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diff --git a/3248-h/3248-h.htm b/3248-h/3248-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2fafc60 --- /dev/null +++ b/3248-h/3248-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7263 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sky Pilot, by Ralph Connor</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sky Pilot, by Ralph Connor</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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 <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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