased with +themselves. Bill's picture of the "leetle gel" and her pathetically +tragic lot had gone right to their hearts and, with men of that +stamp, it was one of their few luxuries to yield to their generous +impulses. The most of them had few opportunities of lavishing love +and sympathy upon worthy objects and, when the opportunity came, all +that was best in them clamored for expression. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HOW THE PINTO SOLD + + +The glow of virtuous feeling following the performance of their +generous act prepared the men for a keener enjoyment than usual of +a night's sport. They had just begun to dispose themselves in +groups about the fire for poker and other games when Hi rode up +into the light and with him a stranger on Gwen's beautiful pinto +pony. + +Hi was evidently half drunk and, as he swung himself of his bronco, +he saluted the company with a wave of the hand and hoped he saw +them "kickin'." + +Bill, looking curiously at Hi, went up to the pinto and, taking him +by the head, led him up into the light, saying: + +"See here, boys, there's that pinto of mine I was telling you +about; no flies on him, eh?" + +"Hold on there! Excuse me!" said the stranger, "this here hoss +belongs to me, if paid-down money means anything in this country." + +"The country's all right," said Bill in an ominously quiet voice, +"but this here pinto's another transaction, I reckon." + +"The hoss is mine, I say, and what's more, I'm goin' to hold him," +said the stranger in a loud voice. + +The men began to crowd around with faces growing hard. It was +dangerous in that country to play fast and loose with horses. + +"Look a-hyar, mates," said the stranger, with a Yankee drawl, "I +ain't no hoss thief, and if I hain't bought this hoss reg'lar and +paid down good money then it ain't mine--if I have it is. That's +fair, ain't it?" + +At this Hi pulled himself together, and in a half-drunken tone +declared that the stranger was all right, and that he had bought +the horse fair and square, and "there's your dust," said Hi, +handing a roll to Bill. But with a quick movement Bill caught the +stranger by the leg, and, before a word could be said, he was lying +flat on the ground. + +"You git off that pony," said Bill, "till this thing is settled." + +There was something so terrible in Bill's manner that the man +contented himself with blustering and swearing, while Bill, turning +to Hi, said: + +"Did you sell this pinto to him?" + +Hi was able to acknowledge that, being offered a good price, and +knowing that his partner was always ready for a deal, he had +transferred the pinto to the stranger for forty dollars. + +Bill was in distress, deep and poignant. "'Taint the horse, but +the leetle gel," he explained; but his partner's bargain was his, +and wrathful as he was, he refused to attempt to break the bargain. + +At this moment the Hon. Fred, noting the unusual excitement about +the fire, came up, followed at a little distance by his wife and +The Duke. + +"Perhaps he'll sell," he suggested. + +"No," said Bill sullenly, "he's a mean cuss." + +"I know him," said the Hon. Fred, "let me try him." But the +stranger declared the pinto suited him down to the ground and he +wouldn't take twice his money for him. + +"Why," he protested, "that there's what I call an unusual hoss, and +down in Montana for a lady he'd fetch up to a hundred and fifty +dollars." In vain they haggled and bargained; the man was +immovable. Eighty dollars he wouldn't look at, a hundred hardly +made him hesitate. At this point Lady Charlotte came down into the +light and stood by her husband, who explained the circumstances to +her. She had already heard Bill's description of Gwen's accident +and of her part in the church-building schemes. There was silence +for a few moments as she stood looking at the beautiful pony. + +"What a shame the poor child should have to part with the dear +little creature!" she said in a low tone to her husband. Then, +turning to the stranger, she said in clear, sweet tones: + +"What do you ask for him?" He hesitated and then said, lifting his +hat awkwardly in salute: "I was just remarking how that pinto would +fetch one hundred and fifty dollars down into Montana. But seein' +as a lady is enquirin', I'll put him down to one hundred and +twenty-five." + +"Too much," she said promptly, "far too much, is it not, Bill?" + +"Well," drawled Bill, "if 'twere a fellar as was used to ladies +he'd offer you the pinto, but he's too pizen mean even to come down +to the even hundred." + +The Yankee took him up quickly. "Wall, if I were so blanked-- +pardon, madam"--taking off his hat, "used to ladies as some folks +would like to think themselves, I'd buy that there pinto and make a +present of it to this here lady as stands before me." Bill twisted +uneasily. + +"But I ain't goin' to be mean; I'll put that pinto in for the even +money for the lady if any man cares to put up the stuff." + +"Well, my dear," said the Hon. Fred with a bow, "we cannot well let +that gage lie." She turned and smiled at him and the pinto was +transferred to the Ashley stables, to Bill's outspoken delight, who +declared he "couldn't have faced the music if that there pinto had +gone across the line." I confess, however, I was somewhat +surprised at the ease with which Hi escaped his wrath, and my +surprise was in no way lessened when I saw, later in the evening, +the two partners with the stranger taking a quiet drink out of the +same bottle with evident mutual admiration and delight. + +"You're an A1 corker, you are! I'll be blanked if you ain't a +bird--a singin' bird--a reg'lar canary," I heard Hi say to Bill. + +But Bill's only reply was a long, slow wink which passed into a +frown as he caught my eye. My suspicion was aroused that the sale +of the pinto might bear investigation, and this suspicion was +deepened when Gwen next week gave me a rapturous account of how +splendidly Bill had disposed of the pinto, showing me bills for one +hundred and fifty dollars! To my look of amazement, Gwen replied: + +"You see, he must have got them bidding against each other, and +besides, Bill says pintos are going up." + +Light began to dawn upon me, but I only answered that I knew they +had risen very considerably in value within a month. The extra +fifty was Bill's. + +I was not present to witness the finishing of Bill's bluff, but was +told that when Bill made his way through the crowded aisle and laid +his five hundred and fifty dollars on the schoolhouse desk the look +of disgust, surprise and finally of pleasure on Robbie's face, was +worth a hundred more. But Robbie was ready and put down his two +hundred with the single remark: + +"Ay! ye're no as daft as ye look," mid roars of laughter from all. + +Then The Pilot, with eyes and face shining, rose and thanked them +all; but when he told of how the little girl in her lonely shack in +the hills thought so much of the church that she gave up for it her +beloved pony, her one possession, the light from his eyes glowed in +the eyes of all. + +But the men from the ranches who could understand the full meaning +of her sacrifice and who also could realize the full measure of her +calamity, were stirred to their hearts' depths, so that when Bill +remarked in a very distinct undertone, "I cherish the opinion that +this here Gospel shop wouldn't be materializin' into its present +shape but for that leetle gel," there rose growls of approval in a +variety of tones and expletives that left no doubt that his opinion +was that of all. + +But though The Pilot never could quite get at the true inwardness +of Bill's measures and methods, and was doubtless all the more +comfortable in mind for that, he had no doubt that while Gwen's +influence was the moving spring of action, Bill's bluff had a good +deal to do with the "materializin'" of the first church in Swan +Creek, and in this conviction, I share. + +Whether the Hon. Fred ever understood the peculiar style of Bill's +financing, I do not quite know. But if he ever did come to know, +he was far too much of a man to make a fuss. Besides, I fancy the +smile on his lady's face was worth some large amount to him. At +least, so the look of proud and fond love in his eyes seemed to say +as he turned away with her from the fire the night of the pinto's +sale. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LADY CHARLOTTE + + +The night of the pinto's sale was a night momentous to Gwen, for +then it was that the Lady Charlotte's interest in her began. +Momentous, too, to the Lady Charlotte, for it was that night that +brought The Pilot into her life. + +I had turned back to the fire around which the men had fallen into +groups prepared to have an hour's solid delight, for the scene was +full of wild and picturesque beauty to me, when The Duke came and +touched me on the shoulder. + +"Lady Charlotte would like to see you." + +"And why, pray?" + +"She wants to hear about this affair of Bill's." + +We went through the kitchen into the large dining-room, at one end +of which was a stone chimney and fireplace. Lady Charlotte had +declared that she did not much care what kind of a house the Hon. +Fred would build for her, but that she must have a fireplace. + +She was very beautiful--tall, slight and graceful in every line. +There was a reserve and a grand air in her bearing that put people +in awe of her. This awe I shared; but as I entered the room she +welcomed me with such kindly grace that I felt quite at ease in a +moment. + +"Come and sit by me," she said, drawing an armchair into the circle +about the fire. "I want you to tell us all about a great many +things." + +"You see what you're in for, Connor," said her husband. "It is a +serious business when my lady takes one in hand." + +"As he knows to his cost," she said, smiling and shaking her head +at her husband. + +"So I can testify," put in The Duke. + +"Ah! I can't do anything with you," she replied, turning to him. + +"Your most abject slave," he replied with a profound bow. + +"If you only were," smiling at him--a little sadly, I thought--"I'd +keep you out of all sorts of mischief." + +"Quite true, Duke," said her husband, "just look at me." + +The Duke gazed at him a moment or two. "Wonderful!" he murmured, +"what a deliverance!" + +"Nonsense!" broke in Lady Charlotte. "You are turning my mind away +from my purpose." + +"Is it possible, do you think?" said The Duke to her husband. + +"Not in the very least," he replied, "if my experience goes for +anything." + +But Lady Charlotte turned her back upon them and said to me: + +"Now, tell me first about Bill's encounter with that funny little +Scotchman." + +Then I told her the story of Bill's bluff in my best style, +imitating, as I have some small skill in doing, the manner and +speech of the various actors in the scene. She was greatly amused +and interested. + +"And Bill has really got his share ready," she cried. "It is very +clever of him." + +"Yes," I replied, "but Bill is only the very humble instrument, the +moving spirit is behind." + +"Oh, yes, you mean the little girl that owns the pony," she said. +"That's another thing you must tell me about." + +"The Duke knows more than I," I replied, shifting the burden to +him; "my acquaintance is only of yesterday; his is lifelong." + +"Why have you never told me of her?" she demanded, turning to the +Duke. + +"Haven't I told you of the little Meredith girl? Surely I have," +said The Duke, hesitatingly. + +"Now, you know quite well you have not, and that means you are +deeply interested. Oh, I know you well," she said, severely. + +"He is the most secretive man," she went on to me, "shamefully and +ungratefully reserved." + +The Duke smiled; then said, lazily: "Why, she's just a child. Why +should you be interested in her? No one was," he added sadly, +"till misfortune distinguished her." + +Her eyes grew soft, and her gay manner changed, and she said to The +Duke gently: "Tell me of her now." + +It was evidently an effort, but he began his story of Gwen from +the time he saw her first, years ago, playing in and out of her +father's rambling shack, shy and wild as a young fox. As he went +on with his tale, his voice dropped into a low, musical tone, and +he seemed as if dreaming aloud. Unconsciously he put into the tale +much of himself, revealing how great an influence the little child +had had upon him, and how empty of love his life had been in this +lonely land. Lady Charlotte listened with face intent upon him, +and even her bluff husband was conscious that something more than +usual was happening. He had never heard The Duke break through his +proud reserve before. + +But when The Duke told the story of Gwen's awful fall, which he did +with great graphic power, a little red spot burned upon the Lady +Charlotte's pale cheek, and, as The Duke finished his tale with the +words, "It was her last ride," she covered her face with her hands +and cried: + +"Oh, Duke, it is horrible to think of! But what splendid courage!" + +"Great stuff! eh, Duke?" cried the Hon. Fred, kicking a burning log +vigorously. + +But The Duke made no reply. + +"How is she now, Duke?" said Lady Charlotte. The Duke looked up as +from a dream. "Bright as the morning," he said. Then, in reply to +Lady Charlotte's look of wonder, he added: + +"The Pilot did it. Connor will tell you. I don't understand it." + +"Nor do I, either. But I can tell you only what I saw and heard," +I answered. + +"Tell me," said Lady Charlotte very gently. + +Then I told her how, one by one, we had failed to help her, and how +The Pilot had ridden up that morning through the canyon, and how he +had brought the first light and peace to her by his marvellous +pictures of the flowers and ferns and trees and all the wonderful +mysteries of that wonderful canyon. + +"But that wasn't all," said the Duke quickly, as I stopped. + +"No," I said slowly, "that was NOT all by a long way; but the rest +I don't understand. That's The Pilot's secret." + +"Tell me what he did," said Lady Charlotte, softly, once more. "I +want to know." + +"I don't think I can," I replied. "He simply read out of the +Scriptures to her and talked." + +Lady Charlotte looked disappointed. + +"Is that all?" she said. + +"It is quite enough for Gwen," said The Duke confidently, "for +there she lies, often suffering, always longing for the hills and +the free air, but with her face radiant as the flowers of the +beloved canyon." + +"I must see her," said Lady Charlotte, "and that wonderful Pilot." + +"You'll be disappointed in him," said The Duke. + +"Oh, I've see him and heard him, but I don't know him," she +replied. "There must be something in him that one does not see +at first." + +"So I have discovered," said The Duke, and with that the subject +was dropped, but not before the Lady Charlotte made me promise to +take her to Gwen, The Duke being strangely unwilling to do this for +her. + +"You'll be disappointed," he said. "She is only a simple little +child." + +But Lady Charlotte thought differently, and, having made up her +mind upon the matter, there was nothing for it, as her husband +said, but "for all hands to surrender and the sooner the better." + +And so the Lady Charlotte had her way, which, as it turned out, was +much the wisest and best. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THROUGH GWEN'S WINDOW + + +When I told The Pilot of Lady Charlotte's purpose to visit Gwen, he +was not too well pleased. + +"What does she want with Gwen?" he said impatiently. "She will +just put notions into her head and make the child discontented." + +"Why should she?" said I. + +"She won't mean to, but she belongs to another world, and Gwen +cannot talk to her without getting glimpses of a life that will +make her long for what she can never have," said The Pilot. + +"But suppose it is not idle curiosity in Lady Charlotte," I +suggested. + +"I don't say it is quite that," he answered, "but these people love +a sensation." + +"I don't think you know Lady Charlotte," I replied. "I hardly +think from her tone the other night that she is a sensation +hunter." + +"At any rate," he answered, decidedly, "she is not to worry poor +Gwen." + +I was a little surprised at his attitude, and felt that he was +unfair to Lady Charlotte, but I forbore to argue with him on the +matter. He could not bear to think of any person or thing +threatening the peace of his beloved Gwen. + +The very first Saturday after my promise was given we were +surprised to see Lady Charlotte ride up to the door of our shack +in the early morning. + +"You see, I am not going to let you off," she said, as I greeted +her. "And the day is so very fine for a ride." + +I hastened to apologize for not going to her, and then to get out +of my difficulty, rather meanly turned toward The Pilot, and said: + +"The Pilot doesn't approve of our visit." + +"And why not, may I ask?" said Lady Charlotte, lifting her eyebrows. + +The Pilot's face burned, partly with wrath at me, and partly with +embarrassment; for Lady Charlotte had put on her grand air. But he +stood to his guns. + +"I was saying, Lady Charlotte," he said, looking straight into her +eyes, "that you and Gwen have little in common--and--and--" he +hesitated. + +"Little in common!" said Lady Charlotte quietly. "She has suffered +greatly." + +The Pilot was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice. + +"Yes," he said, wondering at her tone, "she has suffered greatly." + +"And," continued Lady Charlotte, "she is bright as the morning, The +Duke says." There was a look of pain in her face. + +The Pilot's face lit up, and he came nearer and laid his hand +caressingly upon her beautiful horse. + +"Yes, thank God!" he said quickly, "bright as the morning." + +"How can that be?" she asked, looking down into his face. "Perhaps +she would tell me." + +"Lady Charlotte," said The Pilot with a sudden flush, "I must ask +your pardon. I was wrong. I thought you--" he paused; "but go to +Gwen, she will tell you, and you will do her good." + +"Thank you," said Lady Charlotte, putting out her hand, "and +perhaps you will come and see me, too." + +The Pilot promised and stood looking after us as we rode up the +trail. + +"There is something more in your Pilot than at first appears," she +said. "The Duke was quite right." + +"He is a great man," I said with enthusiasm; "tender as a woman and +with the heart of a hero." + +"You and Bill and The Duke seem to agree about him," she said, +smiling. + +Then I told her tales of The Pilot, and of his ways with the men, +till her blue eyes grew bright and her beautiful face lost its +proud look. + +"It is perfectly amazing," I said, finishing my story, "how these +devil-may-care rough fellows respect him, and come to him in all +sorts of trouble. I can't understand it, and yet he is just a +boy." + +"No, not amazing," said Lady Charlotte slowly. "I think I +understand it. He has a true man's heart; and holds a great +purpose in it. I've seen men like that. Not clergymen, I mean, +but men with a great purpose." + +Then, after a moment's thought, she added: "But you ought to care +for him better. He does not look strong." + +"Strong!" I exclaimed quickly, with a queer feeling of resentment +at my heart. "He can do as much riding as any of us." + +"Still," she replied, "there's something in his face that would +make his mother anxious." In spite of my repudiation of her +suggestion, I found myself for the next few minutes thinking of how +he would come exhausted and faint from his long rides, and I +resolved that he must have a rest and change. + +It was one of those early September days, the best of all in the +western country, when the light falls less fiercely through a soft +haze that seems to fill the air about you, and that grows into +purple on the far hilltops. By the time we reached the canyon the +sun was riding high and pouring its rays full into all the deep +nooks where the shadows mostly lay. + +There were no shadows to-day, except such as the trees cast upon +the green moss beds and the black rocks. The tops of the tall elms +were sere and rusty, but the leaves of the rugged oaks that fringed +the canyon's lips shone a rich and glossy brown. All down the +sides the poplars and delicate birches, pale yellow, but sometimes +flushing into orange and red, stood shimmering in the golden light, +while here and there the broad-spreading, feathery sumachs made +great splashes of brilliant crimson upon the yellow and gold. Down +in the bottom stood the cedars and the balsams, still green. We +stood some moments silently gazing into this tangle of interlacing +boughs and shimmering leaves, all glowing in yellow light, then +Lady Charlotte broke the silence in tones soft and reverent as if +she stood in a great cathedral. + +"And this is Gwen's canyon!" + +"Yes, but she never sees it now," I said, for I could never ride +through without thinking of the child to whose heart this was so +dear, but whose eyes never rested upon it. Lady Charlotte made no +reply, and we took the trail that wound down into this maze of +mingling colors and lights and shadows. Everywhere lay the fallen +leaves, brown and yellow and gold;--everywhere on our trail, on the +green mosses and among the dead ferns. And as we rode, leaves +fluttered down from the trees above silently through the tangled +boughs, and lay with the others on moss and rock and beaten trail. + +The flowers were all gone; but the Little Swan sang as ever its +many-voiced song, as it flowed in pools and eddies and cascades, +with here and there a golden leaf upon its black waters. Ah! how +often in weary, dusty days these sights and sounds and silences +have come to me and brought my heart rest! + +As we began to climb up into the open, I glanced at my companion's +face. The canyon had done its work with her as with all who loved +it. The touch of pride that was the habit of her face was gone, +and in its place rested the earnest wonder of a little child, while +in her eyes lay the canyon's tender glow. And with this face she +looked in upon Gwen. + +And Gwen, who had been waiting for her, forgot all her nervous +fear, and with hands outstretched, cried out in welcome: + +"Oh, I'm so glad! You've seen it and I know you love it! My +canyon, you know!" she went on, answering Lady Charlotte's +mystified look. + +"Yes, dear child," said Lady Charlotte, bending over the pale face +with its halo of golden hair, "I love it." But she could get no +further, for her eyes were full of tears. Gwen gazed up into the +beautiful face, wondering at her silence, and then said gently: + +"Tell me how it looks to-day! The Pilot always shows it to me. Do +you know," she added, thoughtfully, "The Pilot looks like it +himself. He makes me think of it, and--and--" she went on shyly, +"you do, too." + +By this time Lady Charlotte was kneeling by the couch, smoothing +the beautiful hair and gently touching the face so pale and lined +with pain. + +"That is a great honor, truly," she said brightly through her +tears--"to be like your canyon and like your Pilot, too." + +Gwen nodded, but she was not to be denied. + +"Tell me how it looks to-day," she said. "I want to see it. Oh, I +want to see it!" + +Lady Charlotte was greatly moved by the yearning in the voice, but, +controlling herself, she said gaily: + +"Oh, I can't show it to you as your Pilot can, but I'll tell you +what I saw." + +"Turn me where I can see," said Gwen to me, and I wheeled her +toward the window and raised her up so that she could look down the +trail toward the canyon's mouth. + +"Now," she said, after the pain of the lifting had passed, "tell +me, please." + +Then Lady Charlotte set the canyon before her in rich and radiant +coloring, while Gwen listened, gazing down upon the trail to where +the elm tops could be seen, rusty and sere. + +"Oh, it is lovely!" said Gwen, "and I see it so well. It is all +there before me when I look through my window." + +But Lady Charlotte looked at her, wondering to see her bright +smile, and at last she could not help the question: + +"But don't you weary to see it with your own eyes?" + +"Yes," said Gwen gently, "often I want and want it, oh, so much!" + +"And then, Gwen, dear, how can you bear it?" Her voice was eager +and earnest. "Tell me, Gwen. I have heard all about your canyon +flowers, but I can't understand how the fretting and the pain went +away." + +Gwen looked at her first in amazement, and then in dawning +understanding. + +"Have you a canyon, too?" she asked, gravely. + +Lady Charlotte paused a moment, then nodded. It did appear strange +to me that she should break down her proud reserve and open her +heart to this child. + +"And there are no flowers, Gwen, not one," she said rather bitterly, +"nor sun nor seeds nor soil, I fear." + +"Oh, if The Pilot were here, he would tell you." + +At this point, feeling that they would rather be alone, I excused +myself on the pretext of looking after the horses. + +What they talked of during the next hour I never knew, but when I +returned to the room Lady Charlotte was reading slowly and with +perplexed face to Gwen out of her mother's Bible the words "for the +suffering of death, crowned with glory and honor." + +"You see even for Him, suffering," Gwen said eagerly, "but I can't +explain. The Pilot will make it clear." Then the talk ended. + +We had lunch with Gwen--bannocks and fresh sweet milk and +blueberries--and after an hour of gay fun we came away. + +Lady Charlotte kissed her tenderly as she bade Gwen good-by. + +"You must let me come again and sit at your window," she said, +smiling down upon the wan face. + +"Oh, I shall watch for you. How good that will be!" cried Gwen, +delightedly. "How many come to see me! You make five." Then she +added, softly: "You will write your letter." But Lady Charlotte +shook her head. + +"I can't do that, I fear," she said, "but I shall think of it." + +It was a bright face that looked out upon us through the open +window as we rode down the trail. Just before we took the dip into +the canyon, I turned to wave my hand. + +"Gwen's friends always wave from here," I said, wheeling my bronco. + +Again and again Lady Charlotte waved her handkerchief. + +"How beautiful, but how wonderful!" she said as if to herself. +"Truly, HER canyon is full of flowers." + +"It is quite beyond me," I answered. "The Pilot may explain." + +"Is there anything your Pilot can't do?" said Lady Charlotte. + +"Try him," I ventured. + +"I mean to," she replied, "but I cannot bring anyone to my canyon, +I fear," she added in an uncertain voice. + +As I left her at her door she thanked me with courteous grace. + +"You have done a great deal for me," she said, giving me her hand. +"It has been a beautiful, a wonderful day." + +When I told the Pilot all the day's doings, he burst out: + +"What a stupid and self-righteous fool I have been! I never +thought there could be any canyon in her life. How short our sight +is!" and all that night I could get almost no words from him. + +That was the first of many visits to Gwen. Not a week passed but +Lady Charlotte took the trail to the Meredith ranch and spent an +hour at Gwen's window. Often The Pilot found her there. But +though they were always pleasant hours to him, he would come home +in great trouble about Lady Charlotte. + +"She is perfectly charming and doing Gwen no end of good, but she +is proud as an archangel. Has had an awful break with her family +at home, and it is spoiling her life. She told me so much, but she +will allow no one to touch the affair." + +But one day we met her riding toward the village. As we drew near, +she drew up her horse and held up a letter. + +"Home!" she said. "I wrote it to-day, and I must get it off +immediately." + +The Pilot understood her at once, but he only said: + +"Good!" but with such emphasis that we both laughed. + +"Yes, I hope so," she said with the red beginning to show in her +cheek. "I have dropped some seed into my canyon." + +"I think I see the flowers beginning to spring," said The Pilot. + +She shook her head doubtfully and replied: + +"I shall ride up and sit with Gwen at her window." + +"Do," replied The Pilot, "the light is good there. Wonderful +things are to be seen through Gwen's window." + +"Yes," said Lady Charlotte softly. "Dear Gwen!--but I fear it is +often made bright with tears." + +As she spoke she wheeled her horse and cantered off, for her own +tears were not far away. I followed her in thought up the trail +winding through the round-topped hills and down through the golden +lights of the canyon and into Gwen's room. I could see the pale +face, with its golden aureole, light up and glow, as they sat +before the window while Lady Charlotte would tell her how Gwen's +Canyon looked to-day and how in her own bleak canyon there was the +sign of flowers. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +HOW BILL FAVORED "HOME-GROWN INDUSTRIES" + + +The building of the Swan Creek Church made a sensation in the +country, and all the more that Bronco Bill was in command. + +"When I put up money I stay with the game," he announced; and stay +he did, to the great benefit of the work and to the delight of The +Pilot, who was wearing his life out in trying to do several men's +work. It was Bill that organized the gangs for hauling stone for +the foundation and logs for the walls. It was Bill that assigned +the various jobs to those volunteering service. To Robbie Muir and +two stalwart Glengarry men from the Ottawa lumber region, who knew +all about the broadaxe, he gave the hewing down of the logs that +formed the walls. And when they had done, Bill declared they were +"better 'an a sawmill." It was Bill, too, that did the financing, +and his passage with Williams, the storekeeper from "the other +side" who dealt in lumber and building material, was such as +established forever Bill's reputation in finance. + +With The Pilot's plans in his hands he went to Williams, seizing a +time when the store was full of men after their mail matter. + +"What do you think ov them plans?" he asked innocently. + +Williams was voluble with opinions and criticism and suggestions, +all of which were gratefully, even humbly received. + +"Kind ov hard to figger out jest how much lumber 'll go into the +shack," said Bill; "ye see the logs makes a difference." + +To Williams the thing was simplicity itself, and, after some +figuring, he handed Bill a complete statement of the amount of +lumber of all kinds that would be required. + +"Now, what would that there come to?" + +Williams named his figure, and then Bill entered upon negotiations. + +"I aint no man to beat down prices. No, sir, I say give a man his +figger. Of course, this here aint my funeral; besides, bein' a +Gospel shop, the price naterally would be different." To this the +boys all assented and Williams looked uncomfortable. + +"In fact," and Bill adopted his public tone to Hi's admiration and +joy, "this here's a public institooshun" (this was Williams' own +thunder), "condoocin' to the good of the community" (Hi slapped his +thigh and squirted half way across the store to signify his entire +approval, "and I cherish the opinion"--(delighted chuckle from Hi)-- +"that public men are interested in this concern." + +"That's so! Right you are!" chorused the boys gravely. + +Williams agreed, but declared he had thought of all this in making +his calculation. But seeing it was a church, and the first church +and their own church, he would make a cut, which he did after more +figuring. Bill gravely took the slip of paper and put it into his +pocket without a word. By the end of the week, having in the +meantime ridden into town and interviewed the dealers there, Bill +sauntered into the store and took up his position remote from +Williams. + +"You'll be wanting that sheeting, won't you, next week, Bill?" said +Williams. + +"What sheetin' 's that?" + +"Why, for the church. Aint the logs up?" + +"Yes, that's so. I was just goin' to see the boys here about +gettin' it hauled," said Bill. + +"Hauled!" said Williams, in amazed indignation. "Aint you goin' to +stick to your deal?" + +"I generally make it my custom to stick to my deals," said Bill, +looking straight at Williams. + +"Well, what about your deal with me last Monday night?" said +Williams, angrily. + +"Let's see. Last Monday night," said Bill, apparently thinking +back; "can't say as I remember any pertickler deal. Any ov you +fellers remember?" + +No one could recall any deal. + +"You don't remember getting any paper from me, I suppose?" said +Williams, sarcastically. + +"Paper! Why, I believe I've got that there paper onto my person at +this present moment," said Bill, diving into his pocket and drawing +out Williams' estimate. He spent a few moments in careful +scrutiny. + +"There ain't no deal onto this as I can see," said Bill, gravely +passing the paper to the boys, who each scrutinized it and passed +it on with a shake of the head or a remark as to the absence of any +sign of a deal. Williams changed his tone. For his part, he was +indifferent in the matter. + +Then Bill made him an offer. + +"Ov course, I believe in supportin' home-grown industries, and if +you can touch my figger I'd be uncommonly glad to give you the +contract." + +But Bill's figure, which was quite fifty per cent. lower than +Williams' best offer, was rejected as quite impossible. + +"Thought I'd make you the offer," said Bill, carelessly, "seein' as +you're institootin' the trade and the boys here 'll all be buildin' +more or less, and I believe in standin' up for local trades and +manufactures." There were nods of approval on all sides, and +Williams was forced to accept, for Bill began arranging with the +Hill brothers and Hi to make an early start on Monday. It was a +great triumph, but Bill displayed no sign of elation; he was rather +full of sympathy for Williams, and eager to help on the lumber +business as a local "institooshun." + +Second in command in the church building enterprise stood Lady +Charlotte, and under her labored the Hon. Fred, The Duke, and, +indeed, all the company of the Noble Seven. Her home became the +centre of a new type of social life. With exquisite tact, and much +was needed for this kind of work, she drew the bachelors from their +lonely shacks and from their wild carousals, and gave them a taste +of the joys of a pure home-life, the first they had had since +leaving the old homes years ago. And then she made them work for +the church with such zeal and diligence that her husband and The +Duke declared that ranching had become quite an incidental interest +since the church-building had begun. But The Pilot went about with +a radiant look on his pale face, while Bill gave it forth as his +opinion, "though she was a leetle high in the action, she could hit +an uncommon gait." + +With such energy did Bill push the work of construction that by the +first of December the church stood roofed, sheeted, floored and +ready for windows, doors and ceiling, so that The Pilot began to +hope that he should see the desire of his heart fulfilled--the +church of Swan Creek open for divine service on Christmas Day. + +During these weeks there was more than church-building going on, +for while the days were given to the shaping of logs, and the +driving of nails and the planing of boards, the long winter +evenings were spent in talk around the fire in my shack, where The +Pilot for some months past had made his home and where Bill, since +the beginning of the church building, had come "to camp." Those +were great nights for The Pilot and Bill, and, indeed, for me, too, +and the other boys, who, after a day's work on the church, were +always brought in by Bill or The Pilot. + +Great nights for us all they were. After bacon and beans and +bannocks, and occasionally potatoes, and rarely a pudding, with +coffee, rich and steaming, to wash all down, pipes would follow, +and then yarns of adventures, possible and impossible, all exciting +and wonderful, and all received with the greatest credulity. + +If, however, the powers of belief were put to too great a strain by +a tale of more than ordinary marvel, Bill would follow with one of +such utter impossibility that the company would feel that the limit +had been reached, and the yarns would cease. But after the first +week most of the time was given to The Pilot, who would read to us +of the deeds of the mighty men of old, who had made and wrecked +empires. + +What happy nights they were to those cowboys, who had been cast up +like driftwood upon this strange and lonely shore! Some of them +had never known what it was to have a thought beyond the work and +sport of the day. And the world into which The Pilot was ushering +them was all new and wonderful to them. Happy nights, without a +care, but that The Pilot would not get the ghastly look out of his +face, and laughed at the idea of going away till the church was +built. And, indeed, we would all have sorely missed him, and so he +stayed. + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +HOW BILL HIT THE TRAIL + + +When "the crowd" was with us The Pilot read us all sorts of tales +of adventures in all lands by heroes of all ages, but when we three +sat together by our fire The Pilot would always read us tales of +the heroes of sacred story, and these delighted Bill more than +those of any of the ancient empires of the past. He had his +favorites. Abraham, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, never failed to arouse +his admiration. But Jacob was to him always "a mean cuss," and +David he could not appreciate. Most of all he admired Moses and +the Apostle Paul, whom he called "that little chap." But, when the +reading was about the One Great Man that moved majestic amid the +gospel stories, Bill made no comments; He was too high for +approval. + +By and by Bill began to tell these tales to the boys, and one +night, when a quiet mood had fallen upon the company, Bill broke +the silence. + +"Say, Pilot, where was it that the little chap got mixed up into +that riot?" + +"Riot!" said The Pilot. + +"Yes; you remember when he stood off the whole gang from the +stairs?" + +"Oh, yes, at Jerusalem!" + +"Yes, that's the spot. Perhaps you would read that to the boys. +Good yarn! Little chap, you know, stood up and told 'em they were +all sorts of blanked thieves and cut-throats, and stood 'em off. +Played it alone, too." + +Most of the boys failed to recognize the story in its new dress. +There was much interest. + +"Who was the duck? Who was the gang? What was the row about?" + +"The Pilot here'll tell you. If you'd kind o' give 'em a lead +before you begin, they'd catch on to the yarn better." This last +to The Pilot, who was preparing to read. + +"Well, it was at Jerusalem," began The Pilot, when Bill interrupted: + +"If I might remark, perhaps it might help the boys on to the trail +mebbe, if you'd tell 'em how the little chap struck his new gait." +So he designated the Apostle's conversion. + +Then The Pilot introduced the Apostle with some formality to the +company, describing with such vivid touches his life and early +training, his sudden wrench from all he held dear, under the stress +of a new conviction, his magnificent enthusiasm and courage, his +tenderness and patience, that I was surprised to find myself +regarding him as a sort of hero, and the boys were all ready to +back him against any odds. As The Pilot read the story of the +Arrest at Jerusalem, stopping now and then to picture the scene, we +saw it all and were in the thick of it. The raging crowd hustling +and beating the life out of the brave little man, the sudden thrust +of the disciplined Roman guard through the mass, the rescue, the +pause on the stairway, the calm face of the little hero beckoning +for a hearing, the quieting of the frantic, frothing mob, the +fearless speech--all passed before us. The boys were thrilled. + +"Good stuff, eh?" + +"Ain't he a daisy?" + +"Daisy! He's a whole sunflower patch!" + +"Yes," drawled Bill, highly appreciating their marks of approval. +"That's what I call a partickler fine character of a man. There +ain't no manner of insecks on to him." + +"You bet!" said Hi. + +"I say," broke in one of the boys, who was just emerging from the +tenderfoot stage, "o' course that's in the Bible, ain't it?" + +The Pilot assented. + +"Well, how do you know it's true?" + +The Pilot was proceeding to elaborate his argument when Bill cut in +somewhat more abruptly than was his wont. + +"Look here, young feller!" Bill's voice was in the tone of +command. The man looked as he was bid. "How do you know +anything's true? How do you know The Pilot here's true when he +speaks? Can't you tell by the feel? You know by the sound of his +voice, don't you?" Bill paused and the young fellow agreed +readily. + +"Well how do you know a blanked son of a she jackass when you see +him?" Again Bill paused. There was no reply. + +"Well," said Bill, resuming his deliberate drawl. "I'll give you +the information without extra charge. It's by the sound he makes +when he opens his blanked jaw." + +"But," went on the young skeptic, nettled at the laugh that went +round, "that don't prove anything. You know," turning to The +Pilot, "that there are heaps of people who don't believe the +Bible." + +The Pilot nodded. + +"Some of the smartest, best-educated men are agnostics," proceeded +the young man, warming to his theme, and failing to notice the +stiffening of Bill's lank figure. "I don't know but what I am one +myself." + +"That so?" said Bill, with sudden interest. + +"I guess so," was the modest reply. + +"Got it bad?" went on Bill, with a note of anxiety in his tone. + +But the young man turned to The Pilot and tried to open a fresh +argument. + +"Whatever he's got," said Bill to the others, in a mild voice, +"it's spoilin' his manners." + +"Yes," went on Bill, meditatively, after the slight laugh had died, +"it's ruinin' to the judgment. He don't seem to know when he +interferes with the game. Pity, too." + +Still the argument went on. + +"Seems as if he ought to take somethin'," said Bill, in a voice +suspiciously mild. "What would you suggest?" + +"A walk, mebbe!" said Hi, in delighted expectation. + +"I hold the opinion that you have mentioned an uncommonly vallable +remedy, better'n Pain Killer almost." + +Bill rose languidly. + +"I say," he drawled, tapping the young fellow, "it appears to me a +little walk would perhaps be good, mebbe." + +"All right, wait till I get my cap," was the unsuspecting reply. + +"I don't think perhaps you won't need it, mebbe. I cherish the +opinion you'll, perhaps, be warm enough." Bill's voice had +unconsciously passed into a sterner tone. Hi was on his feet and +at the door. + +"This here interview is private AND confidential," said Bill to his +partner. + +"Exactly," said Hi, opening the door. At this the young fellow, +who was a strapping six-footer, but soft and flabby, drew back and +refused to go. He was too late. Bill's grip was on his collar and +out they went into the snow, and behind them Hi closed the door. +In vain the young fellow struggled to wrench himself free from the +hands that had him by the shoulder and the back of the neck. I +took it all in from the window. He might have been a boy for all +the effect his plungings had upon the long, sinewy arms that +gripped him so fiercely. After a minute's furious struggle the +young fellow stood quiet, when Bill suddenly shifted his grip from +the shoulder to the seat of his buckskin trousers. Then began a +series of evolutions before the house--up and down, forward and +back, which the unfortunate victim, with hands wildly clutching at +empty air, was quite powerless to resist till he was brought up +panting and gasping, subdued, to a standstill. + +"I'll larn you agnostics and several other kinds of ticks," said +Bill, in a terrible voice, his drawl lengthening perceptibly. +"Come round here, will you, and shove your blanked second-handed +trash down our throats?" Bill paused to get words; then, bursting +out in rising wrath: + +"There ain't no sootable words for sich conduct. By the livin' +Jeminy--" He suddenly swung his prisoner off his feet, lifted him +bodily, and held him over his head at arm's length. "I've a notion +to--" + +"Don't! don't! for Heaven's sake!" cried the struggling wretch, +"I'll stop it! I will!" + +Bill at once lowered him and set him on his feet. + +"All right! Shake!" he said, holding out his hand, which the other +took with caution. + +It was a remarkably sudden conversion and lasting in its effects. +There was no more agnosticism in the little group that gathered +around The Pilot for the nightly reading. + +The interest in the reading kept growing night by night. + +"Seems as if The Pilot was gittin' in his work," said Bill to me; +and looking at the grave, eager faces, I agreed. He was getting in +his work with Bill, too; though perhaps Bill did not know it. I +remember one night, when the others had gone, The Pilot was reading +to us the Parable of the Talents, Bill was particularly interested +in the servant who failed in his duty. + +"Ornery cuss, eh?" he remarked; "and gall, too, eh? Served him +blamed well right, in my opinion!" + +But when the practical bearing of the parable became clear to him, +after long silence, he said, slowly: + +"Well, that there seems to indicate that it's about time for +me to get a rustle on." Then, after another silence, he said, +hesitatingly, "This here church-buildin' business now, do you think +that'll perhaps count, mebbe? I guess not, eh? 'Tain't much, o' +course, anyway." Poor Bill, he was like a child, and The Pilot +handled him with a mother's touch. + +"What are you best at, Bill?" + +"Bronco-bustin' and cattle," said Bill, wonderingly; "that's my +line." + +"Well, Bill, my line is preaching just now, and piloting, you +know." The Pilot's smile was like a sunbeam on a rainy day, for +there were tears in his eyes and voice. "And we have just got to +be faithful. You see what he says: 'Well done, good and FAITHFUL +servant. Thou hast been FAITHFUL.'" + +Bill was puzzled. + +"Faithful!" he repeated. "Does that mean with the cattle, perhaps?" + +"Yes, that's just it, Bill, and with everything else that comes +your way." + +And Bill never forgot that lesson, for I heard him, with a kind of +quiet enthusiasm, giving it to Hi as a great find. "Now, I call +that a fair deal," he said to his friend; "gives every man a show. +No cards up the sleeve." + +"That's so," was Hi's thoughtful reply; "distributes the trumps." + +Somehow Bill came to be regarded as an authority upon questions +of religion and morals. No one ever accused him of "gettin' +religion." He went about his work in his slow, quiet way, but he +was always sharing his discoveries with "the boys." And if anyone +puzzled him with subtleties he never rested till he had him face to +face with The Pilot. And so it came that these two drew to each +other with more than brotherly affection. When Bill got into +difficulty with problems that have vexed the souls of men far wiser +than he, The Pilot would either disentangle the knots or would turn +his mind to the verities that stood out sure and clear, and Bill +would be content. + +"That's good enough for me," he would say, and his heart would be +at rest. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +HOW THE SWAN CREEK CHURCH WAS OPENED + + +When, near the end of the year, The Pilot fell sick, Bill nursed +him like a mother and sent him off for a rest and change to Gwen, +forbidding him to return till the church was finished and visiting +him twice a week. The love between the two was most beautiful, +and, when I find my heart grow hard and unbelieving in men and +things, I let my mind wander back to a scene that I came upon in +front of Gwen's house. These two were standing alone in the clear +moonlight, Bill with his hand upon The Pilot's shoulder, and The +Pilot with his arm around Bill's neck. + +"Dear old Bill," The Pilot was saying, "dear old Bill," and the +voice was breaking into a sob. And Bill, standing stiff and +straight, looked up at the stars, coughed and swallowed hard for +some moments, and said, in a queer, croaky voice: + +"Shouldn't wonder if a Chinook would blow up." + +"Chinook?" laughed The Pilot, with a catch in his voice. "You dear +old humbug," and he stood watching till the lank form swayed down +into the canyon. + +The day of the church opening came, as all days, however long +waited for, will come--a bright, beautiful Christmas Day. The air +was still and full of frosty light, as if arrested by a voice of +command, waiting the word to move. The hills lay under their +dazzling coverlets, asleep. Back of all, the great peaks lifted +majestic heads out of the dark forests and gazed with calm, +steadfast faces upon the white, sunlit world. To-day, as the light +filled up the cracks that wrinkled their hard faces, they seemed to +smile, as if the Christmas joy had somehow moved something in their +old, stony hearts. + +The people were all there--farmers, ranchers, cowboys, wives and +children--all happy, all proud of their new church, and now all +expectant, waiting for The Pilot and the Old Timer, who were to +drive down if The Pilot was fit and were to bring Gwen if the day +was fine. As the time passed on, Bill, as master of ceremonies, +began to grow uneasy. Then Indian Joe appeared and handed a note +to Bill. He read it, grew gray in the face and passed it to me. +Looking, I saw in poor, wavering lines the words, "Dear Bill. Go +on with the opening. Sing the Psalm, you know the one, and say a +prayer, and oh, come to me quick, Bill. Your Pilot." + +Bill gradually pulled himself together, announced in a strange +voice, "The Pilot can't come," handed me the Psalm, and said: + +"Make them sing." + +It was that grand Psalm for all hill peoples, "I to the hills will +lift mine eyes," and with wondering faces they sang the strong, +steadying words. After the Psalm was over the people sat and +waited, Bill looked at the Hon. Fred Ashley, then at Robbie Muir, +then said to me in a low voice: + +"Kin you make a prayer?" + +I shook my head, ashamed as I did so of my cowardice. + +Again Bill paused, then said: + +"The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer. Kin anyone make one?" + +Again dead, solemn silence. + +Then Hi, who was near the back, said, coming to his partner's help: + +"What's the matter with you trying, yourself, Bill?" + +The red began to come up in Bill's white face. + +"'Taint in my line. But The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer, +and I'm going to stay with the game." Then, leaning on the pulpit, +he said: + +"Let's pray," and began: + +"God Almighty, I ain't no good at this, and perhaps you'll +understand if I don't put things right." Then a pause followed, +during which I heard some of the women beginning to sob. + +"What I want to say," Bill went on, "is, we're mighty glad about +this church, which we know it's you and The Pilot that's worked it. +And we're all glad to chip in." + +Then again he paused, and, looking up, I saw his hard, gray face +working and two tears stealing down his cheeks. Then he started +again: + +"But about The Pilot--I don't want to persoom--but if you don't +mind, we'd like to have him stay--in fact, don't see how we kin do +without him--look at all the boys here; he's just getting his work +in and is bringin' 'em right along, and, God Almighty, if you take +him away it might be a good thing for himself, but for us--oh, +God," the voice quivered and was silent "Amen." + +Then someone, I think it must have been the Lady Charlotte, began: +"Our Father," and all joined that could join, to the end. For a +few moments Bill stood up, looking at them silently. Then, as if +remembering his duty, he said: + +"This here church is open. Excuse me." + +He stood at the door, gave a word of direction to Hi, who had +followed him out, and leaping on his bronco shook him out into a +hard gallop. + +The Swan Creek Church was opened. The form of service may not have +been correct, but, if great love counts for anything and appealing +faith, then all that was necessary was done. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE PILOT'S LAST PORT + + +In the old times a funeral was regarded in the Swan Creek country +as a kind of solemn festivity. In those days, for the most part, +men died in their boots and were planted with much honor and loyal +libation. There was often neither shroud nor coffin, and in the +Far West many a poor fellow lies as he fell, wrapped in his own or +his comrade's blanket. + +It was the manager of the X L Company's ranch that introduced +crape. The occasion was the funeral of one of the ranch cowboys, +killed by his bronco, but when the pall-bearers and mourners +appeared with bands and streamers of crape, this was voted by the +majority as "too gay." That circumstance alone was sufficient to +render that funeral famous, but it was remembered, too, as having +shocked the proprieties in another and more serious manner. No one +would be so narrow-minded as to object to the custom of the return +procession falling into a series of horse-races of the wildest +description, and ending up at Latour's in a general riot. But to +race with the corpse was considered bad form. The "corpse-driver," +as he was called, could hardly be blamed on this occasion. His +acknowledged place was at the head of the procession, and it was a +point of honor that that place should be retained. The fault +clearly lay with the driver of the X L ranch sleigh, containing the +mourners (an innovation, by the way), who felt aggrieved that Hi +Kendal, driving the Ashley team with the pall-bearers (another +innovation), should be given the place of honor next the corpse. +The X L driver wanted to know what, in the name of all that was +black and blue, the Ashley Ranch had to do with the funeral? Whose +was that corpse, anyway? Didn't it belong to the X L ranch? Hi, +on the other hand, contended that the corpse was in charge of the +pall-bearers. "It was their duty to see it right to the grave, and +if they were not on hand, how was it goin' to get there? They +didn't expect it would git up and get there by itself, did they? +Hi didn't want no blanked mourners foolin' round that corp till it +was properly planted; after that they might git in their work." +But the X L driver could not accept this view, and at the first +opportunity slipped past Hi and his pall-bearers and took the place +next the sleigh that carried the coffin. It is possible that Hi +might have borne with this affront and loss of position with even +mind, but the jeering remarks of the mourners as they slid past +triumphantly could not be endured, and the next moment the three +teams were abreast in a race as for dear life. The corpse-driver, +having the advantage of the beaten track, soon left the other two +behind running neck and neck for second place, which was captured +finally by Hi and maintained to the grave side, in spite of many +attempts on the part of the X L's. The whole proceeding, however, +was considered quite improper, and at Latour's, that night, after +full and bibulous discussion, it was agreed that the corpse-driver +fairly distributed the blame. "For his part," he said, "he knew he +hadn't ought to make no corp git any such move on, but he wasn't +goin' to see that there corp take second place at his own funeral. +Not if he could help it. And as for the others, he thought that +the pall-bearers had a blanked sight more to do with the plantin' +than them giddy mourners." + +But when they gathered at the Meredith ranch to carry out The Pilot +to his grave it was felt that the Foothill Country was called to a +new experience. They were all there. The men from the Porcupine +and from beyond the Fort, the Police with the Inspector in command, +all the farmers for twenty miles around, and of course all the +ranchers and cowboys of the Swan Creek country. There was no +effort at repression. There was no need, for in the cowboys, for +the first time in their experience, there was no heart for fun. +And as they rode up and hitched their horses to the fence, or drove +their sleighs into the yard and took off the bells, there was no +loud-voiced salutation, no guying nor chaffing, but with silent nod +they took their places in the crowd about the door or passed into +the kitchen. + +The men from the Porcupine could not quite understand the gloomy +silence. It was something unprecedented in a country where men +laughed all care to scorn and saluted death with a nod. But they +were quick to read signs, and with characteristic courtesy they +fell in with the mood they could not understand. There is no man +living so quick to feel your mood, and so ready to adapt himself to +it, as is the true Westerner. + +This was the day of the cowboy's grief. To the rest of the +community The Pilot was preacher; to them he was comrade and +friend. They had been slow to admit him to their confidence, but +steadily he had won his place with them, till within the last few +months they had come to count him as of themselves. He had ridden +the range with them; he had slept in their shacks and cooked his +meals on their tin stoves; and, besides, he was Bill's chum. That +alone was enough to give him a right to all they owned. He was +theirs, and they were only beginning to take full pride in him when +he passed out from them, leaving an emptiness in their life new and +unexplained. No man in that country had ever shown concern for +them, nor had it occurred to them that any man could, till The +Pilot came. It took them long to believe that the interest he +showed in them was genuine and not simply professional. Then, too, +from a preacher they had expected chiefly pity, warning, rebuke. +The Pilot astonished them by giving them respect, admiration, and +open-hearted affection. It was months before they could get over +their suspicion that he was humbugging them. When once they did, +they gave him back without knowing it all the trust and love of +their big, generous hearts. He had made this world new to some of +them, and to all had given glimpses of the next. It was no wonder +that they stood in dumb groups about the house where the man, who +had done all this for them and had been all this to them lay dead. + +There was no demonstration of grief. The Duke was in command, and +his quiet, firm voice, giving directions, helped all to self- +control. The women who were gathered in the middle room were +weeping quietly. Bill was nowhere to be seen, but near the inner +door sat Gwen in her chair, with Lady Charlotte beside her, holding +her hand. Her face, worn with long suffering, was pale, but serene +as the morning sky, and with not a trace of tears. As my eye +caught hers, she beckoned me to her. + +"Where's Bill?" she said. "Bring him in." + +I found him at the back of the house. + +"Aren't you coming in, Bill?" I said. + +"No; I guess there's plenty without me," he said, in his slow way. + +"You'd better come in; the service is going to begin," I urged. + +"Don't seem as if I cared for to hear anythin' much. I ain't much +used to preachin', anyway," said Bill, with careful indifference, +but he added to himself, "except his, of course." + +"Come in, Bill," I urged. "It will look queer, you know," but Bill +replied: + +"I guess I'll not bother," adding, after a pause: "You see, there's +them wimmin turnin' on the waterworks, and like as not they'd swamp +me sure." + +"That's so," said Hi, who was standing near, in silent sympathy +with his friend's grief. + +I reported to Gwen, who answered in her old imperious way, "Tell +him I want him." I took Bill the message. + +"Why didn't you say so before?" he said, and, starting up, he +passed into the house and took up his position behind Gwen's chair. +Opposite, and leaning against the door, stood The Duke, with a look +of quiet earnestness on his handsome face. At his side stood the +Hon. Fred Ashley, and behind him the Old Timer, looking bewildered +and woe-stricken. The Pilot had filled a large place in the old +man's life. The rest of the men stood about the room and filled +the kitchen beyond, all quiet, solemn, sad. + +In Gwen's room, the one farthest in, lay The Pilot, stately and +beautiful under the magic touch of death. And as I stood and +looked down upon the quiet face I saw why Gwen shed no tear, but +carried a look of serene triumph. She had read the face aright. +The lines of weariness that had been growing so painfully clear the +last few months were smoothed out, the look of care was gone, and +in place of weariness and care, was the proud smile of victory and +peace. He had met his foe and was surprised to find his terror +gone. + +The service was beautiful in its simplicity. The minister, The +Pilot's chief, had come out from town to take charge. He was +rather a little man, but sturdy and well set. His face was burnt +and seared with the suns and frosts he had braved for years. Still +in the prime of his manhood, his hair and beard were grizzled and +his face deep-lined, for the toils and cares of a pioneer +missionary's life are neither few nor light. But out of his kindly +blue eye looked the heart of a hero, and as he spoke to us we felt +the prophet's touch and caught a gleam of the prophet's fire. + +"I have fought the fight," he read. The ring in his voice lifted +up all our heads, and, as he pictured to us the life of that +battered hero who had written these words, I saw Bill's eyes begin +to gleam and his lank figure straighten out its lazy angles. Then +he turned the leaves quickly and read again, "Let not your heart be +troubled . . . in my father's house are many mansions." His voice +took a lower, sweeter tone; he looked over our heads, and for a few +moments spoke of the eternal hope. Then he came back to us, and, +looking round into the faces turned so eagerly to him, talked to us +of The Pilot--how at the first he had sent him to us with fear and +trembling--he was so young--but how he had come to trust in him and +to rejoice in his work, and to hope much from his life. Now it was +all over; but he felt sure his young friend had not given his life +in vain. He paused as he looked from one to the other, till his +eyes rested on Gwen's face. I was startled, as I believe he was, +too, at the smile that parted her lips, so evidently saying: "Yes, +but how much better I know than you." + +"Yes," he went on, after a pause, answering her smile, "you all +know better than I that his work among you will not pass away with +his removal, but endure while you live," and the smile on Gwen's +face grew brighter. "And now you must not grudge him his reward +and his rest . . . and his home." And Bill, nodding his head +slowly, said under his breath, "That's so." + +Then they sang that hymn of the dawning glory of Immanuel's land,-- +Lady Charlotte playing the organ and The Duke leading with clear, +steady voice verse after verse. When they came to the last verse +the minister made a sign and, while they waited, he read the words: + + + "I've wrestled on towards heaven + 'Gainst storm, and wind, and tide." + + +And so on to that last victorious cry,-- + + + "I hail the glory dawning + In Immanuel's Land." + + +For a moment it looked as if the singing could not go on, for tears +were on the minister's face and the women were beginning to sob, +but The Duke's clear, quiet voice caught up the song and steadied +them all to the end. + +After the prayer they all went in and looked at The Pilot's face +and passed out, leaving behind only those that knew him best. The +Duke and the Hon. Fred stood looking down upon the quiet face. + +"The country has lost a good man, Duke," said the Hon. Fred. The +Duke bowed silently. Then Lady Charlotte came and gazed a moment. + +"Dear Pilot," she whispered, her tears falling fast. "Dear, dear +Pilot! Thank God for you! You have done much for me." Then she +stooped and kissed him on his cold lips and on his forehead. + +Then Gwen seemed to suddenly waken as from a dream. She turned +and, looking up in a frightened way, said to Bill hurriedly: + +"I want to see him again. Carry me!" + +And Bill gathered her up in his arms and took her in. As they +looked down upon the dead face with its look of proud peace and +touched with the stateliness of death, Gwen's fear passed away. +But when The Duke made to cover the face, Gwen drew a sharp breath +and, clinging to Bill, said, with a sudden gasp: + +"Oh, Bill, I can't bear it alone. I'm afraid alone." + +She was thinking of the long, weary days of pain before her that +she must face now without The Pilot's touch and smile and voice. + +"Me, too," said Bill, thinking of the days before him. He could +have said nothing better. Gwen looked in his face a moment, then +said: + +"We'll help each other," and Bill, swallowing hard, could only nod +his head in reply. Once more they looked upon The Pilot, leaning +down and lingering over him, and then Gwen said quietly: + +"Take me away, Bill," and Bill carried her into the outer room. +Turning back I caught a look on The Duke's face so full of grief +that I could not help showing my amazement. He noticed and said: + +"The best man I ever knew, Connor. He has done something for me +too. . . . I'd give the world to die like that." + +Then he covered the face. + +We sat Gwen's window, Bill, with Gwen in his arms, and I watching. +Down the sloping, snow-covered hill wound the procession of sleighs +and horsemen, without sound of voice or jingle of bell till, one by +one, they passed out of our sight and dipped down into the canyon. +But we knew every step of the winding trail and followed them in +fancy through that fairy scene of mystic wonderland. We knew how +the great elms and the poplars and the birches clinging to the +snowy sides interlaced their bare boughs into a network of +bewildering complexity, and how the cedars and balsams and spruces +stood in the bottom, their dark boughs weighted down with heavy +white mantles of snow, and how every stump and fallen log and +rotting stick was made a thing of beauty by the snow that had +fallen so gently on them in that quiet spot. And we could see the +rocks of the canyon sides gleam out black from under overhanging +snow-banks, and we could hear the song of the Swan in its many +tones, now under an icy sheet, cooing comfortably, and then +bursting out into sunlit laughter and leaping into a foaming pool, +to glide away smoothly murmuring its delight to the white banks +that curved to kiss the dark water as it fled. And where the +flowers had been, the violets and the wind-flowers and the clematis +and the columbine and all the ferns and flowering shrubs, there lay +the snow. Everywhere the snow, pure, white, and myriad-gemmed, but +every flake a flower's shroud. + +Out where the canyon opened to the sunny, sloping prairie, there +they would lay The Pilot to sleep, within touch of the canyon he +loved, with all its sleeping things. And there he lies to this +time. But Spring has come many times to the canyon since that +winter day, and has called to the sleeping flowers, summoning them +forth in merry troops, and ever more and more till the canyon +ripples with them. And lives are like flowers. In dying they +abide not alone, but sow themselves and bloom again with each +returning spring, and ever more and more. + +For often during the following years, as here and there I came upon +one of those that companied with us in those Foothill days, I would +catch a glimpse in word and deed and look of him we called, first +in jest, but afterwards with true and tender feeling we were not +ashamed to own, our Sky Pilot. + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of The Sky Pilot by Ralph Connor + diff --git a/old/skypt10.zip b/old/skypt10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbf9ec1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/skypt10.zip |