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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3660-h.zip b/3660-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..756a4ff --- /dev/null +++ b/3660-h.zip diff --git a/3660-h/3660-h.htm b/3660-h/3660-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5306c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/3660-h/3660-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7669 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Out of the Triangle, by Mary E. Bamford +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Triangle, by Mary E. Bamford + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Out of the Triangle + +Author: Mary E. Bamford + +Posting Date: April 29, 2009 [EBook #3660] +Release Date: January, 2003 +First Posted: July 5, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE TRIANGLE *** + + + + +Produced by Ralph Zimmermann, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +OUT OF THE TRIANGLE. +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A STORY OF THE FAR EAST. +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +MARY E. BAMFORD. +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<H4> + <A HREF="#triangle">OUT OF THE TRIANGLE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#esvidos">THE SQUASH OF THE ESVIDOS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#martin">THE VERSE MARTIN READ</A><BR> + <A HREF="#bytheway">BY THE WAY</A><BR> + <A HREF="#harriet">AT COUSIN HARRIET'S</A><BR> + <A HREF="#comale">COMALE'S REVENGE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#panaderia">AT THE PANADERIA</A><BR> + <A HREF="#stratton">MISS STRATTON'S PAPER</A><BR> + <A HREF="#honest">AN HONEST DAY'S WORK</A><BR> + <A HREF="#timoteo">TIMOTEO</A><BR> + <A HREF="#quangpo">THE VICTORY OF QUANG PO</A><BR> + <A HREF="#igloo">THE NEW IGLOO</A><BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="triangle"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +OUT OF THE TRIANGLE +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I. +</H3> + +<P> +A voice rang through one of the streets of Alexandria. +</P> + +<P> +"Sinners, away, or keep your eyes to the ground! Keep your eyes to +the ground!" +</P> + +<P> +The white-robed priestesses of Ceres, carrying a sacred basket, +walked in procession through the Alexandrian street, and as they +walked they cried aloud their warning. +</P> + +<P> +So, for four centuries, since the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, had +priestesses of Ceres walked and called aloud their admonitions +through this city; though of late years men had come to know that +what the sacred basket held was a live snake, supposed to be the +author of sin and death. +</P> + +<P> +Before the great temple of Ceres in the southeast quarter of the +city, the crier stood on the steps of the portico, and proclaimed +his invitation: "All ye who are clean of hands and pure of heart, +come to the sacrifice! All ye who are guiltless in thought and deed, +come to the sacrifice!" +</P> + +<P> +Among the passing people, the lad Heraklas shrank back. When the +sacred basket of Ceres had met him, he had bent his eyes downward, +deeming himself unworthy of the sight. And now, as the crier's +invitation rang from the portico, "All ye who are guiltless in +thought and deed, come to the sacrifice!" Heraklas trembled. +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly he hurried away and passed down the broad street that led to +the Gate of the Moon on the south of Alexandria. +</P> + +<P> +At length he reached the gate, but swiftly yet he pushed forward a +short distance along the vineyard-fringed banks of Lake Mareotis. +Heraklas lifted up his eyes, and marked how the vines by the lake's +side contrasted with the burning whiteness of the desert beyond. The +glaring sand shimmered in the heat of the flaming Egyptian sun. A +thin, vapory mist seemed to move above the heated, barren surface of +the grim sea of sand. Heraklas stretched out his hands in agony +toward the desert, and cried aloud, "O my brother, my brother +Timokles! How shall I live without thee?" +</P> + +<P> +The soft ripple of the lake beside him seemed like mockery. The +tears rolled slowly down his cheeks, as he looked toward the +pitilessly unresponsive desert of the west and southwest. Then +Heraklas, helpless in his misery, raised his hands with the palms +outward before him, after the custom of an Egyptian in prayer, and +addressed him whom the Egyptians thought the maker of the sun, the +god Phthah, "the father of the beginnings," "the first of the gods +of the upper world." +</P> + +<P> +"Hail to thee, O Ptahtanen," began Heraklas, "great god who +concealeth his form, . . thou art watching when at rest; the father +of all fathers and of all gods. . . Watcher, who traversest the +endless ages of eternity." +</P> + +<P> +The familiar words brought no comfort. Between him and the +shimmering desert came the memory of his brother's face, and +Heraklas forgot Ptahtanen, and cried out again in desperation. +</P> + +<P> +His eyes strained toward the desert. Somewhere in its depths, his +twin brother Timokles, the being whom of all on earth Heraklas most +loved, lived,—or perhaps, in the brief week that had elapsed since +he was snatched from his Alexandrian home, had died. Timokles had +forsaken the gods of his own family, the gods his own dead father +had adored, Egypt's gods. The lad would not even worship the gods of +Rome. Timokles had become one of the Christians, and had, in +consequence, been falsely accused of having, during a former +inundation, cut one of the dykes near the Nile. This offense, in the +days of Roman rule, was punishable by condemnation to labor in the +mines, or by branding and transportation to an oasis of the desert. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles, innocent of the crime charged upon him,—having been at +home in Alexandria during the time when he was accused of having +been abroad on the evil errand,—was dragged away to exile, for was +he not a Christian? Living or dead, the desert held him. The Roman +emperor, Septimius Severus, who ruled Egypt, had lately issued an +edict that no one should become a Christian. What hope was there for +Timokles? +</P> + +<P> +"He will never come back!" said Heraklas now, with a low sob, as the +desert swam before his tear-filled eyes. "O Timokles!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a rustle among the leaves not far away. Heraklas turned +hastily. +</P> + +<P> +But it was no person who disturbed his solitude. Heraklas saw only +the head of an ibis, called "Hac" or "Hib" by the Egyptians, and the +lad, mindful of the honor due the bird as sacred to the god Thoth, +the Egyptian deity of letters and of the moon, made a gesture of +semi-reverence. He remembered what the Egyptians were wont to say, +when on the nineteenth day of the first month, they ate honey and +eggs in honor of Thoth: "How sweet a thing is truth!" +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas murmured with a heavy sigh, "Timokles told me he had found +'the truth' O Timokles, is thy 'truth' sweet to thee now? Oh, my +brother, my brother!" +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas cast himself down among the vines, and wept his unavailing +tears. Little did the lad, reared in a pagan home, know of the +sweetness of the Christian faith, for which Timokles had forsaken +all. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas' small sister, the child Cocce, sat on the pavement in the +central court of her home in Alexandria. Above her towered three +palms that shaded the court. Beside the little girl was an Egyptian +toy, the figure of a man kneading dough. The man would work, if a +string were pulled, but Cocce had thrown the toy aside. Lower and +lower sank the small, brown head, more and more sleepily closed the +large, brown eyes, till the child drooped against a stone table that +was supported by the stone figure of a captive, bending beneath the +weight of the table's top. +</P> + +<P> +As Heraklas entered the court his eyes fell upon his sleeping little +sister, but he noted more closely the stone captive against which +she leaned. Heraklas marked how the captive was represented to bend +beneath the table's weight. The boy's eyes grew fierce. Captivity +seemed a cruel thing, since Timokles had gone into it. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas flung himself on a seat covered by a leopard's skin, and +gazed moodily upward at the palm-leaves, one or two of which stirred +faintly under the slight wind that came from a corridor, whither the +wooden wind-sails,—sloping boards commonly fixed over the terraces +of the upper portions of Egyptian houses,—had conducted the current +of air. +</P> + +<P> +Borne from the streets of Alexandria, there seemed to Heraklas to +come certain new, half-heard noises. He listened, yet nothing +definite reached his ears. +</P> + +<P> +At length, seeing through a range of pillars a slave moving in the +distance, Heraklas summoned the man, and asked what was the cause of +the faintly-heard sounds. +</P> + +<P> +"The people destroy the possessions of some of the Christians," +humbly replied the slave, whose name was Athribis; and Heraklas, +stung to the quick by the answer, impatiently motioned the man away. +</P> + +<P> +Left alone, Heraklas lifted his head proudly. He would ignore the +pain. What had he to do with the Christians? He, who had watched his +consecration-night in the temple of Isis; he, who had caught some +sight of the Mysteries sacred to that goddess; he, who had worn the +harsh linen robe and those symbolic robes in which a novice watches +his dream-indicated night—what had he to do with Christians? Would +that Timokles had observed the emperor's command that no one should +become a Christian! Heraklas groaned. +</P> + +<P> +The dismissed man-slave, Athribis, looked cautiously back through +the pillars, and smiled. None knew better than he how any reference +to the Christians stabbed the hearts of this family. Athribis +himself hated the Christians. He longed to be out in Alexandria's +streets this moment, that he, too, might be at liberty to pillage +the Christians' houses. Who knew what jewels he might find? And he +must stay here, polishing a corridor's pavement, when such things, +were being done in the streets! His dark eyes glanced back again. +Heraklas' head was bowed. +</P> + +<P> +Stealthily Athribis passed out of sight of the court. He threaded +his way through corridors. +</P> + +<P> +"Whither goest thou?" asked another slave by the threshold. +</P> + +<P> +"I go to the market to get some lentiles," glibly replied Athribis; +and, passing, he quickly gained the portal and the street. +</P> + +<P> +"One, may find that which is better than lentiles," Athribis +communed with himself, as he wound hither and thither through the +excited crowds. "Should a Christian have jewels, and I none? I, who +am faithful to the gods!" +</P> + +<P> +With this the slave plunged into a company of house-breakers, and +with them boldly attacked the dwelling of a Christian. It was easily +taken, and Athribis rushed with the company into the interior. +Stools and couches were wrenched to pieces, cushions were torn, +tables were overthrown. +</P> + +<P> +"Woe to the Christians of Alexandria!" fiercely muttered one man. +"We will root them from our city! They shall die!" +</P> + +<P> +The crude brick of the building gave way, in places, under repeated +blows. The stucco of the outer walls fell off, and was tracked with +the crushed brick into the halls. Some of the rude company, rushing +to the flat roof of the building, discovered there, hidden by a +wind-sail, a treasure-box, as was at first supposed. On being +hastily opened, however, the box was found to hold nothing but some +rolls of writing. Contemptuously the box was kicked aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Come down! Come down!" cried voices from the court. "Here are the +Christians!" +</P> + +<P> +The loud clamor from below announced that the Christian family had +indeed been discovered, and would be taken to prison. +</P> + +<P> +The company on the roof made haste to descend, to witness the +family's humiliating exit. As Athribis passed by the box again, he +looked more curiously at it. Surely the scrolls must be of some +worth. He could not read, but perhaps something of value might be +secretly hidden inside each of these scrolls. Who knew? It must be! +It seemed incredible that even Christians would be foolish enough to +fill a treasure-box with nothing but rolls of writing, and then +conceal the box so carefully behind this wind-sail! +</P> + +<P> +Athribis purposely lingered a little behind the other men. He +snatched up the rolls, and having hidden them in his garment, +hurried from the roof. +</P> + +<P> +"I am a Christian," calmly said a voice in the court. "Yea, I have +striven to bring others to Christ." +</P> + +<P> +There stood the father of the household, his wife, and their two +children, one a girl of thirteen, the other a boy a little younger. +They had broken the emperor's decree. The father did not deny the +charge brought against them. It was his voice that Athribis had +heard, and the same voice spoke on: +</P> + +<P> +"My children," continued the father, "our days on earth come to a +close. Let us sing our twilight hymn, for now indeed our work is +nearly done." +</P> + +<P> +Above the scornful tumult rose the four voices, singing the +"Twilight," or "Candle Hymn," of the early Christians. The +children's tones trembled a little at first, but soon grew firm, as +if sustained by the calmness with which the parents sang. The angry +faces around the court became yet more fierce with hatred, as, +through a moment's pause, the rioters listened to the words of the +hymn: +</P> + +<P> +"Calm Light of the celestial glory, O Jesus Son of the Eternal +Father, We come to thee now as the sun goes down, And before the +evening light We seek thee, Father, Son And Holy Spirit of God. Thou +art worthy to be forever praised by holy voices, O Son of God; thou +givest life to us, And therefore doth the world glorify thee." +</P> + +<P> +Mocking cries arose from the mob. Not daring to linger longer, +Athribis ran out of the house, and hastened homeward, full of +apprehension as to what might await him. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are the lentiles?" asked the slave by the threshold, as +Athribis, forgetful, in his excitement, of the excuse he had made +for his departure, passed swiftly and softly in. +</P> + +<P> +"I found none," quickly answered Athribis, with alarm. +</P> + +<P> +He sped silently to his former place of work, and fell to polishing +the pavement with a zeal unknown before. He knew well enough that +the slave by the threshold would not believe in that excuse, +lentiles being plentiful enough. Terror had robbed Athribis' +deceitful tongue of its usual cunning, and now he silently bewailed +his startled answer. If the slave by the threshold should report to +Heraklas' mother the fact that Athribis had been away! +</P> + +<P> +Athribis longed to have time to unroll the scrolls which he had +hidden in his garment, but he dared not look at them till he should +be alone. +</P> + +<P> +A voice sounded in the court. Athribis redoubled his zeal: He +recognized the tones of Heraklas' mother. +</P> + +<P> +"I was not long gone! I was not long gone!" the guilty Athribis +hastily assured himself. "Surely she hath hated the Christians, even +as I hate them! I was gone but a moment! Surely she cannot know! If +I find treasure in my rolls, I will give some to the slave by the +threshold. Surely, treasure is as dumbness to a man!" +</P> + +<P> +The footsteps of the mother of Heraklas drew near. The servant bowed +over his work, and dared not lift his eyes. She did not stop! And +Athribis looked breathlessly after the woman, as she passed +majestically on. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely she hath not known what I did!" he gasped as the stately +figure disappeared among the columns. "Isis preserveth me from +stripes! My feet are unbeaten!" +</P> + +<P> +Athribis waited till night, when the household slept. Then he crept +out of the little chamber on the roof where the slaves were wont to +sleep, according to the custom of Egyptian households. +</P> + +<P> +A dim thread of a moon floated toward the west. Athribis crept to a +far part of the roof. The wind blew somewhat, but it did not cool +the fever of excitement felt by him. Within a moment he might be +rich! He might find gold in these scrolls! +</P> + +<P> +He drew out the scrolls. Surely there was something firm inside this +one! He felt something! He narrowly scanned the Christians' papyrus, +as he hastily unrolled it. His lips were parted with eagerness, his +breath panted into the heart of the scroll, as he held his face down +that he might see. He unrolled the papyrus to the end. He sat up, +and drew a breath. His bare feet kicked viciously at the unrolled +papyrus. No treasure in that first scroll! He seized the second. +With eagerness all the greater because of his former disappointment, +he searched through this roll, his face bent down till his eyelashes +almost swept the surface of the writing. In vain! There was nothing! +</P> + +<P> +"These Christians! What cheats they are!" +</P> + +<P> +He snatched the third roll. With trembling fingers he unrolled this, +the last of the papyrus scrolls. There must be something hidden! It +could not be possible that he would be disappointed in the last +scroll! Was there no treasure? Not a thin wedge of gold at the heart +of this papyrus? Not a jewel, not anything that savored of riches? +</P> + +<P> +Athribis' shaking fingers unrolled the papyrus to its very end. +Nothing but the continuous writing, and the stick on which the +scroll had been rolled! His limp hand let fall the end of the +papyrus. It descended upon the heap at his feet. Had he dared, he +would have cried aloud in his disappointment. +</P> + +<P> +But it was not his voice that pierced the night. Some one had seen +him! +</P> + +<P> +"A robber!" cried a woman's tones. "A thief! On the roof!" +</P> + +<P> +Athribis leaped to his feet. He caught the papyri. Alas, alas! they +were not rolled, now! The wind tossed the long streamers, and as +Athribis in fearful haste snatched them, the breeze blew one scroll +entirely free. It, swept from the roof, and, descending into the +court, hung in a long strip from one of the palms. +</P> + +<P> +The dismayed Athribis cast the other papyri on the roof, and fled. +It was time. The house was being aroused by the cry of the woman. +With his bare, silent feet, Athribis sped through the shadows of the +corridors to what he thought a secret spot, and hid himself. The +house resounded with outcries. Feet ran hither and thither. +</P> + +<P> +Out in the court, hanging all unseen from a palm-tree, swayed the +papyrus, the written copy of part of the Sacred Book of the +Christians! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II. +</H3> + +<P> +It was night on the Libyan desert. The stars glittered on the rocky +highlands that compose so much of that desert, and lit faintly, too, +the areas between, where stretches of sand waited to be shifted by +the next simoon that should blow. +</P> + +<P> +In one spot, at the edge of a rock, there was a movement of the +sand. Out of it a form slowly rose. +</P> + +<P> +The sand shook near by, and another person appeared. Another arose, +and another, till five had arisen. +</P> + +<P> +The man who had first appeared spoke, slowly, in a voice that told +of exhaustion. +</P> + +<P> +"The Emperor Septimius Severus reigneth over our land," he said. "He +hath forbidden that any one should become a Christian. But how shall +we cease to tell men of Christ? How shall he cease to draw men to +himself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Severus hath not been always thus," answered another voice, faint +with weakness. "Proculus, the Christian, once saved the life of +either Severus or his child, and the emperor took Proculus into the +palace and treated him kindly, and chose a Christian nurse for +Severus' boy, Caracalla. When the Romans rose against the +Christians, Severus shielded our brethren. Oh, that the priests of +the false gods of Egypt had not enticed our emperor!" +</P> + +<P> +"Alas for him!" responded the first voice. "The Emperor Severus +worshipeth the false gods of Egypt, but we serve the Lord Christ. +Farewell to Egypt's gods! They shall pass, but Thou shalt endure!" +</P> + +<P> +"Amen," murmured the lad Timokles. "Even so! Thou art Lord of lords, +and King of kings, O Christ!" +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly there was a cry of other voices. Up from the rocks of the +plateau behind the five there sprang a second group of persons. +</P> + +<P> +The five Christians, knowing the voices of their former heathen +captors, fled. The lad Timokles was closely pursued. He felt, rather +than heard, close behind him, the footsteps of his enemy, and, +turning sharply, Timokles sped away in another direction. +</P> + +<P> +Here and there, back and forth, the two ran in the star-lit +darkness. The five Christians were widely scattered now. Shouts and +cries came faintly from a distance. Timokles rushed toward the rocky +plateau. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop, Christian, stop!" cried his enemy, leaping forward with +outstretched hand. +</P> + +<P> +But Timokles fled, stumbling over stones. On came his enemy's swift +leap behind. A piercing cry, as of some one in agony, rang from the +desert's distance. Timokles sped faster. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" commanded the voice of the runner behind. "Stop!" +</P> + +<P> +A swift prayer burst from Timokles' lips. He fled on, his pursuer so +near sometimes that Timokles' heart failed him. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop!" screamed his foe. "Stop!" +</P> + +<P> +The fierce command pulsed through Timokles' brain. The man behind +suddenly slipped, stumbling over the stones. He fell heavily, and in +that instant's time, Timokles darted forward behind one of the +rocks, and, creeping underneath it, lay breathless in the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +The man struggled to his feet. Up past the other side of the rock +rushed the pursuer. Timokles, quaking, expected every instant to be +discovered. +</P> + +<P> +"Where art thou?" savagely called the man. "Where?" +</P> + +<P> +He ran hither and thither with fiercely muttered imprecations. Now +his footsteps sounded farther off, and now again he ran back and +came softly stealing around among the rocks. Timokles laid his +branded cheek against the gravel, and waited. +</P> + +<P> +The footsteps went, and came, and went again in the dark. Timokles +trembled from head to foot. He did not fear death, but he dreaded +capture and unknown terrors. +</P> + +<P> +The dark form passed by again. A chill went over Timokles, as he +thought he saw a weapon in the man's hand. +</P> + +<P> +The footsteps became inaudible once more. Timokles, waiting a long +time, imagined his foe might have gone. As the lad was about to lift +his head, a hand brushed along the side of his rock, and reached out +into the dark, underneath. Timokles was perfectly quiet. The hand +above him felt down the sides of the rock, waved in the darkness +above the boy, descended and rested an instant on the gravel next +him—but did not touch him. The silent menace of the groping hand +was terrible. Timokles held his breath. +</P> + +<P> +The hand passed on, feeling of other rocks. +</P> + +<P> +"O God of thy people, thou hast hidden me!" cried Timokles in his +heart, as he heard the soft rubbing of his enemy's hand against the +farther rocks. +</P> + +<P> +The sound died away. Timokles lay listening for a long time. Once he +thought he heard a creeping sound, but it was only the wind. +</P> + +<P> +Sleep came upon him at last, and when he woke it was day. He dared +not come out, but lay there through the torrid hours, moistening his +lips now and then with a little water from the small, skin +water-pouch he carried. +</P> + +<P> +The sun plunged beneath the horizon at last, with the usual seeming +suddenness observed in the desert. Night was welcome to Timokles, +and he came forth. The lad's heart was very lonely. He looked toward +the northeast, and remembered his Alexandrian home—his mother, the +brother with whom Timokles' whole life had been bound up, the little +sister Cocce, whom Timokles had last seen playing gleefully with a +toy crocodile, and laughing at its opening mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"O Severus!" whispered Timokles, "what didst thou see, when thou +visitedst Egypt five years ago, that thou shouldest decree such evil +against the Egyptian Christians now?" +</P> + +<P> +Softly Timokles went his way in the dark. He was hungry, yet he +dared eat little of the dried dates he had with him. When would he +find other food? +</P> + +<P> +For a time he looked warily around, but soon his sense of loneliness +overcame his fear, and he watched more for some sign of his four +friends than for an indication of an enemy. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps some Christian hath escaped, even as I have," thought +Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +He started. +</P> + +<P> +Outstretched before him lay a figure of a man! Timokles stood +motionless, till he perceived the man be to be asleep. Then the lad +bent over the sleeper to scan his face. But, as Timokles stooped, he +dimly saw, in the relaxed, open palm of the man's hand, a small +stone of the triangular form under which the Egyptians were wont to +worship Osiris, Isis, and Horus. Such are the stones found in the +tombs of the Egyptians. +</P> + +<P> +This was no Christian sleeper that lay at Timokles' feet! The lad +turned and fled into the distance. +</P> + +<P> +Through the desert there wailed a thin, plaintive cry. It was the +voice of a night-wandering jackal. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles was dizzy to faintness, and staggered as he was driven on. +He had been discovered and taken. His life had been spared that he +might henceforth be a slave. +</P> + +<P> +"I bear this for thy sake, O Lord, dear Lord!" murmured the +exhausted lad, as the blows drove him through the pathless desert. +</P> + +<P> +Again came the plaintive cry of the wandering jackal. +</P> + +<P> +"For thy sake!" faintly repeated Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes passed, and once more the jackal's inarticulate voice +wailed through the desert, but Timokles had fallen, helpless. A man +sprang forward, and the lash fell again and again on Timokles' +prostrate body, but the boy did not stir. +</P> + +<P> +"Now see how the Christian would die in the desert, and cheat us of +all the work he might do!" grumbled the vexed voice of a dismounted +camel-rider. "He is young. There are many years of work in him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Leave him!" scornfully advised another, who held a torch. "Some +beast will find him." +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, but he shall go with me to Carthage," asserted a third, from +the height of his camel's back. "Carthage knoweth what to do with +Christians!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who art thou that thou shouldest own the Christian?" demanded the +first, angrily gazing up at the presumptuous rider. "Did I not find +him?" +</P> + +<P> +The mounted camel-rider laughed, and tossed something toward the +irate speaker. The man caught the object, a ring of gold, containing +a scarabaeus. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it," said the giver to the appeased rival. "The Christian is +mine." +</P> + +<P> +The unconscious Timokles was taken up at a sign from the camel-rider +to one of his servants, and the cavalcade proceeded on its way. As +his camel paced forward, Pentaur, the purchaser, glanced back twice +or thrice. +</P> + +<P> +"Truly," he assured himself with much complacency, as he perceived +Timokles being carried, "I follow the maxim of Ptah-hotep: 'Treat +well thy people, as it behooveth thee; this is the duty of those +whom the gods favor.'" +</P> + +<P> +As Pentaur, for that moment, thought of the dread hour when, after +death, according to Egyptian belief, he should stand before the +judgment-seat of Osiris, the camel-rider felt convinced that he +would have merl which might stand him in good stead in that ordeal. +</P> + +<P> +Little by little, Timokles regained consciousness. He marveled to +find himself carried. He had expected to be killed where he fell. +The many painful welts of the lash's stripes stung him with keen +pain. +</P> + +<P> +"O mother! mother!" Timokles' heart cried silently. +</P> + +<P> +Had she indeed lost all love for him, since she had told him she +wished he had died rather than become a Christian? +</P> + +<P> +"Lord Christ," cried Timokles' breaking heart now, "I have left all +for thee!" +</P> + +<P> +The company pushed on rapidly. At length, after morning with its +heat had come, the party halted, and the slave who had carried +Timokles flung him on the sand, the slave comforting himself that +possibly the evil of the Christian's touch might be warded off by a +symbolic eye of Horus that the pagan wore tied to his arm by a +slender string. Such eyes were often used by Egyptians as amulets +and ornaments. +</P> + +<P> +When the hot hours of the day were past, the caravan again made, +ready to go on. The merchant, Pentaur, summoned Timokles, and with +condescending good-nature, demanded his history. Timokles told it. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldest thou be a Christian?" commented Pentaur. "See, we +come to-night to Ammonium the oasis. Every camel-step doth lead thee +farther toward Carthage! Thou wilt perish there! Carthage doth hate +Christians!" +</P> + +<P> +Timokles looked into Pentaur's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Yea, I know that Carthage hateth them," the lad answered. "I heard +that four years ago, when the proconsul Saturninus persecuted the +Christians; and when a number were brought from the little town of +Scillita to Carthage to appear before the tribunal of Saturnin, one +man called Speratus spoke frankly and nobly for his brethren. When +the proconsul Saturninus invited Speratus to swear by the genius of +the emperor, the proconsul promising the Christians mercy if they +would do this and return to the worship of the gods, Speratus +answered, 'I know of no genius of the ruler of this earth, but I +serve my God who is in heaven, whom no man hath seen nor can see. I +render what is due from me, for I acknowledge the emperor as my +sovereign; but I can worship none but my Lord, the King of all kings +and Ruler of all nations.' So were the Christians taken to the place +of execution, where they knelt and prayed, and were then beheaded." +</P> + +<P> +Timokles' eyes fell. His voice trembled. +</P> + +<P> +"O Lord Christ," he added, reverently, "I also would be faithful +unto thee!" +</P> + +<P> +The merchant's piercing look regarded Timokles for a few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"There were women among those twelve Christians who were brought +from Scillita to Carthage to die," continued Timokles, "three women, +called Donata, Secunda, and Vestina. When they were brought before +the proconsul, he said to them, 'Honor our prince, and offer +sacrifice to the gods.' Donata answered, 'We give to Caesar the +honor that is due Caesar: but we adore and offer sacrifice to God +alone.' Vestina, said, 'I also am a Christian.' Secunda said, 'I +also believe in my God, and will continue faithful to him. As for +thy gods, we will neither serve nor adore them.' +</P> + +<P> +"O my master," continued Timokles, with trembling voice, "thinkest +thou not that the God who so strengthened three women that they did +not shrink from death for his sake, could strengthen me to meet +death, also?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III. +</H3> + +<P> +Pentaur looked fixedly at the lad, who stood with no air of bravado +about him, but with an expression of humble trust that the merchant +could not fathom. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldest thou risk death?" questioned the merchant. "Death +will defeat a Christian." +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, O master!" exclaimed Timokles eagerly. "Death may be glorious +victory!" +</P> + +<P> +Pentaur smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" broke forth Timokles earnestly, "I know a death that was a +glorious victory! Carthage knew of it! Didst thou not hear what was +done last year at Carthage? Didst thou not know of the Christian +lady, Vivia Perpetua, and the Christian slave, Felicitas?" +</P> + +<P> +A shudder ran through Pentaur, as Timokles continued: +</P> + +<P> +"Thinkest thou that what they suffered was nothing? Vivia Perpetua +was the best loved of a heathen father's children. How she suffered +in her heart, when her old father came to the prison and besought +her to give up Christ! 'Daughter,' begged the old man, 'have pity on +my gray hairs. Have compassion on thy father!' He wept at her feet. +He begged her to have pity on her little child. But she could not +give up Christ. Wert thou there, O Pentaur, when the governor +examined the prisoners? Didst thou see Vivia Perpetua's old father +press forward, carrying her babe in his arms, and beg her to recant +for the child's sake? Didst thou hear the judge ask her, 'Art thou +then a Christian?' and didst thou hear her answer, 'I am'?" +</P> + +<P> +Timokles paused. Pentaur had groaned. His face was hidden in his +hands. +</P> + +<P> +"And then," continued Timokles, "the wretched father, hearing his +daughter speak those words that doomed her to death, tried to draw +her from the platform. He was struck with a stick, and the judge +condemned Vivia Perpetua and Felicitas, with the other Christians, +to be exposed to the wild beasts." +</P> + +<P> +Another low groan broke from Pentaur. Timokles hesitated an instant, +then hurried on: +</P> + +<P> +"The Christians were to die in the amphitheatre of Carthage. At the +gate of the amphitheatre, the guards offered the men among the +Christians the red mantle of the priests of Saturn, and offered the +women the fillet worn by the priestesses of Ceres. But the +Christians refused. 'We have come here,' they said, 'of our own free +will, that we might not be deprived of our freedom. We have +forfeited our lives in order to be delivered from doing such +things.' Even the heathen could see the justice of this, and the +Christians were not compelled to wear the things. In the +amphitheatre, Vivia Perpetua and Felicitas were put into a net, and +allowed to be attacked by a wild cow. Then the two martyrs gave each +other the kiss of peace, and a gladiator killed them." +</P> + +<P> +Timokles paused once more. Still no response. +</P> + +<P> +"I remember hearing one thing more concerning Vivia Perpetua," +ventured Timokles. "In prison she had had a vision. She thought she +saw a golden ladder stretching up to heaven, and on either side of +the ladder were swords, and spears, and knives. At the foot of the +ladder lay a dragon. Perpetua thought in her vision that she was +commanded to mount the ladder. She set her foot on the dragon's +head, saying, 'He will not harm me, in the name of Jesus Christ,' +and went up the ladder. At the top she found a large garden, and the +Good Shepherd met her." +</P> + +<P> +Pentaur sprang to his feet, and put out a shaking hand. +</P> + +<P> +"No more!" he cried. "Oh, no more! No more! O Vivia, Vivia!" +</P> + +<P> +With a groan of anguish, Pentaur looked upward, as if behind the +desert's sky he might see again that youthful face, the face of that +sweet Christian with whom he had been acquainted from childhood and +whom he had last seen dying in Carthage's amphitheatre. Little did +Timokles know how the memory of Vivia Perpetua's death hour had +haunted Pentaur. They had been children together in Carthage, and +the martyrdom that Vivia Perpetua had suffered in her young +womanhood had impressed Pentaur more than all the agony he had seen +other Christians endure. When she gave up her life, he had clinched +his hands, and muttered fierce words against Carthage's gods, words +he afterward trembled to recall. He served those gods now, yet he +revered the memory of the Christian, Vivia Perpetua, as of one of +the holiest of women. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles ventured no further words. +</P> + +<P> +Pentaur summoned a slave, and committed to his care the young +Christian. The memory of Vivia Perpetua might pierce the merchant's +soul, but would not avail for Timokles' release. +</P> + +<P> +Bound to another slave to prevent escape, Timokles traveled with the +company that night, and before morning the oasis of Ammon, "Oasis +Ammonia," was reached. It was a green and shady valley, several +miles long and three broad, in the midst of sand-hills. Here, over +five hundred years before, had come the founder of Alexandria, +Alexander the Great, to visit the oracle of Ammon, the god figured +to be like a man having the head and horns of a ram. The statue of +Amun-Ra had then been loaded with jewels, through the reverence of +the merchants who halted their caravans at this oasis, and who left +their treasures in the strong rooms of the temple, while resting the +camels under the palm trees. +</P> + +<P> +All this Timokles remembered, as he stood beside the steaming +Fountain of the Sun in the oasis, and watched the bubbles that +constantly rose to the surface of that famous body of water. +</P> + +<P> +"O branded-cheeked cutter of dykes, art thou in very truth a +Christian?" contemptuously asked the slave that guarded Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +"I am, O friend," gently answered the lad. +</P> + +<P> +"Ill shalt thou fare in this oasis, then," threatened the slave. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles' eyes wandered over the landscape. The surface of the oasis +was undulating, and on the north it rose into high, limestone hills. +Date palms abounded near by Timokles. He could see the inhabitants +of the village, and the wanderers from farther, more isolated homes. +The oasis was composed of several disconnected tracts, and Timokles +heard that in the western part of the oasis there was a lake. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the lad became aware of a number of angrily excited voices. +At a short distance stood Pentaur the merchant, surrounded by a +group of men, but what he said was lost in the confusion of tongues. +</P> + +<P> +At length the merchant made a careless gesture, and walked away. +</P> + +<P> +"Take the Christian!" shouted fierce voices. +</P> + +<P> +A man ran straight from the group to Timokles. Without a word the +man seized the lad. Other hands assisted, and Timokles was hurried +away from the village, past palm trees and resting camels, toward +the north. Breathlessly the men dragged him a long distance over the +rising ground. No word of explanation was uttered. Timokles was +swept along, till at length the silent, determined company came to a +solitary, ruined building. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles was pulled over the fallen stones, across what had once +been the court of the dwelling. Then the company reached a spot +where part of the house was still standing. Here a barred door shut +off further progress, but two of the men with great effort opened +the entrance. +</P> + +<P> +All grasping hands fell from Timokles. The company waited. +</P> + +<P> +"Go in, O Christian," commanded, a man. "Others have gone before +thee!" +</P> + +<P> +Timokles looked fixedly forward. Before him was a hall-way, leading +into the portion of the dwelling-house yet remaining. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles stepped forward. Eager hands pushed him quickly into the +hall and shut the door behind him. He heard the sound of bars that +fastened the door securely at his back. He was alone. What building +was this? +</P> + +<P> +He felt here and there in the dark hall. A peculiar odor floated in +the heavy air. Timokles hesitated, fearing he knew not what. His +eyes could not pierce the deep gloom. +</P> + +<P> +Resolving to see whither the hall led, he groped on, wondering if +this were the place in which the inhabitants of the oasis were wont +to confine prisoners. He came to a door. It opened readily to his +touch, and he passed into what had once been a large dwelling-room. +He stepped softly forward, noting the emptiness and desolation of +the place. The peculiar odor of the air was more noticeable than +before, but it was not till he had reached the middle of the +darkened room, and stood gazing about him, that he perceived at the +farther end, in the shadows, a space of yellowish fawn color, and +then saw manifold dark spots, also, that shaped themselves into a +large, living form. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles drew one quick breath. He softly retreated. Keeping his +eyes fixed on the huge, sleeping leopard, Timokles put out his hand +to take hold of the door through which he had come. His groping +fingers found nothing but the blank wall! +</P> + +<P> +Hastily turning with alarm, Timokles passed his hand over the wall's +surface. Surely the door had been here! There was no handle, no line +in the wall to indicate the existence of a door. +</P> + +<P> +How silently it had swung shut, when he had come through! He +remembered that there had been no noise. He pressed his full force +now against the wall. He tried it softly, cautiously, here and +there, till he had passed over the entire space in which he knew the +door must be, and yet the wall stood apparently blank and whole +before him! The other walls seemed to be solid. +</P> + +<P> +With beating heart, Timokles pushed once more at the partition. It +remained firm. Trembling with the shock of his sudden entrapping, +Timokles looked toward the room's far end. It was as he thought. The +beast was not chained. The sleeping leopard's spotted hide heaved +softly yet, with undisturbed breathing, and as Timokles watched +across the space, he remembered the ominous words spoken to him on +his entrance into this building: "Go in, O Christian! Others have +gone before thee!" +</P> + +<P> +For a time, overcome by the horror of his situation, Timokles leaned +against the partition, the door through which had so mysteriously +disappeared. His eyes, between quick glances at the sleeping +leopard, searched with desperate intensity every part of the room, +for some means of escape. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there no place?" he questioned. +</P> + +<P> +Stealthily he crossed the apartment, and felt of the opposite wall. +It was immovable. Nowhere in it could he discover any opening. +</P> + +<P> +The beautiful beast, the waking of which meant so much to Timokles, +stirred a little. The claws of one foot were drawn up. Then the foot +was relaxed again. The leopard continued to slumber. +</P> + +<P> +High above Timokles were two small windows, closed by wooden +shutters. The half-ruined flat roof showed holes here and there +where the old palm branches of its construction, covered with mats +and plastered with mud, had given way. Had it not been for these +holes in the roof, Timokles would hardly have had light enough to +perceive the leopard, for the wooden shutters of the two windows +prevented their being of much service. +</P> + +<P> +Even with the roof's holes, the room was dark. The rents in the roof +were much too far above Timokles to help him to escape; however, and +he reflected that if the roof had been lower, the place would +hardly have been chosen for the confinement of a wild beast, the +present height of the walls preventing the escape of the leopard, as +well as that of any Christian. +</P> + +<P> +The leopard stirred again! +</P> + +<P> +"He wakes!" thought Timokles, summoning his courage for that waking. +</P> + +<P> +But the great cat only moved his head to a somewhat more comfortable +position, and continued to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles repassed slowly and silently so much of the walls as was +accessible to him. The wall next to the sleeping beast could not be +safely examined, yet Timokles, looking through the gloom, noted from +his distance no more promising signs than were exhibited by the +other three sides of the room. Most of all did he linger about the +spot where, it seemed to him, he had entered, and more than once as +he touched the surface of the wall, seeking for some hidden spring, +he thought he heard behind him the leopard's soft footsteps, but, +turning hastily, found himself mistaken. +</P> + +<P> +At length, in his search, Timokles slightly stumbled over some lumps +of mud that had fallen from the roof. The crunching sound partly +aroused the leopard. With a long-drawn sigh, the drowsy creature +stirred and rose slowly to his feet, stretching himself. He did not +yet see Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +How beautiful the spotted hide was! Timokles, watching with steady +eyes for the instant when he should be discovered, had a fleeting +memory of that leopard-skin that covered a seat at home in. +Alexandria. He would never sit there again. +</P> + +<P> +Even in these dread moments of suspense, there flashed across +Timokles' mind the memory of the saying of the martyr Ignatius, +bishop of Antioch, who was sent to Rome to fight with wild beasts: +"I am God's wheat; the teeth of the fierce beasts will but bruise +me, that I may be changed into the fine bread of my God." +</P> + +<P> +It was the moment of discovery! The leopard had been standing, +looking around half sleepily. Now his great eyes spied the lad. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV. +</H3> + +<P> +The beast gave a quick, purring sound of satisfaction. His tail +began to sweep to and fro. His hungry eyes were eager. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles stood quiet. The leopard walked slowly forward. Timokles +retreated, still facing the leopard. They passed down one wall. They +turned, and proceeded along another. They turned again, and passed +the third. Now they turned, and this wall was the one that Timokles +had not before had opportunity to examine closely, because of the +leopard's proximity to it. But now he dared not look from the +leopard. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" whispered Timokles' pale lips, "what shall I do!" +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly life seemed sweeter to him than ever before. He must not +fall into the jaws of this fearful beast! To be caught in this +death-trap, and be torn to pieces! It must not be! He did not regret +that he had avowed his belief in Christ. He would do such a thing +again, if necessary. No less, there grew within him a determination +to ward off this beast as long as possible. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Lord, help me! Deliver me!" whispered Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +They turned another corner, and once more the two enemies proceeded +down the treacherous wall through which Timokles had entered the +room. Even as he retreated, Timokles with a last hope kept one hand +pushing against this wall. But they reached the other corner, and +turned, without any revelation of an opening. The leopard walked +leisurely, but steadily. Softly the footsteps of Timokles and the +beast sounded in the room, one footfall answering another. Backward, +backward, went Timokles—now a turn of a corner—backward, backward. +Another corner. This was the wall by which the leopard had slept. +Backward, backward! The lad could not pause, but now, as he neared +the end of the wall and looked up once beyond the leopard, Timokles +saw, in the dark corner that he had passed, what he had not before +noticed when near enough to see it, as he had not before lifted his +eyes from the leopard. In that farther, dark corner there was a +darker line that marked the wall for some distance from the roof. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles dimly perceived that the line was part of one of the old +palm branches, that, years ago, had been laid across the split date +tree that formed the roof's beam. At the time of the making of the +roof, the palm branches had no doubt been securely fastened, and now +this portion of a branch which hung down was still attached to the +top of the outer wall of the building, but had ceased to be +connected with the central split date tree beam, and had fallen +inward, hanging near the wall. Did the palm branch hang low enough +so that, if he jumped, he could grasp it? +</P> + +<P> +The portion of the old palm branch was a slender thing. It would not +have borne the leopard's weight. Probably the animal had tried to +clutch the branch before now. The lower end might be frayed by his +claws. +</P> + +<P> +"Will the branch bear my weight?" questioned Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +He dared not rush across the room, and leap toward the hanging palm +branch. He felt certain that if he should turn his back, the leopard +would spring immediately. How quickly the beast was coming! +Timokles' head whirled. He was dizzy. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the leopard growled. He crouched as if to spring, and +Timokles, with a wild cry, fled across the room toward the palm +branch. After him rushed the leopard. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles jumped. He grasped the palm branch with one hand. The other +brought a handful of frayed bark down. He caught hold of the branch +with both hands just as the leopard sprang into the air. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles swung aside as far as possible. A great mass of mud, +dislodged from the roof, fell, smiting alike boy and beast, +enveloping them in a cloud of blinding dust. The lad clung to the +branch with desperate strength, though his support was swaying to +and fro. The claws of one of the leopard's paws raked Timokles' arm, +and then the beast dropped to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The leopard's angry cries stunned Timokles' ears. He clutched the +palm branch tightly. From the swaying motion and the sound of a +slight, though ominous, cracking, Timokles doubted if his support +were reliable. +</P> + +<P> +The rage of the leopard was frightful. He seemed beside himself. He +leaped and rushed hither and thither, as he saw Timokles climbing +higher. +</P> + +<P> +The boy shook with exhaustion. His right arm bled from the wounds of +the leopard's claws. He was alarmed lest the old palm branch should +break or should loosen from the wall. If he once fell back into the +leopard's jaws, there would be a swift end to this skirmishing. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles looked down at the eager eyes. Then he scanned the palm +branch narrowly. It did not hang parallel with the wall, but stood +out a little from it, and Timokles thought that the branch was +partly broken, up next the roof. He hardly dared climb much higher +for fear of breaking it entirely off. So he lay along the branch, +clasping it with his arms, and shut his eyes. He heard the leopard +walk impatiently around, stop, utter an angry cry, walk restlessly +again, spring unavailingly into the air, drop heavily to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +At last Timokles opened his eyes. A yellow light, turning into +darkness, seemed to fill the space before him. Alarmed, he strove to +overcome this faintness. He knew his arm had been bleeding a little, +but he had not before this feared unconsciousness. Now he began to +feel that he must reach the roof. His faintness might prevent him +from clinging to the palm branch much longer. +</P> + +<P> +With Timokles' first motion the leopard was alert again. Timokles +climbed cautiously. He was nearing the roof. There was a cracking +sound, such as he had heard, before. The leopard moved vehemently. +Suddenly the branch cracked so that it swung Timokles against the +wall. The leopard's movement sounded like a leap. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles was sure that the branch was giving way. He was nearly to +the roof. He clutched at it. The mud-covered, rotten mat that he +grasped broke through his fingers, and the dust descended into his +face. He grasped again, with the same result. The branch was +momentarily growing looser. The leopard was ready. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles grasped again—again—again! The rotten mats and the mud +with which they had been plastered came away in great handfuls. He +could hardly see, for the descending dust. He grasped blindly, +desperately. He felt something firm! It was another palm branch that +his fingers reached as he dug through the mud. He held on with the +clutch of despair. +</P> + +<P> +His head just reached a hole in the roof. He missed his grasp, and +fell back on the swinging, broken palm branch. With one final, +cracking sound it parted! Timokles' one hand grasped the top of the +wall; his other hand reached the outer part of the roof. He heard +the old palm branch fall, and the leopard spring to meet it. +</P> + +<P> +Dragging himself upward, panting with exhaustion, Timokles succeeded +in mounting through the hole to the outside of the roof. His foot +plunged through a mat. He recovered himself, and crawling to a +little distance from the hole, he lay down on the roof. The sun was +high in the heavens, but all the world became black to Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +He lay there, faint, for hours. When he could look up at last, the +sun was descending toward the west. Far overhead sailed the sacred +hawk of Egypt, and the bird's piercing cry, full of melancholy, +reached Timokles' ears. The shadow of a palm tree stretched outward +and touched him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, God!" whispered Timokles reverently, "Thou west Daniel's God. +Thou art mine!" +</P> + +<P> +Night had fallen. Timokles, lying in the dark, heard a sound beside +the building. Some one was coming! +</P> + +<P> +Timokles crept to the roof's edge farthest from the sound, and lay +down. +</P> + +<P> +The head of a man appeared above the roof's level. Evidently he was +not accustomed to the roof, for he was very cautious in his +movements, and tested every step he took. He carefully approached +one of the holes of the roof, and, kneeling, put his face down to +the aperture. +</P> + +<P> +The man spoke, and, by his tones, Timokles recognized Pentaur the +merchant. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Christian!" cried Pentaur into the depth of the building, +"livest thou? Ill shall I fare at the judgment of Osiris for this +day's deed!" +</P> + +<P> +There was silence. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps, from the darkness of the room below, Pentaur could see the +shining of the brute's eyes, or hear his uneasy stepping to and fro. +Something sent a shudder of horror through the man. +</P> + +<P> +"I have taken pleasure in righteousness," he protested. "I have +heretofore done no injury to men who honored their gods. Oh, Osiris, +I have been righteous!" +</P> + +<P> +There was an awful horror in the man's voice. Timokles was moved +with compassion for his former owner, and yet the lad kept silent. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall I speak to him?" Timokles questioned himself. "If he shall be +beset in some other place by those who hate Christians, will he not +abandon me again to my enemies?" +</P> + +<P> +The merchant waited a moment longer. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Osiris!" then he wailed again, "I have been righteous! He was +only a Christian!" +</P> + +<P> +The merchant sprang up, and sped toward the edge of the roof where +he had first appeared. His foot plunged to its ankle through a weak +place in the mats. He shrieked aloud at the fear of falling through +into the room below. Hurrying forward, he disappeared down the side +of the building. Timokles heard the man running among the fallen +stones. The footsteps grew faint, and ceased to be audible. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles drew a breath of thankfulness. He crept and felt in the +dark for a few, scattered dates that he had before noticed lying +near the roof's edge, the fruit having fallen from a date palm and +having lain there till nearly as dry as shards. But there was still +nutriment left in the dates, and, having eaten nothing since +morning, he gnawed the fruit. +</P> + +<P> +He could not descend by the date palm's trunk, for that was too far +from the roof to be reached by him. The palm's straight trunk shot +up twenty cubits above the roof's level, and, after the manner of +the date palm's growth, bore no branches, such as the doum palm has. +</P> + +<P> +"How did Pentaur climb?" thought Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +The lad passed to the other edge, where the merchant had +disappeared. Here, a little lower as yet than the roof, he found a +group of young doum palms, the branching stems of which variety of +trees he had noticed here and there in forest-like clumps throughout +the oasis. Timokles found no difficulty in descending with the doum +palms' help, and he reflected that perhaps food for the leopard was +often brought up this way, and thrown to the creature through the +roof's holes. No one had come to-day with food, because the +Christian had been sent to keep the leopard company! +</P> + +<P> +The village, some distance away, was quiet. Scarcely had he gone a +score of steps before he saw a star reflected in a spring at his +feet. Timokles dropped upon his knees, and with thankfulness drank +of the refreshing water. How he had longed for some, as he had lain +on the roof under the parching sun this day! He bathed his scratched +arm, which had ceased to bleed but still felt very sore. +</P> + +<P> +Carefully Timokles crept over the fallen remnants of the old +building. Then he turned from the direction in which the village +lay, and set his face toward the northern limestone hills. +</P> + +<P> +He was concealed among them when the sun rose. It would be folly for +him to venture out alone upon the desert without food, even if he +had water in his small skin bottle. As the morning went by, Timokles +saw a few desert hares, but otherwise he was alone. Toward evening, +being compelled to find some food, he searched the district, and +found, under the stones, the nest of some wild bees. With much +difficulty Timokles obtained a little of the honey. +</P> + +<P> +A falling stone attracted Timokles' attention. Turning with quick +affright, he saw a woman. There was a startled suspicion in her +eyes, as she gazed at him. She held a young gazelle that had strayed +away and had been the object of her search near these hills. +Suddenly the woman disappeared without a word. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V. +</H3> + +<P> +"Let me hide speedily!" Timokles warned himself. +</P> + +<P> +He ran, but shouts arose behind, and before he could conceal +himself, two men came running after him. The woman's shrill cry was +audible. The men came up with Timokles, and laying hold of him in a +manner not wholly rough but still imperative; they brought him back +with them to the spot where the woman still stood. +</P> + +<P> +The three looked at him with curious yet not wholly unfriendly eyes, +and Timokles felt relieved on seeing that he was not recognized as +any one whom they had seen before. This spot was so far from that on +which the building stood where he had been given to the leopard, +that the lad concluded these people had not witnessed that scene. +Pentaur's caravan would have left the oasis before now. Probably the +merchant was about to renew his journey at the time of his visit to +the leopard's den. +</P> + +<P> +The woman pointed to Timokles' branded cheek. Taking heart from the +apparent lack of real hostility in the manner of his captors, +Timokles asked for something to eat. He was understood, and the +three, taking Timokles, turned from the hills, and proceeded +eastward, till, coming to a black tent near some palms, the woman +went in and brought Timokles some barley cakes. +</P> + +<P> +While the boy ate, the two men, still watching him, betook +themselves to work. They seemed to be makers of idols. The father +was carving a small wooden statuette of the god Thoth. The son +worked on a larger idol, the goddess Apet, or Thoueris, in the shape +of a hippopotamus walking upright on hind feet. The idol was of +green serpentine, and the mother watched with evident pride the +skill with which her son worked. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles moved to rise, and instantly the suspicious eyes of the +young hippopotamus-sculptor flashed. The father dropped his +statuette, and, fiercely springing forward, forced Timokles to the +ground, bound him, and went back to the carving of the ibis-head of +Thoth. +</P> + +<P> +Beneath the hand of the younger idol-maker, the hippopotamus grew in +hideous perfection. Helplessly Timokles watched the process. The +mouth of the hippopotamus-goddess was almost shut, but the teeth of +the lower jaw were visible, and it was upon their making, as well as +upon that of the wide nostrils, that the young man was expending his +skill. The huge ears of the goddess descended on the fore-feet, +which were placed on the sides of the upright animal, as a man's +arms hang by his sides when he walks, and from each of the +hippopotamus' arms there descended to the level of her feet the +Egyptian emblem of protection, called "Sa." +</P> + +<P> +As Timokles looked at those emblems of protection, a new thought +grew within him. +</P> + +<P> +"Women will worship that hippopotamus-goddess and think themselves +safe! I worship the God of heaven, and yet I am afraid! Shall I not +put as much trust in the delivering, protecting power of my God, as +the idol-worshiper will put in this hippopotamus?" +</P> + +<P> +There came the sound of hurried footsteps, and a young girl ran by +the black tent, and spoke gayly to the woman. From the resemblance +of the maiden to the worker on the hippopotamus, Timokles had no +doubt she was his sister. But when the girl, turning her brilliant, +laughing face toward Timokles, first saw him, her dark eyes dilated +with a look of startled horror. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles knew, as well as if she had spoken, that she was one of +those who had seen him dragged to the leopard's home. He looked +beseechingly at her now, as she stood transfixed, the shocked +expression deepening in her eyes. If she should say a word! Timokles +could feel himself tremble. She had thought him dead! She knew him! +If she should say so! +</P> + +<P> +The silent appeal of Timokles' beseeching face seemed to find its +answer for the moment. The girl turned toward the work of the idol-makers. +No one beside Timokles had noticed her frightened gaze. Now, +with assumed carelessness, she watched her brother's busy fingers, +yet Timokles felt that her thoughts were of him. She had only to +speak; to say, "This is the Christian who was thrown to the +leopard," and father and son would drop their work, spring upon him, +drag him back all the way to the building from which he had escaped, +and toss him, bound and helpless, to the leopard. +</P> + +<P> +It was not till nearly dark that the idol-makers ceased their work. +Having eaten dried dates and barley bread, the father and the son, +first tightening Timokles' thongs, went away in the direction of the +far distant village. During their absence, the girl came to +Timokles, bringing him water and dried dates. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, O Christian," she whispered in the tongue of Egypt, "art +thou not he?" +</P> + +<P> +She needed not to make the question more explicit. +</P> + +<P> +"I am, O maiden," answered Timokles. The girl's awe-struck eyes +searched his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Did thy God deliver thee?" she questioned, whispering still. +</P> + +<P> +"Yea," replied Timokles reverently and truly. "Yea, O maiden, my God +delivered me from the leopard." +</P> + +<P> +The girl looked alarmed. She drew back. +</P> + +<P> +"Did he come to thee?" she asked in a terrified whisper. "O +Christian, no one ever before came back from the House of the +Leopard! O Christian; I am afraid of thy God!" +</P> + +<P> +There was real terror in her voice. Timokles was moved with +compassion. He leaned forward, eager to explain to her the truth. +What should he say? +</P> + +<P> +"He is a great God, the only God!" whispered Timokles, reverently. +"O maiden, he is not like an idol! He is the only God. Thou canst +not see him, yet he seeth and loveth thee. Speak to him, and he will +hear. He loveth us. He sent his Son to die for our sins. For that +Son's sake, O maiden, he will blot out our sins, if we entreat him. +O maiden, pray no more to idols! Lo, I tell you of the true God!" +</P> + +<P> +He hardly knew whether she understood or not. She gazed at him as if +half comprehending his words, and then the fact of his having +returned from the House of the Leopard seemed to overwhelm every +other thought, and she murmured, "O Christian, I am afraid of thy +God and thee!" +</P> + +<P> +She fled back to the black tent. Timokles' bound hands made but +awkward work of eating. He could hear the voices of the mother and +the daughter talking in the mother's tongue, but what they said he +knew not. Would the father or the son learn something about their +captive? +</P> + +<P> +The voices hushed within the tent. The hours of sleep came on. +</P> + +<P> +The night had grown black. There were footsteps audible. +</P> + +<P> +"They have come back!" thought Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +The father and the son had returned, and with them came another man. +Timokles heard and understood something of what was said at the +tent's door in the dark. +</P> + +<P> +"If I may but see his face, I shall know whether he hath been here +before," declared the new voice eagerly. "I have seen all who have +come to our village." +</P> + +<P> +"Thou shalt see him in the morning," impatiently answered the maker +of the hippopotamus. "Knowest thou not that on this day I cannot +make a flame by which thou shouldest see? It is the eleventh day of +Tybi, concerning which it is commanded by the priests of Egypt, +'Approach not any flame on this day; Ra is there for the purpose of +destroying the wicked.'" +</P> + +<P> +"I fear no flame!" muttered the new voice discontentedly. "Let me +but see the stranger!" +</P> + +<P> +"There shall no flame be kindled!" burst out in wrath the +superstitious father. "Bide thou till morning! Then shalt thou see +the branded one." +</P> + +<P> +Silence followed. The discontented villager did not dare say more. +After a short time, the quietness of slumber seemed to envelop the +black tent. +</P> + +<P> +Concealed by the dark, Timokles endeavored with his teeth to loosen +the bonds of his wrists. After prolonged attempts, he undid one +knot, and by successive wearisome trials he at length entirely +released his left hand. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles was near the black tent. It seemed to him that he heard the +faintest stir within. But a long silence followed, and he thought he +had been mistaken. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles tugged at the thongs of his right hand. His arm was lame +from the leopard's claws, and he could not reach the knots that held +him. He struggled mightily, till at last he lay exhausted, no nearer +free than before. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot do it!" he despaired. +</P> + +<P> +He must wait for dawn, for recognition, and for death, such death as +was thought meet for a Christian. Timokles shut his eyes, and +prayed. +</P> + +<P> +"Be with me, be with me, O Lord!" besought Timokles. +</P> + +<P> +Again within the tent he conjectured there might be a faint stir. +</P> + +<P> +"My enemy cometh!" he thought. +</P> + +<P> +But there was silence. Timokles waited, yet there came no sound. +</P> + +<P> +Remembrances of what he had heard concerning former martyrs crowded +upon him. He thought of Pothinus, the ninety-years-old bishop of +Lyons, who, in answer to the legate's question, "Who is the God of +the Christians?" boldly answered, "If thou art worthy, thou shalt +know," and was tortured so severely that he died in prison. Timokles +remembered hearing of Ponticus, the boy who, in the same +persecution, bore all the tortures unflinchingly, though he was but +fifteen years old. And Blandina, the maiden, who, tortured, +bleeding, mangled, still persisted in her declaration, "I am a +Christian! Among us no wickedness is committed," came to Timokles' +mind. His thoughts turned to the martyr Christians of four years ago +at Carthage, and he remembered the words of one of those Christians: +"We will die joyfully for Christ our Lord." +</P> + +<P> +Timokles prayed long and fervently. His heart went back to his +beloved Alexandrian home. Heaven would be sweet, but would his dear +ones ever know the only way there? Would they ever accept Jesus +Christ as their Savior? +</P> + +<P> +"O Lord, help Heraklas to know thee!" prayed Timokles with dropping +tears. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing did Timokles know of the roll of the Book of the Christians, +the papyrus that had swung from the palm tree in the court at home! +</P> + +<P> +Something made him turn his head. He started, for he saw, stretched +out toward him from beneath the black tent, an arm. No more was +visible. The black tent descended to the very ground. Looking more +closely, he discerned in the hand a knife. For an instant, Timokles +thought his enemy was upon him. But it was a small hand, and it was +the handle of the knife, not its blade, that was offered to him! +</P> + +<P> +Timokles stretched out his one free hand, and took the knife. The +arm disappeared beneath the black tent so swiftly and so noiselessly +that Timokles would almost have thought that the sight of the arm +had been an illusion had he not held the knife in his left hand. He +remembered the girl's words, "O Christian, I am afraid of thy God +and thee!" +</P> + +<P> +"Would that I might have told her more of Him!" wished the young +Egyptian, as he awkwardly cut at his bonds with the knife. +</P> + +<P> +He was free again! He crept softly away after pushing the knife's +handle back under the edge of the black tent. He felt that in the +secrecy of the tent one listened who knew he was free. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou didst put it into her heart to save me!" whispered Timokles +with a reverent look at the sky. +</P> + +<P> +He knew that as soon as his escape should be discovered there would +be instant pursuit, therefore he sought to travel as swiftly as +possible. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI. +</H3> + +<P> +Athribis the slave bent lower—lower yet. What was this that he saw? +He was on the roof of the house in Alexandria. Through an open space +beside the wind-sail next to him, he could look into a small room +below. +</P> + +<P> +In that room, his master Heraklas knelt and carefully drew a brick +from its place in the wall. Putting his hand into some hole that +seemed to be behind the bricks, Heraklas produced a roll of papyrus. +He glanced stealthily around, and, kneeling still, unrolled the +writing, and read in eager haste, one hand on the brick, ready at +the sound of any coming footsteps to thrust the papyrus quickly into +the wall again. It was a thing well pleasing to the treacherous soul +of Athribis that he should have discovered some secret of his +master. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the writing, that he hideth it there?" the slave questioned +himself. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas continued to read. Stretched on his perch, and straining +his neck to look, Athribis deemed the time long. His prying eyes +noted carefully the distance of the loose brick from the floor. +Athribis did not recognize the papyrus as one that he had seen +before. The sight of any papyrus, however, had been distasteful to +him since the night of his adventure on the roof, but he thought the +papyri of that escapade safely burned long ago. He knew that +Heraklas' mother had ordered those destroyed that were found on the +roof. Athribis supposed the one also burnt that had fallen into the +court. What else should have become of it? No suspicion concerning +it had crossed his mind till now. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that I could see what he readeth!" wished Athribis vainly. +"What meaneth that large sign? Is it the 'tau'?" +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas farther unrolled the papyrus, and the mark of the cross +that had caught Athribis' eye and had interested him, vanished. The +mark seemed to the slave like the Egyptian "tau" or sign of life; +used afterwards, curiously enough, by the Christians of Europe as a +prefix to inscriptions. Numbers of inscriptions headed by the tau +have remained even to the present time, in early Christian +sepulchres in the Great Oasis. +</P> + +<P> +"If that were the tau, there may be no harm in the writing," thought +Athribis sullenly. "Yet why hideth he here?" +</P> + +<P> +The supposed sign of the tau rolled in sight again, as Heraklas +shifted the papyrus. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas had discovered the papyrus when it hung from the palm in +the court. Seeing the character of the writing, he had kept the roll +for secret perusal. He conjectured that the thief, supposed to have +been on the roof, might have dropped the roll. During the three +months that had elapsed since Heraklas found the papyrus hanging +from the palm, he had come often to this secret hiding-place. He +knew his mother would destroy the Christians' Book, if she saw it. +He knew the servants were not to be trusted in the matter. +</P> + +<P> +Frequently, during the first month, he had thought that he would +destroy the papyrus, and, as often, he had deferred doing so, so +much was he always drawn back to reading it. At the end of the +second month, Heraklas read with even more eagerness than at first. +Here was something that even the maxims of Ptah-hotep had not +attained. Never had Heraklas seen such a book as this Gospel of +John. Its words followed him when he was not reading. Why should the +words of Jesus of Nazareth cling to one's memory with so persistent +a force? Was it true that "never man spake as this man"? +</P> + +<P> +Even when Heraklas passed outside the city streets, and walked the +northern cliffs beside the sea, he was constrained to remember that +it was along these craggy places that, men said, a century and a +half ago, Mark, the first Christian apostle to Alexandria, had been +dragged by cords, at the time of the feast of the god Serapis. Then, +tradition said, there had arisen a dreadful tempest of hail and +lightning, that destroyed the murderous heathen. +</P> + +<P> +Was the Christian God greater than Serapis, the great deity of +Egypt? +</P> + +<P> +Such thinking sent Heraklas back again to study the papyrus of +John's Gospel. And now Athribis wearied, waiting for Heraklas' +reading to end. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Heraklas, attracted perhaps by the silent force that lies +in a human gaze; lifted his head from his reading, and glanced +upward. Athribis had not time to start aside. The eyes of the two +met in a long, piercing gaze! Heraklas sprang to his feet. The +papyrus fell, on the loose brick beside him. +</P> + +<P> +Athribis' head vanished instantly, and Heraklas, snatching the +papyrus, wound it closely, and thrust it into his garments. +</P> + +<P> +He hastily replaced the loose brick. No safe place for the papyrus +would the hole be, hereafter. +</P> + +<P> +When he met Athribis afterwards in a corridor, Heraklas felt his +heart beat more quickly against the hidden roll. But the lad was +stern in outward semblance. +</P> + +<P> +"Athribis!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +The slave bent before the lad. +</P> + +<P> +"How wast thou where I saw thee?" demanded Heraklas. +</P> + +<P> +"I was attending to the salted quail. Thou knowest they are drying +on the roof," explained Athribis, meekly. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas felt compelled to accept the excuse. There were quail +drying, according to the custom of lower Egypt. +</P> + +<P> +"But what was it that I read in his face, as he looked down at me?" +Heraklas asked himself. +</P> + +<P> +Thenceforward, unspoken, yet felt as surely as though expressed, +there existed in Heraklas' mind a constant suspicion of Athribis. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas carried the papyrus roll with him, day and night. Well did +he know the danger, but he said to himself that he would not be +dictated to by a servant. That was the ostensible reason he gave +himself for not immediately burning the roll. In reality, he knew +that the words of the Christians' Book had pierced his soul. He +dared not burn the book. He stood before its searching words a +convicted sinner. +</P> + +<P> +The suspicion of veiled surveillance that haunted Heraklas made him +cautious of reading his, papyrus at home. He sought places, to read +it abroad. Hidden among the crags beside the sea, or in the vines on +the banks of Lake Mareotis, Heraklas read, and waged the soul-struggle +that had risen within him. +</P> + +<P> +One day Heraklas had hidden himself among the northern crags beside +the great sea. His eyes were bent upon his roll. He had been reading +John's record of the conversation between Christ and the man who was +born blind. +</P> + +<P> +"Jesus said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God?" +</P> + +<P> +The man whose eyes Christ had opened, answered and said, "Who is he, +Lord, that I might believe on him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dost thou believe on the Son of God?" +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to Heraklas that there came to him, also, Christ's solemn +question. With awe-struck lips, Heraklas whispered, out of a heart +that craved its answer, "Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on +him?" +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas bent above his roll. The answer of the Lord was there. "It +is He that talketh with thee." +</P> + +<P> +The lad dropped his papyrus, and covered his face. He bowed in awe. +For a long time he knelt there, pouring out his soul in prayer—but +not to Egypt's gods. And that which is written of the blind man was +fulfilled in Heraklas, also—"And he said, Lord, I believe. And he +worshiped him." +</P> + +<P> +When Heraklas rose from his knees, the sun was high in mid-heaven. +It was the time at home when his mother would burn myrrh to the sun. +But no prayer to Re or hymn to Horus escaped Heraklas' lips. How +should he, who rejoiced in the knowledge of sins forgiven, pray more +to false gods? +</P> + +<P> +A holy awe and a great joy wrapped his soul. The burden of sin that +had oppressed him, the hopeless burden which had not ceased to cause +Heraklas misery even when he made offerings to Isis and poured forth +prayers to Serapis, was gone, gone at the touch of Jesus. +</P> + +<P> +Plucking from his girdle his carnelian buckle, that signified to an +Egyptian the blood of Isis, said to wash away the sins of the +wearer, Heraklas leaned forward, and flung the rosy ornament far +into the white foam of the waves below. He could not wear that +heathen sign, even though his mother had given the ornament to him. +</P> + +<P> +"O Isis," murmured Heraklas, as he lost sight of the carnelian +buckle within the waves, "I care not for thy blood! I know whose +blood hath washed away my stain." +</P> + +<P> +With reverent rejoicing, he concealed his papyrus and turned +homeward. +</P> + +<P> +He passed into the great city. A woman was worshiping before a +statue of the god Chonsu, the moon. Heraklas went by quickly, making +no sign of reverence. Glancing back, he saw the woman gazing after +him. +</P> + +<P> +A little farther on stood a statue of Anubis. Other men, as they +passed, gave homage, but Heraklas did not turn his head toward the +idol. He noted, in the stalls and in the shops, the altars and +little idols. When he next went to purchase anything, must he do +reverence? Heraklas met a beggar and dropped a coin into his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Isis and Osiris bless thee!" wished the suppliant. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas' lips parted to answer. Should he, who had been blessed of +the Lord, seem to accept the blessing of idols? But the beggar +turned to another giver, and Heraklas hurried on his way. +</P> + +<P> +Before he could reach home, a sacred procession came in sight. +Already Heraklas could plainly see the leopard-skin that fitted over +the linen robes of the Egyptian high priest who was coming. Twelve +or sixteen inferior priests walked beside the superior one. The high +priest's lock of hair, pendant on one side of his head, became more +and more plain to Heraklas with every step of the procession. +</P> + +<P> +"They carry the shrine of the sacred beetle of the sun," suspected +Heraklas. "I cannot meet them!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned, and dashed down the first opening that presented itself. +The passage led him utterly out of his way. +</P> + +<P> +"But better so," meditated Heraklas, "than that I should have met +that skin-dressed priest!" +</P> + +<P> +He stopped an instant. His circuitous way had led him in sight of a +spot where he had once seen the Christian woman, Marcella, and her +daughter Potamiaena, passing on their way to martyrdom. How awful a +form of martyrdom was it that Alexandria visited upon that beautiful +Christian daughter! Gradually, hot, scalding pitch was poured over +her body, in order that she might endure the utmost torture +possible. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas looked around him at the proud, beautiful city. +</P> + +<P> +"O Alexandria, Alexandria!" he whispered, "in thee is found the +blood of the saints!" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the thought of such a death, as a Christian's +punishment, overcame him. Yet he remembered that it was through +Potamiaena's martyrdom that the soldier, Basilides, was led to +become a Christian also. He refused to take a pagan oath, and was +brought to martyrdom. +</P> + +<P> +When Heraklas reached home, he was trembling. His short journey had +been freighted with silent meaning. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII. +</H3> + +<P> +Two men passed out of the Gate of the Sun, the northern gate of +Alexandria, and came to the docks that bordered the Great Port. The +gaze of one man wandered from the promontory of Locrias on the east +to the isle of Pharos on the north, and followed back the dyke that +connected that island with the docks and marked the division between +the Great Port and Alexandria's other harbor, the Port of Eunostus. +</P> + +<P> +"When that ship saileth," remarked the man, indicating a large +vessel moored in the Great Port, "some Christians go as ballast!" +</P> + +<P> +"How knowest thou?" asked the other. +</P> + +<P> +The former speaker smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou didst not see a little procession that came through the Gate +of Necropolis last evening," he conjectured. "Some Christians +brought in from the desert. This ship carrieth them to Rome, to the +lions of the arena." +</P> + +<P> +An unbelieving spirit looked from the other man's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"When the Christians see that ship waiting for them, they will +recant," he prophesied. "A man doth not readily take shipping for +the port of a lion's mouth!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thou dost not know the Christians," asserted the other. "They are +an obstinate people. Our Lord Severus knoweth that right well. See! +He hath forbidden all public worship for the Christians. Their great +school here bath been scattered. And yet, Christians remain +Christians still! It is incredible! Thou didst speak without knowing +what hath happened. The Christians have already seen the ship. They +are on it! Not one bath recanted. But the ship saileth not for two +days yet, and now, the men on board make merry. Hearest thou not +their voices?" +</P> + +<P> +A slave passed so near as almost to brush the speaker's apparel, yet +the man paid no heed. +</P> + +<P> +But Athribis had heard. For what else but to hear had he this +morning stolen down to the docks? He knew of the little company of +Christians that had been brought captive to Alexandria, for a slave +belonging to another household had told Athribis secretly, "He who +was once thy young master—the Christian, Timokles—hath been +brought in from the desert and goeth on the ship!" +</P> + +<P> +In his heart Athribis made answer, "The ship needeth another +passenger—my young master, the Christian, Heraklas!" +</P> + +<P> +But, as yet, Athribis hardly dared say so, for he had no certain +proof to bring of Heraklas' Christianity. If only he could find +decisive proof, and bring it before the authorities, what a reward +he might hope to have given him! +</P> + +<P> +Yet never, from the day when Heraklas spied Athribis watching the +reading of the roll, had the slave, with all his contriving, been +able again to catch sight of the papyrus. It was no longer kept in +its secret hole behind the bricks. Athribis had looked. +</P> + +<P> +Where else had he not looked? He had hunted the house through as +thoroughly as he had been able, snatching a hasty opportunity here +and there. If only he could lay hands on that very papyrus! If he +could have time to show it to somebody who could read! Deeply had +Athribis regretted that he had not been more cautious in his first +spying. But now, what hope was there? Athribis had set some of the +other slaves of the house to watch, but they had discovered nothing +save the old papyri that bad been in the house for years. Some of +the slaves could read, and they were sure this was so. +</P> + +<P> +Out on the docks, Athribis stared now at the large mast of the ship, +and at the ship's painted eye, and at the sculptured figure of the +goddess Isis on the visible side of the ship's bow, both eye and +figure, as Athribis knew, being duplicated on the bow's other side. +A small boat belonging to the large ship lay floating in the water, +but connected with the ship by a rope. +</P> + +<P> +Athribis dared not tarry longer. He hastened home again. +</P> + +<P> +Closer than ever, as he went his morning round of duties, did +Athribis watch, but Heraklas was invisible. +</P> + +<P> +"He is not at home. He went away three hours ago," cautiously +signaled the slave of the threshold to Athribis. +</P> + +<P> +The slave of the threshold, like Athribis, hated Christians. There +was a secret agreement between the two men that if Athribis ever +should gain any reward for betraying Heraklas to the authorities, +the reward should be evenly divided. Half should belong to the slave +of the threshold, in consideration of his having been apparently +asleep at times when Athribis went out without permission. +</P> + +<P> +The hours went by and Heraklas did not come, to be spied upon. +</P> + +<P> +That morning, Heraklas had gone out to seek some Christians whom he +knew. Two weeks ago he had sought them for the first time to tell +them that he wished to join their number. Greatly had he and they +rejoiced together. +</P> + +<P> +"Witness a good confession, as did thy brother Timokles," an old man +admonished Heraklas. +</P> + +<P> +Almost daily, since then, Heraklas had sought some Christian who +taught him more perfectly the way of the Lord. +</P> + +<P> +Today, as Heraklas sat in a house, secretly studying another portion +of the Book than was written on his own papyrus, a Christian woman +came hastily to him, and told him the tidings concerning his +brother. +</P> + +<P> +"He hath assuredly come!" affirmed the woman. "Vitruvius saw him +carried to the ship with other Christians!" +</P> + +<P> +The before eagerly-read papyrus dropped from Heraklas' hand. He grew +weak and faint. The woman looked at him pityingly. +</P> + +<P> +A wild impulse seized Heraklas. He rushed from the house to the +street. His brother, his Timokles, back again! Back from the desert! +Back in his city-home of Alexandria! And not to be allowed to draw +one free breath, to come back to the house, to see Cocce, to see +him, Heraklas! What could be done! What could be done! To be taken +to Rome to meet the lions! +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas ran toward the northern gate. He bethought himself of +caution, and tried to go with his usual step. He passed through the +Gate of the Sun, and by discreet inquiries discovered which ship the +Christians were on. Then he hid himself near one of the docks, and +watched the ship. +</P> + +<P> +Two days! One of the days partly gone already! Timokles would go +away never to return, surely, this time. +</P> + +<P> +"I also am a Christian!" cried Heraklas aloud. +</P> + +<P> +Only the swaying of the water against the dock answered him. He +sprang up and walked out on the dyke that stretched toward the isle +of Pharos. Opposite him, the ship showed still more plainly than +from the docks. Heraklas made out the prayer inscribed on the +vessel: "Do thou, O Isis, preserve in safety this ship over the blue +waves." +</P> + +<P> +"O Timokles! Timokles!" cried Heraklas, as he stretched his hands +toward the ship. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas walked the dyke till the burning sun of noon forced him to +find shelter. He went back to his hiding place at the docks. He +watched and waited through the long hours. +</P> + +<P> +At length the day departed. When the darkness covered the surface of +the harbor, Heraklas rose and girt about him the ample dress he +wore, of fine linen, that descended to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +He slipped softly into the water, and swam toward the ship. Reaching +the small boat that floated by the ship, Heraklas drew himself up +into the little craft. +</P> + +<P> +He listened to the lap of water on the side of the ship. A sudden +joy shot through Heraklas that they were so near together, Timokles +and, himself. It was for this he had stayed outside Alexandria till +the gates were shut. It were better to be a homeless Christian on +this water than to linger in godless Alexandria! +</P> + +<P> +He heard sounds of revelry on shipboard. Heraklas pulled on the rope +that fastened the small boat to the ship. The rope was stout and +well-fastened. +</P> + +<P> +In the dark, he began to climb the rope with trembling fingers. Now +he hung by the side of the ship, and now, one hand above another, he +drew himself higher, higher, till he grasped the ship's side. He +struggled over it, and dropped down on board in the darkness. He +waited. No one came. He heard sounds of men that laughed and talked +loudly. +</P> + +<P> +He crept a little distance. A rope dangled in his face. He found +himself under the aperture where the buckets for bailing were +worked. After long and careful groping, Heraklas concealed himself +in the vessel's hold, and waited. He suspected that the Christians +were in the hold, but he was afraid to search far. +</P> + +<P> +He had not been long hidden before he heard near him the sound of a +great sigh and the rattling of a chain, as of some animal half-wakened +from sleep. +</P> + +<P> +"It is some wild animal that is to be taken to Rome," suspected +Heraklas, not without a little uneasiness at his own proximity to +the beast. +</P> + +<P> +It was likely that the creature was well secured, yet the lad crept +farther away. He could hear the sound of feet above him and the +laughter of men who, no doubt, were drinking on this almost their +last night in port. +</P> + +<P> +A sound came from another portion of the hold, and Heraklas +listened, trying to discover whether the living being in that +direction were a beast or a person. While he listened, a faint light +began to shine in the hold. There descended softly into the hold two +men, one bearing a light. Heraklas drew back farther into the +darkness. The men passed on, their light held so that Heraklas did +not see their faces. But the hasty glimpse that the lad had of his +surroundings told him that the beast he had crept away from was a +lion that was securely caged in one portion of the hold. +</P> + +<P> +Softly the two men proceeded toward the direction from which +Heraklas had heard sounds. Stealthily Heraklas rose. He surmised +where the two men were going. He wished, yet hardly dared, to +follow. +</P> + +<P> +The light swung one side. One man turned to speak to the other, and +the light fell full on the speaker's face. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas leaped softly forward, and followed without hesitation. For +the face he had seen was the face of Athribis! +</P> + +<P> +There were eight of the Christians. Heraklas, peering from a +distance behind, saw the light held high, as the men paused beside +the Christians. Absolutely exhausted, most of them, by the forced +march of the desert, and by the lack of enough food, they were +asleep, and Heraklas noted with a great pity their gaunt faces. +</P> + +<P> +Athribis bent eagerly forward, scanning one worn countenance after +another. +</P> + +<P> +"Hold the light this way—more this side—here!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Athribis laid his hand on one sleeper's shoulder, and turned him, +slightly. +</P> + +<P> +"This is he!" joyfully exclaimed Athribis. "This is he! I had feared +he was not among these, after all. This is he! I would know him +anywhere! I never saw that brand, though. That is what made him look +differently to me at first. But this is he! This is he!" +</P> + +<P> +"Cease thy prating!" warned his companion, fearfully. "If the men of +this ship were not so drunk, thou wouldest have little time to talk! +Thinkest thou I care nothing for my head? Hasten! Wake him, if thou +wilt, but hasten! Thinkest thou the petty coin thou gavest me will +pay me for my head? Hasten! They think I am guarding these prisoners +safely." +</P> + +<P> +"Small time wilt thou spend guarding them, if thou knowest where +aught is to drink!" responded Athribis sarcastically. "How much hast +thou drank today?" +</P> + +<P> +The wearied Timokles slumbered on, regardless of the light and +talking. +</P> + +<P> +Back in the dark, Heraklas clasped his hands. A mighty sob rose in +his throat. The Christian was indeed Timokles! How worn he was! And +that brand upon his cheek! +</P> + +<P> +Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening. +</P> + +<P> +"Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze, +he recognized the slave. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I +see you once again. My Christian master!" +</P> + +<P> +The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone. +</P> + +<P> +Timokles looked around, bewildered. A quiver passed over his lips. +Athribis reminded him of home. +</P> + +<P> +"Is my mother here?" asked Timokles. A sorrow deeper than tears +looked from his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Athribis smiled. "Thy mother!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +The tone was a sufficient answer. Timokles' eyes fell. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou wilt never see her again," went on Athribis. "Thy mother +hateth thee! She is faithful to Egypt's gods, if thou art not! I +came here only to be certain thou wert on the ship." +</P> + +<P> +"Camest thou from her to me on that errand?" asked Timokles calmly. +</P> + +<P> +Athribis laughed, and turned to go. +</P> + +<P> +"Farewell, my Christian master! Farewell!" said the slave, +mockingly. +</P> + +<P> +There was an instant's silence. The great lion sighed from his cage. +</P> + +<P> +Then answered Timokles' low voice, "O Athribis, may my God become +thine, also!" +</P> + +<P> +A laugh came, as the slave's reply. Athribis and his conductor went +away. The light faded from the hold. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas crept near the Christians. +</P> + +<P> +"Timokles!" he whispered. "Timokles! O Timokles, my brother!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII. +</H3> + +<P> +From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though +there was a startled movement among them. +</P> + +<P> +"O my brother! my brother!" murmured Heraklas, the tears running +down his face in the dark, "I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!" +</P> + +<P> +"Heraklas!" cried Timokles, "Heraklas! How camest thou hither?" +</P> + +<P> +"Peace!" whispered Heraklas in terror. "Thou wilt be heard!" +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas cast his arms about his brother and clung to him. +</P> + +<P> +"How art thou bound, my Timokles?" asked Heraklas, when they had +embraced and wept together. +</P> + +<P> +"My feet are bound with naught but cords, but a chain about my body +fasteneth me to a hook in the wall," answered Timokles. "Thou canst +not release me, my brother! Flee, while thou canst!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nay, but I will try," whispered Heraklas resolutely. +</P> + +<P> +He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that +bound his brother's ankles, cut the knots. Timokles sighed with +relief, as he moved his cramped feet. The feet of two of the other +Christians were bound with thongs, and these Heraklas cut also, but +the other five Christians were bound hand and foot with chains, and +for them Heraklas' knife could not avail. Timokles and the other two +had been considered weaker in body, or else the persons who secured +the Christians had been in haste to join the reveling of the +mariners, and had thought cords strong enough. Yet what availed it +that the feet of any of the Christians were free, if their bodies +were securely bound? +</P> + +<P> +"Thou hast done all thou canst, Heraklas," whispered Timokles. "Go +now, my brother. O my Heraklas, I rejoice thou art a Christian! Go! +We shall meet again in the kingdom of our God!" +</P> + +<P> +"I will never leave thee," answered Heraklas, firmly. "The men are +drinking themselves senseless. I will try what I can do." +</P> + +<P> +He felt the wall till he found that Timokles' chain was held, not by +a hook, but a staple. It was only after long labor with his knife +around this staple that it shook a little in its hold on the wall. +Then Heraklas seized the staple, and swung his whole weight upon it, +and dug his knife into the wall like a madman. He worked with +perspiration standing on his forehead, his breath coming in pants. +Furiously, with all his strength, he dug and pulled till the staple +yielded, and he fell down among the prisoners. But the drunken men +on deck did not hear. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas labored on, till at last he threw his arms about his +brother. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand up, my Timokles," he begged. "See if thou art not free!" +</P> + +<P> +Timokles arose. Nothing hindered him. +</P> + +<P> +"O Heraklas!" he whispered, trembling with excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down again and rest, till I help our brethren, also," whispered +his brother. +</P> + +<P> +But though Heraklas toiled with all his remaining strength, he +succeeded in releasing but one other Christian. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave us," urged the others. +</P> + +<P> +"O my brethren," answered Heraklas with a sob, "would that I could +save you!" +</P> + +<P> +But the six Christians answered steadily, "Why weepest thou, +brother? We but go to our Father's house before thee." +</P> + +<P> +Then he whose feet Heraklas had released, thanked him most heartily, +and all said farewell. +</P> + +<P> +Hours had gone by since Heraklas first came on board the ship. +Cautiously he and Timokles and the other Christian crept out of the +hold. Every movement of their own affrighted them, though they knew +a drunken stupor rested on some of the ship's company. One after +another the three fugitives finally slipped into the water. Heraklas +bore up Timokles, who swam but weakly. The third Christian was +feeble, but he made headway, and in slow fashion they came at length +to the docks of Alexandria. +</P> + +<P> +By this time it was long past midnight. That Timokles or the third +Christian, whose name was Philo, should enter the city was not to be +thought of, since they would be recognized and retaken. After +consultation it was agreed that Timokles and Philo should proceed +along the edge of the sea in an easterly direction and hide +themselves at a point agreed upon, on the coast, a distance from the +city. Heraklas was to enter into Alexandria at the earliest dawn and +was, if possible, to send a message to his mother. He was to obtain +an amount of food, such as he could carry without exciting +suspicion, and was to met his brother and Philo at the appointed +place on the sea-shore. Then they were to flee. +</P> + +<P> +Heraklas went with the others a little way. It seemed as if he could +not part from Timokles. Who knew if they should ever meet again? +</P> + +<P> +In the house where Heraklas' mother dwelt, a receiving-room for +visitors looked upon the court, but a row of columns led inward to a +private sitting-room, which, after the manner of the Egyptians, +stood isolated in one of the passages. In this isolated room, the +mother sat on a stool of ebony, inlaid with ivory. Beside her lay a +papyrus on which was written part of the Sacred Book of the +Christians. The face of the proud woman was hidden in her hands. +</P> + +<P> +Before her stood a messenger who had brought her the following +writing from Heraklas: +</P> + +<P> +"O my mother, forgive thy son! I have found Timokles! He is weak; +nigh, I fear, to death. O my mother, I also am a Christian: Read, I +pray thee, the papyrus I send. It is part of the Christians' Book. +We flee, with other Christians, from Alexandria, today. Farewell." +</P> + +<P> +The mother lifted her face, and her cry rang through the room, "O my +sons, my sons!" +</P> + +<P> +She had execrated Timokles at times when she had spoken of him +before Heraklas, and he had thought that the execration came from +her heart. But she had longed, with pain unspeakable, to see +Timokles once more. And now, when she knew that he had been in +Alexandria, that he needed a mother's care, that Heraklas, also, had +owned allegiance to the Christians' God—when she thought of +Christians burned, beheaded, given to wild beasts—when she realized +that perhaps she should never see again the face of Timokles or +Heraklas, the heart of the mother broke within her, and she wailed, +"O my sons! My sons!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" warned the messenger, quickly. "Thy slaves will hear thee!" +</P> + +<P> +The mother seized the messenger's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me where my sons are," she begged. "I will go to them!" +</P> + +<P> +The messenger looked piercingly at her. He, a Christian, had risked +much to bring her this message. Dare he trust this woman, known to +be a devout worshiper of Egypt's gods? Would she not betray the +fleeing Christians? +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, my mother?" he asked gently.—See page 37. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me where my sons are!" besought the mother with tears. "Oh, +tell me! I cannot lose them! What is my home to me without them? I +will not betray any Christian! Only tell me; and let me see my sons +again!" +</P> + +<P> +Then the messenger saw in the mother's eyes that she spoke +truthfully, but he said, "How can I trust thee?" +</P> + +<P> +"I swear by Isis!" implored the mother. +</P> + +<P> +"Nay," returned, the messenger gravely, "it is not meet that a +Christian should bind any one by a heathen oath." +</P> + +<P> +The mother cried out, and besought him, declaring that she would +depart from Alexandria, if her sons could not dwell there. +</P> + +<P> +"They cannot, except they risk death," stated the messenger "Thou +knowest Timokles' life is forfeit. Knowest thou not how many +Christians have fled, and what torments Christians who have been +brought here from all Egypt have suffered? Wouldst thou thy two sons +should suffer in like manner?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will go into exile with them," answered the woman. +</P> + +<P> +"How wilt thou leave this, thy beautiful home?" asked the messenger. +</P> + +<P> +"I will leave it in the care of my kinsmen," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"It may never be thine again," warned the messenger. +</P> + +<P> +"Hear me, O Christian!", cried the mother passionately "I know not +the Christians' God, but the Emperor Severus shall not take away my +sons! I care not if he takes my home!" +</P> + +<P> +"Come then with us," answered the messenger. "I trust thee! May the +Christian's God cause thee to know Him!" +</P> + +<P> +That day there passed through Alexandria's streets a chariot drawn +by two mules. Seated in the chariot a lady and a child rode in +state. The charioteer was only a small lad. +</P> + +<P> +Out of the city by the eastern gate, as they had passed so many +times before, Cocce and her mother rode. Who would hinder so devout +worshipers of the gods from taking a pleasure drive? Alexandria knew +nothing yet of Heraklas' defection. +</P> + +<P> +When Alexandria was some distance behind, the lady spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop the chariot," she commanded. +</P> + +<P> +The young lad obeyed. The woman and child descended to the road. +</P> + +<P> +"I would walk," said the woman. "Drive thou home again, and say thou +naught. See, here is something for thee." +</P> + +<P> +She gave him some money. +</P> + +<P> +The lad did as he was bidden. The mother of Heraklas had known whom +to choose for her charioteer this day. +</P> + +<P> +The chariot receded. It passed out of sight. A distance away from +the road, a man rose and beckoned. It was the messenger of the +morning, disguised, as a beggar. +</P> + +<P> +They went northerly toward the sea. The mother's straining eyes +looked ever forward. How if the Christians had been discovered! How +long the way was! +</P> + +<P> +A faintness seized upon her as they neared the sea. What if her sons +were not there? She hurried forward. +</P> + +<P> +The sea splashed on the rocks at her feet. The salt splay blew in +her face. They were not here! They were not here! +</P> + +<P> +Out of the recesses of the rocks, some forms arose, and Heraklas, as +in a dream, saw his mother, his proud mother—she who had burned +incense to the sun, she who had once held the sacred sistrum in +Amun's temple, she who had taught him to worship Isis, and Osiris, +and Horus, and the River Nile—his mother throw her arms about +Timokles, and kiss his scarred cheek, and sob on the young +Christian's neck, "O my son, I have missed thee so! I have missed +thee so!" +</P> + +<P> +Some ten months later, on the desolate, uninhabited western shore of +what the Hebrews called "Yam Suph, the Sea of Weeds," known now as +the Red Sea, in the country spoken of by the Romans as part of +Ethiopia, now named Nubia, a little company of Christians made ready +their evening meal. +</P> + +<P> +Down on the shore a little girl sang. Her voice rose exultantly in a +hymn of the early Christians: +</P> + +<P> +"Blessed art thou, O Lord; teach me thy judgments. +</P> + +<P> +"O Lord, thou hast been a refuge for us from generation to +generation. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us. +</P> + +<P> +"Thou hast healed my soul in that I have sinned against thee." +</P> + +<P> +"O Lord, to thee I flee for refuge. Teach me to do thy will +Because thou art my God; Because thou art the fountain of life In +thy light shall we see light. Extend thy mercy to them that know +thee." +</P> + +<P> +Timokles went toward the shore to call Cocce. As he returned, he saw +his mother standing a little apart from the other Christians and +gazing toward the northwest, in the direction of Egypt, as she had +often gazed since the Christians took refuge here. +</P> + +<P> +"She misseth her home," thought the young man sadly. "It is but a +rough abiding-place here for her. And yet Severus hath not found us. +I would that she had come here for the love of Christ, and not for +love of her two sons, only! Then she would feel, as the others of us +do, that there is no one who hath left house or lands for our Lord's +sake, but receiveth a hundred-fold in this life, and in the world to +come life everlasting. Oh, I would that my mother might know how +near our Lord can be, even in this desert!" +</P> + +<P> +His mother had ceased to speak of Egypt's gods. She had even read +somewhat in the Christians' Book. But to Timokles she seemed no +nearer to accepting Christ than when she was in Alexandria. How +little we know of the heart-experiences of those persons nearest to +us! +</P> + +<P> +Timokles drew nearer. His mother heard his step, and turned toward +him, but in place of the homesick longing he had expected to see in +her eyes, there was a look that thrilled his soul. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, my mother?" he asked, gently. +</P> + +<P> +"Timokles," she answered softly, "I was thinking but now of +Alexandria and of our dear home there. Timokles, if God had not +driven me into the desert, would I ever have found him?" +</P> + +<P> +Timokles trembled with exceeding joy. Could she be speaking of the +real God, not of Egypt's idols? +</P> + +<P> +"Hast thou found Him—the Christian's God—my mother?" he asked +tremulously. +</P> + +<P> +A holy awe looked from his mother's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Did not his Son say, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast +out'?" she answered. "I have come to him, Timokles—even I, the +former worshiper of Isis—and he hath not cast me out." +</P> + +<P> +"O my mother!" murmured Timokles, overcome by the glad tidings. +"What more can I ask of him than this!" +</P> + +<P> +The sun sank, and Heraklas raised for the little company the evening +hymn of the early church. His mother's voice rose clear and sweet, +as all sang: +</P> + +<P> +"Children, praise the Lord, Praise ye the name of the Lord. We +praise thee, we hymn thee, we bless thee, Because of the greatness +of thy glory. O Lord the King, the Father of Christ, Of the spotless +Lamb who taketh away The sin of the world, To thee belongeth praise, +To thee belongeth song, To thee belongeth glory, to the God And +Father, through the Son, in the Spirit, To the Most Holy, unto ages +of ages. Amen." +</P> + +<P> +However long their exile might be, whatever privations they might +suffer in this desert place, the little company could sing their +praises with gratitude, for now not one voice of their number would +be silent. Here they would abide, telling of Christ to every heathen +wanderer whom they could seek out in these wilds. And if it should +please God that henceforth Egypt might never hold a home for them, +yet they could dwell in the deserts beyond Rome's dominion, knowing +that He who when on earth had no place to lay his head would be with +them. He had delivered the last one of the little company from the +snare of false gods. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="esvidos"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE SQUASH OF THE ESVIDOS. +</H2> + +<P> +Black dog slipped through a swinging gate and Miss Elizabeth +followed him into an olive, orchard of small dimensions. The family +to whom the black dog belonged was there. The father, Bernardo +Esvido, stood on a step-ladder, picking black olives into a bucket +half filled with water, the bucket being fastened to Mr. Esvido's +waist so that he might use both hands, while the water in the bucket +prevented the ripe olives from being bruised. He who picks ripe +olives into a hard bucket knows not his business. +</P> + +<P> +Beneath another olive tree sat the mother, the daughter, and the +son, washing olives in a water-trough. The small black dog raised +his voice, and did his best to inform the Esvidos that a stranger +eyed their olive-washing. +</P> + +<P> +"You read Portuguese?" asked Miss Elizabeth, smiling on the busy +group. Miss Elizabeth was not a book-agent, but, moved by the +religious destitution of the Portuguese, she had devised the plan of +buying at some city book-store Bibles or Testaments in Portuguese, +and then going into the surrounding country and hunting for +Portuguese who could read. To such, on account of their poverty, +Miss Elizabeth often sold for ten cents a Bible she had bought for +forty or sixty cents. She would gladly have given the Bibles free, +but from observation she had become persuaded that those Portuguese +who paid a few cents for a Bile were much more likely to read it +than were those to whom one was given for nothing. +</P> + +<P> +At Miss Elizabeth's question the united Esvido family looked at the +mother. She was the one reader of the group. Many Portuguese do not +read, either in English or in their own language. If a Portuguese +woman reads Portuguese, her neighbors perhaps know of her +accomplishment. Mr. Esvido was proud that his wife knew how to read +Portuguese even if he was ignorant. None of the family could read +English. +</P> + +<P> +"You like buy Biblia Sagrada?" (Holy Bible) questioned Miss +Elizabeth. "It is all Portuguese." +</P> + +<P> +The red book was passed to the mother, who shook olive-leaves and +dust from her hands, and took up the Bible. She had dimly known that +there was such a book. She remembered hearing of the Biblia Sagrada +years ago, when she was a girl in Lisbon, long before she came to +California; but none of her acquaintances had such a book, and she +had never before to-day seen a Portuguese Bible. +</P> + +<P> +But at last the book was handed back to Miss Elizabeth. +</P> + +<P> +"No money," carelessly explained Mr. Esvido. +</P> + +<P> +The oil-maker who bought the crops of the local olive-growers had +not yet paid for the olives. Even ten cents was not in Mr. Esvido's +pocket, just now. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Elizabeth looked around. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Esvido seemed +very anxious about the Bible, but Miss Elizabeth felt anxious for +them. A woman who could read Portuguese ought to have a Bible, and +she ought to pay something for it in order to interest her in it +thoroughly. Miss Elizabeth's eyes spied a yellow squash. She did not +want it, but it would be payment. +</P> + +<P> +"You give me squash, I give you Biblia Sagrada," she proposed. +</P> + +<P> +"How you take it?" asked Mr. Esvido, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Elizabeth opened her hands with a gesture that showed she meant +to carry the squash, hidden as much as possible under her short +cape. +</P> + +<P> +"We make trade," agreed Mr. Esvido; and Miss Elizabeth, leaving the +Bible, bore the big squash away. +</P> + +<P> +But Miss Elizabeth's yellow burden became very heavy before she had +gone far on the long country road. She found at last a wandering +piece of newspaper, which she wrapped over as much of the vegetable +as possible. The rest her cape covered, and then she marched on +toward the far wires of the electric car-line that had brought her +into the country. So vanished the squash of the Esvidos from their +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime the Portuguese mother read aloud from the Bible. The +daughter, Delpha, listened, while gently rubbing the black olives in +the water-trough. She knew of Christ, yet the words of the Biblia +Sagrada were unknown. +</P> + +<P> +After this, Mrs. Esvido read the book much in the evenings. Delpha +and Mr. Esvido listened, the father listening more because just now +he had not his pipe for company. The American who bought the olives +declared that no one who picked olives for him must smoke during +olive harvest! All his workmen, even when off duty, must refrain +from smoking, for the tobacco odor clung to clothing. The olives +would absorb tobacco smoke. The oil would be spoiled. Mr. Esvido +grumbled much, but obeyed. There was a warning in the fate of the +neighbor, Antone Ramos, who in last year's olive season had thought +one evening to smoke a pipeful of tobacco secretly, and lo! the +American, ever watchful, came to Antone Ramos' house that very +night, and the tobacco smoke was perceptible! Antone Ramos was +discharged! +</P> + +<P> +Therefore, during this year's olive harvest, Mr. Esvido, with a +cautious respect for the American's preternaturally, acute +perception concerning tobacco, refrained from smoking, and found +solace in listening with Delpha to Mrs. Esvido's evening readings +from the Biblia Sagrada. It seemed marvelous to Mr. Esvido that his +wife could read. The marvel of it had never lessened for him, and +one night he said proudly, "We make good bargain when we give squash +for Biblia Sagrada! Biblia Sagrada ver' good book." +</P> + +<P> +One day Mrs. Esvido read something that startled Delpha. Site could +hardly believe it possible that her mother hid read aright. +</P> + +<P> +The words in the Portuguese language were these: "Amai a vossos +inimigos, fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." (Love your enemies; do +good to them that hate you.) +</P> + +<P> +Alas! Delpha knew whom that meant. +</P> + +<P> +There had long been a deep-seated quarrel between her and Sara +Frates. Thinking of this bitter animosity, Delpha felt keenly the +command, "Fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." +</P> + +<P> +Olive harvest went on. The Esvido olives were gathered. Then Delpha +and Sara and others went to work in the American's costly olive-oil +mill, scalding the mill-stones and the crushing troughs daily, +sweeping the scraps of olive skins from the floors, and scalding the +floors to keep every odor away from the precious olive oil. Before +beginning this season, the walls of the building had been given a +coat of whitewash, and now a wood fire must not be lit anywhere near +the premises, for the precious olive oil might take a smoky taste. +</P> + +<P> +It was therefore with great wrath that Delpha, who was careful to +obey rules, found one day, in a crushing trough under her +supervision, some scattered little pieces of iron. Now iron must +never be allowed to come in contact with olive juice. The tannic +acid in the olive juice acts very rapidly on the iron, producing a +kind of ink, that turns the oil black and almost ruins it. The +American's crushing troughs and weights were of granite. Delpha was +sure Sara had scattered the pieces of iron in the crushing trough on +purpose to bring Delpha into trouble. +</P> + +<P> +"I do something to her!" resolved Delpha fiercely. "I pay her for +this!" +</P> + +<P> +Then she remembered, "Fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." (Do good to +them that hate you.) To Sara's amazement, Delpha did not retaliate. +Sara could not understand why. +</P> + +<P> +Toward the end of the olive season, the American went away for a +day. During the noon rest, Delpha, sitting in a side door, thought +she caught the odor of smoke. No wood fire was allowed around the +oil-mill! Delpha went out to investigate. +</P> + +<P> +She saw a film of smoke rising from a gulch. Delpha discovered that +some of the young mill-workers' friends had caught some fish in the +bay sparkling in the distance, and had brought them this way going +home. The American being absent, the young mill-workers and their +friends had made a fire in the gulch, and were merrily broiling +fish. Sara was there, disobeying rules with the others. +</P> + +<P> +Delpha ran back to the oil-mill. She hoped the fire's smoke would +not injure the oil. She was troubled as she dropped in the door. But +she could do nothing. +</P> + +<P> +By and by she heard screams. She sprang up. Sara came running around +the mill. Her dress was on fire! +</P> + +<P> +"Delpha! Delpha!" she screamed, "Delpha, help me!" She seemed crazed +with fright. +</P> + +<P> +"Fazei—bem—aos—que—vos—tem—odio!" +</P> + +<P> +Did a voice say it to Delpha? She snatched a great canvas bag used +for olive-picking, and a shawl. She ran to Sara. She breathlessly +tore at the blazing garments, rolling Sara in the shawl and canvas +bag. Blackened, sobbing, Sara lay at length safe on the ground. +Delpha ran for water and olive oil. +</P> + +<P> +As Delpha gently spread some olive oil on the burns, Sara flung her +arms about Delpha's neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Amiga!" (friend) she sobbed, and the enmity between the girls was +over. +</P> + +<P> +Miles away, Miss Elizabeth one day said to herself, "I don't believe +we can ever use that squash I brought home from those Portuguese! +But anyhow the squash made that Portuguese woman feel that she paid +for the Bible! I hope she reads it, poor soul!" +</P> + +<P> +But Miss Elizabeth did not know the whole story of the squash of the +Esvidos, or of the message that the Biblia had brought to Delpha's +heart. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="martin"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE VERSE MARTIN READ. +</H2> + +<P> +Martin put his bare feet down through the thick dust of the country +road. It was warm summer, and he was used to going barefoot, even to +Sunday-school, from which he was now returning. Over the hot, dry +grass of the fields there swayed at frequent intervals the heads of +California wild oats. One such stem grew near the road, and Martin, +with a quick sweep of his hand, pulled off the wild oat heads and +went on through the dusty road, scattering the oats as he walked. +Martin was thinking. +</P> + +<P> +"Teacher doesn't know how 'tis," he said. "I have to carry 'round +milk mornings and nights, and I have to go down to the barn to hunt +eggs, and I have to help pa about the stage horses, and sometimes I +have to ride the horses back to be shod, and I have to walk a mile +to day-school and back, and learn my lessons, and I'd like to know +how teacher thinks I've got much time to read the Bible some every +day. There's lots of days I don't believe pa reads any in the Bible. +He's too busy driving the stage and 'tending to the horses. And ma +doesn't read it, because she has to cook for the teamster boarders. +It's a real pretty book teacher's given me, though." +</P> + +<P> +Martin felt inside his jacket, and brought out a little New +Testament. It was only a ten-cent Testament, for Miss Bruce, his +Sunday-school teacher, did not have money enough to buy Bibles for +her class of thirteen boys. She had felt that she must do something, +however, for the boys were destitute of Bibles of their own. +</P> + +<P> +The best she could do was to buy small Testaments with red covers, +and she had cut a piece of bright red, inch-wide ribbon into +thirteen lengths, had raveled out the ends so as to make fringe, and +had put a piece of this fringed ribbon into each boy's New Testament +for a book-mark. The boys thought a great deal of the pieces of +ribbon, they were so bright and pretty. Miss Bruce had written some +special little message to each boy in the front of his Testament. +The general purport of each message was that the book was given with +the teacher's prayer that the boy might learn to love the Bible and +might become a real Christian. Some of the boys let the others read +what was written in the Testaments, and some boys did not. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Bruce had given them the Testaments to-day, and had said that +she hoped each boy would read a little, daily, in his Testament, +even if it were only two or three verses. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if teacher'll ask me next Sunday whether I've read any?" +Martin questioned himself now, as he admiringly eyed his piece of +red ribbon. "It'll be a shame if I have to tell her, the first +Sunday, that I've forgot it! I'd better read one verse now, so I can +say I read that, anyway, if I forget the rest of the week." +</P> + +<P> +Martin sat down beside the road. He was not a very good reader. This +was the first piece of the Bible Martin had ever owned. There was an +old, unused family Bible at home. A red Testament, was much more +attractive to Martin. +</P> + +<P> +"Where'll I read?" Martin asked himself now. "I want an easy verse. +Some of them look too hard." +</P> + +<P> +He began and dropped several verses, because of their difficulty. +Finally he settled on one, because of its shortness. He read its +seven words haltingly but carefully. +</P> + +<P> +"'L-e-s-t'—I don't know that +word—'c-o-m-i-n-g'—coming—'s-u-d-d-e-n-l-y—he find you +s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g.' 'Lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping.'" +</P> + +<P> +Of the connection of the verse, and its spiritual significance, +Martin knew nothing. The word "l-e-s-t" puzzled him. He would ask +somebody about it. +</P> + +<P> +When he helped his father with the horses at the barn that evening, +Martin questioned his father about the word "l-e-s-t." +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you spelled it wrong?" asked his father. "I guess it's +'l-e-a-s-t'—'least'—smallest." +</P> + +<P> +"It's in my new red book," answered Martin, perching on the watering +trough. "I'll find the place." +</P> + +<P> +Martin did not know much about New Testament books or chapters, but +he knew that verse was on the eighty-second page. Martin had noted +the little numbers at the bottom of the pages. +</P> + +<P> +"Here 'tis!" triumphantly exclaimed Martin. +</P> + +<P> +His father took the book. Martin's eager finger pointed to the +verse. +</P> + +<P> +"Lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping." +</P> + +<P> +The words faced the stage-driver. Well did he know their meaning. +Years ago in his mother's home he had been taught from the Bible. +His eyes now ran over the preceding verses. He caught parts of them. +"The Son of man is as a man taking a far journey." "Watch ye +therefore." "Ye know not when the master of the house cometh." "Lest +coming suddenly, he find you sleeping." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know what 'l-e-s-t' means?" asked Martin, eager for the +explanation. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—why, yes," responded his father. "It means 'For fear' he should +come suddenly." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" asked Martin. +</P> + +<P> +"The Lord," returned his father gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't they be sleeping?" asked Martin. +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" said his father, turning to attend to the horses. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," said Martin. "I mean my verse." +</P> + +<P> +"Martin," stated the stage-driver, "I'm no hand at explaining. Don't +ask any more questions." +</P> + +<P> +Every Sunday after this Miss Bruce persisted in asking whether the +boys read in their Testaments. +</P> + +<P> +"It's mean the way some of the boys don't read any, after her giving +us all nice red Testaments," Martin told his father. "I don't read +much, but I ought to read some, after her fringing that red ribbon! +Most verses I read are short, like 'Lest coming suddenly, he find +you sleeping.'" +</P> + +<P> +The stage-driver moved uneasily at the words. +</P> + +<P> +"He hasn't forgot that verse after all these weeks?" thought the +man. +</P> + +<P> +"I know what that verse means now," went on Martin. "Miss Bruce told +me. She says some folks forget they've got to die, and they ought to +be ready for that. A good many folks don't become Christians, and +Miss Bruce says she's afraid they'll be like that verse, 'Lest +coming suddenly, he find you sleeping.' You and I won't be that way, +will we, father? I'm going to try to be ready. Ain't you? Miss Bruce +says folks ought to always be." +</P> + +<P> +His father's eyes were on the harness he was buckling. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you'll be ready, Martin," answered the father, "even if I +ain't." +</P> + +<P> +The place where Martin lived was a small settlement distant from +town. Martin's father, Mr. Colver, not only three days in the week +drove the stage, but other days acted as a sort of expressman, +bringing freight in a large wagon over the miles from town. One +night about nine o'clock, Mr. Colver was on the long, lonely road +coming toward home. He had a very heavy load on his wagon. The +wheels scraped on the wagon bottom, and the team went with a heavy, +dragging sound. +</P> + +<P> +As the heavy wagon came opposite a clump of white blossoming buckeye +trees, one of the fore wheels of the dragging wagon suddenly gave +way and fell off. Mr. Colver was thrown violently from the wagon's +high seat into the road, among the tumbling heavy boxes and barrels. +The sharp corner of one box struck Mr. Colver's head near the +temple. +</P> + +<P> +The weary horses waited to be urged forward again. They did not know +that their driver lay insensible in the road. +</P> + +<P> +It was early gray morning before one of the teamsters who boarded at +the Colvers' found Mr. Colver lying still insensible, and brought +him home. The blow on the head had been a very dangerous one. Martin +gazed awestruck at his father's shut eyes and unconscious face. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if pa's going to die?" the boy anxiously thought. "I +wonder if pa's ready?" +</P> + +<P> +The sorrowful hours came and went. Mr. Colver regained +consciousness, but for weeks he felt the effects of the blow that +might have smitten him never to rise. +</P> + +<P> +One night when Martin was going to his room, his father called +weakly to the boy. +</P> + +<P> +Martin turned back. He found his mother sitting beside his father. +</P> + +<P> +"Martin," said his father with grave earnestness, "your mother's +been reading to me from your Testament. We've been talking about +Bible things that we haven't paid much attention to. We were both +brought up better, Martin. The Lord's had mercy upon me. He might +have taken me suddenly that night, but he knew I wasn't ready, and +he had mercy on me. And now, lad, your mother and I thought we would +just kneel right down here to-night, and ask the Lord to take each +of us, and make us his own. You want to, don't you, my son?" +</P> + +<P> +Martin nodded, and for the first time the stage-driver's family +knelt together. They whose souls had been sleeping were awake. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="bytheway"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BY THE WAY. +</H2> + +<P> +Cliffs by the blue bay held many fossil shells. Children sometimes +strayed here and there with hammers, pounding out fossils from +fallen pieces of the cliffs. On the extent of sands that bordered +the cliffs and stretched up the coast between them and the breakers, +old stumps that had been months before brought in by the waves lay +half buried from sight. A short distance farther up the coast, the +sands went a greater way inland, forming a nook where driftwood and +stumps had accumulated. On the sand in this nook stood a horse and +an old wagon. Beyond a large log, a little fire of driftwood had +been started, and a woman was endeavoring to fry some fish in a +spider. Two children had partly unharnessed the horse, and were +giving him some dry grass. +</P> + +<P> +From afar, a woman and a girl who had been taking a walk on a road +high up on the cliffs, looked curiously down at the persons in the +sandy nook. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder who they are, and what they are traveling that way for?" +said the girl to her mother. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the same wagon that was on, the sands last night, I suppose," +returned her mother. "The milk boy said he saw a wagon drive on the +beach about dark. I wonder if they stayed up here all night? Suppose +we walk down, Addie, and talk with that woman." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid she won't want to see us," objected the daughter. "If +they had wanted to see anybody, they'd have stopped at the +settlement." +</P> + +<P> +Notwithstanding this objection, the mother began to descend the path +toward the sands at the bottom of the cliffs. Both Mrs. Weeks and +her daughter Addie were somewhat breathless by the time they had +pushed their way through the heavy white sand to the spot where the +stranger, was cooking. The spider contained only a few very small +fish. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-morning," said Mrs. Weeks, pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +The brown-faced woman who held the spider lifted her eyes and +nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you been fishing?" asked Mrs. Weeks. +</P> + +<P> +"We didn't have much luck," murmured the other woman. "Maybe we +didn't fish in the best place. Tillie was wanting fish." +</P> + +<P> +The younger of the two children colored and hung her head at this +reference to her. The other smiled shyly. +</P> + +<P> +"We have some fresh rock cod up at our house. My brother catches +fresh fish for us every day," said Addie to the older little girl. +"Don't you want to walk back with me, and, get some of the fish for +your mother?" +</P> + +<P> +The child nodded. "We're not beggars, Miss. You must not rob +yourself of your own fish," remonstrated, the child's mother; but +Addie assured the woman that fish were so plentiful in the +settlement that neighbors often gave part of the results of a catch +to some one else. +</P> + +<P> +The girl went away over the cliffs with the child. Mrs. Weeks sat +down on a log. When Addie and the little girl came back with the +fish and some milk, Mrs. Weeks rose and went home with her daughter. +</P> + +<P> +"The woman's husband is dead, and she's driving north with her +children," Mrs. Weeks told Addie. "She has an idea she can get work +in some cannery up the coast. I told her there were some unoccupied +tents in our settlement, and I wished she and the children would +come and sleep in the tents, while she's here. But she won't come. I +was sorry they slept on the beach last night, but she says they are +used to sleeping in the wagon, and it is warm weather, you know." +</P> + +<P> +The wagon did not drive on that day, though the woman and the +children kept away from the little summer settlement. +</P> + +<P> +It was the custom of the people of this small settlement to go down +on the beach, after dark at evening, and have a camp-fire. Some old +stump would be lit, and the people would sit on logs or on the +sand about the fire, and talk and sing. The last thing, every night, +hymns were sung. +</P> + +<P> +To-night, Addie and her, mother went down to the beach as usual. +After sitting by the fire awhile, Addie rose and wandered up the +beach, as persons sometimes did, to watch the waves. At a distance +from the camp-fire, where the darkness, covered the beach, Addie +turned to go back. She was startled by a movement in the darkness. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be afraid," said the voice of the woman who, with her +children, had spent that day in the nook farther up the beach. "The +little girls were asleep, and I came here to listen to the folks +sing. That's the reason I haven't driven on to-day, because I hoped +the folks would sing again to-night, the way they did last night. I +haven't heard hymn-singing for years, before. I've lived in mining +and such places. I want to ask you a question." +</P> + +<P> +The woman paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you suppose my baby's at the River?" she went on. +</P> + +<P> +Addie hardly comprehended the woman's meaning. +</P> + +<P> +"What river?" asked the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"The River they sang about last night," explained the woman. +</P> + +<P> +She motioned toward the group at the distant camp-fire, and Addie +remembered that on the previous evening the people had sung: +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we gather at the river?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't heard that sung before for years and years," the woman +continued. "We used to sing it when I was a little girl at home in +the East, but I've mostly forgot such things. Mining camps and a +drunk husband make you forget. There never was a church anywhere we +lived, and Sam got drunk Sundays. And then he died. I don't suppose +Sam got to the River. I don't know. I wish he did. But if my baby's +got there, I want to go to the River." +</P> + +<P> +The woman began to sob. +</P> + +<P> +"I never told you about my baby." she faltered. "He was a dreadful +nice little—" +</P> + +<P> +"Good-morning!" said Mrs. Weeks pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"—baby. I've got some of his things in a little box in the wagon. He +died after his father did. I wouldn't feel acquainted with the +saints that the folks sang gather at the River; but I'd feel +acquainted with my baby. He's there, isn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Addie softly, "your baby's by the River, and you can go +there, too." +</P> + +<P> +The woman tried to control her sobs and listen, while Addie told in +as simple language as she could the way to peace. +</P> + +<P> +"It's just coming to Christ, just as we are, and asking him to make +us his," finished the girl. "He's promised to forgive, if we're in +earnest about asking." +</P> + +<P> +Addie waited a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you'd be willing to come to the camp-fire with me," suggested +Addie. "Those people are only, some of our neighbors. They like +these open-air meetings. Perhaps they'd make the way clearer to +you." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said the woman hastily. "No, I'm not fit for such folks, but +would you mind doing one thing for me? Will you go back and just sit +down, careless like, on one of the logs there by the fire, as if +you'd got back from going down to see the breakers roll in, the way +some of the folks do? And don't let anybody know you've seen me at +all! Don't say one word about me, but when they get through singing +some hymn, won't you just start them singing, 'Shall we gather at +the River'? I want to hear it once again, but don't let them know +they're singing it for me! Will you manage it the way I want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," promised Addie. +</P> + +<P> +The girl went back and sat down on a log beside the fire, with the +other people. The fire was beginning to burn low, and the girl was +fearful lest at the end of the hymn that was being sung, some one +should make a move to go back to the encampment. As soon as she +could Addie began: +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we gather at the river?" +</P> + +<P> +The other voices took up the hymn. No one noticed that Addie's voice +soon faltered and was still. +</P> + +<P> +"Shall we gather at the river, Where bright angel-feet have trod: +With its crystal tide forever Flowing by the throne of God?" +</P> + +<P> +The words rang, out clear and sweet, and then the joyful assurance +broke forth: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, we'll gather at the river, The beautiful, the beautiful river. +Gather with the saints at the river That flows by the throne of +God." +</P> + +<P> +The words of stanza after stanza floated out into the darkness of +the cliffs and upper sands with a distinctness that the loud waves +did not overcome. There was no form or, motion visible in all the +night that hid the shoreward side of the beach. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning Addle went from the settlement, to carry the woman +and her children some milk. When the girl reached the nook, she +found it empty. She ran upon the bluffs, and looked northward, but +there was neither horse nor wagon visible. The mother, and children +had evidently resumed their journey very early, and the turns of the +country roads had hidden the travelers. They had vanished forever. +</P> + +<P> +"God guide them to the River!" whispered Addie. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="harriet"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +AT COUSIN HARRIET'S +</H2> + +<P> +The "filaree," or pinclover; had borne its seeds with curious long +ends—those seeds that California children call "clocks"—and among +THE filaree there stood, on slender, bare stems, small flowers of +the lily family which are known as "bluebells." A boy was walking +through the filaria. He was carrying a hatchet and an ax, and he +looked tired, though it was early in the day. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess Cousin Harriet doesn't know how hard working on the alkali +patch is," he murmured softly. "She isn't like mother:" +</P> + +<P> +The boy's head dropped, and a sob escaped him. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish mother hadn't died;" he said chokingly. "Most every boy has +a mother." +</P> + +<P> +He tried to stop crying, but it was hard, for he was overworked, and +he was only twelve years old. +</P> + +<P> +Six months before this, his mother had died. Several weeks alter her +death, Claude's father had been called East on business; and had +left the boy and his younger sisters Rose and Daisy on a ranch owned +by Cousin Harriet, several miles from the children's former home. It +had been very hard for the children to part from their father so +soon after their mother's death, but he told them that while the +business that called him East would take a number of months, yet +there was some prospect that their mother's own sister, Aunt Jennie, +with her husband and little boy, would come with Claude's father on +his return. Then they could all live together at the dear home +place. So the stay at Cousin Harriet's would not probably be +perpetual. +</P> + +<P> +Cousin Harriet was a widow. She looked after her ranch with great +diligence. She had several hired men and women, and the ranch was a +very busy place. Cousin Harriet was not much used to children, +having none of her own, but she tried to do her duty by the three +left in her charge. Rose and Daisy did not find the household tasks +that were assigned them very difficult. Cousin Harriet secretly did +not like boys, however. She tried to treat Claude justly, but the +boy sadly missed the mother-love to which he had been accustomed all +his life. He was expected to help the hired men on the ranch, and +they made him work rather hard, especially since they had been +fixing the "alkali patch." +</P> + +<P> +The alkali patch was in the southwest corner of Cousin Harriet's +ranch. On several acres, nothing would grow, on account of the +alkali in the soil. The alkali stood on the ground in white patches +here and there, and Claude hated the sight of it. Cousin Harriet, +however, was very enthusiastic about trying to reclaim this "alkali +sink," so that it might bear crops. +</P> + +<P> +Alkali extended over the fields of adjoining neighbors, and Cousin +Harriet thought that if only her hired men could conquer her alkali +patch, then the discouraged neighbors might think it possible to do +something with such parts of their land, also. So, one of the first +things that was done with Cousin Harriet's "alkali sink" was to make +some redwood drains, shaped like the letter V, and place these about +three feet below the surface. A "sump," or drainage pit, was dug, +too, into which the drains might discharge the alkali water. The +hired men expected Claude to help dig the "sump," and it proved +quite hard work. So did the pounding of the "hard pan" on the alkali +tract, itself. The tough, hard clods of earth were so difficult to +pulverize that they had to be pounded with crowbars and axes. +</P> + +<P> +"I used to think that helping pick lemons, at home, was work," +Claude thought to-day, as he went toward the part of the ranch where +he was expected to work, "but I didn't know about alkali patches, +then. And—I had mother." +</P> + +<P> +The tears would come into his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The hired men were scattered over the extensive alkali tract, and +were pounding the clods. Claude chose to work near a man called +Neil. The boy liked Neil better than the other men, because he did +not speak crossly. +</P> + +<P> +Claude sorrowfully pounded the alkali clods. How tiresome the work +was, and how uncomfortably warm the sun! The boy worked dejectedly. +After a while, pausing to take breath, he looked up and found Neil +also pausing. +</P> + +<P> +"We are tired," said Neil, with a friendly smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you hate this work?" exclaimed Claude vehemently. "I wouldn't +touch it, if Cousin Harriet didn't make me." +</P> + +<P> +The hired man looked kindly at the small, tired boy. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not most pleasant," he returned, "but what I think of makes +me glad while I work." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of?" asked Claude, giving an alkali clod a push. +</P> + +<P> +"I was thinking," answered Neil gently, "how once I had a hard +heart—very hard. It was like these clods, where nothing good can +grow. People who looked at me could see that my heart was hard. Men +would have said, 'Neil's heart can never be different' But Jesus +took away my hard heart and gave me a new one. That is what makes me +glad all the time, though I work on these hard alkali clods. Some +day this patch we work on will be different. There will be +beautiful, green, growing crops on it. But that is not so great a +change as it is to change a hard heart and get a new heart from our +Savior." +</P> + +<P> +Claude did not say anything. He bent over the hard clods and worked +silently, but he was not thinking of his work. He was remembering +his mother's voice as it had sounded nights when she had knelt +beside his bed and prayed that her boy might become a Christian. +There had been one night that Claude would always remember, when his +mother had come for the last time to his bedside, and prayed feebly +for her boy. The next week she had died. +</P> + +<P> +Claude looked up at Neil, now. The man evidently found the work +hard, but his face showed that he had spoken truly when he said that +he was glad, even though he did work on the hard, alkali clods. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I were like Neil," thought Claude. +</P> + +<P> +The wish grew. It changed into an earnest prayer, not that he might +be like Neil, but a prayer for the same blessing that Neil had—a +new heart. No earnest prayer for that gift is ever met by a refusal. +Neil watched Claude anxiously, as they worked day by day. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't change ourselves, any more than this alkali plot can +change itself," said Neil, "but we can yield ourselves and our life +to the blessed Jesus and love him, for he is love." +</P> + +<P> +One day, Claude said softly, "I've done it, Neil. I've given myself +to Jesus." +</P> + +<P> +The face of the hired man glowed with added happiness through the +toiling days that followed. When the alkali clods were broken and +plowed, gypsum was scattered on the land and harrowed in. Then water +was turned on and allowed to stand several inches deep over the +alkali plot. The water stood for several weeks. Gradually it soaked +through the soil and passed out into the drainage pit. After several +soakings, alternating with breaking of clods and treatment with +gypsum, the former alkali patch was given some seed. How the men +watched the land day after day, and how the first green sprouts of +corn were hailed! The alkali patch was changed. Cousin Harriet was +rejoiced. +</P> + +<P> +"There's so much land saved," she said. "It's a great change." +</P> + +<P> +Neil listened to the words as in a parable. He was thinking of a +greater change. He was rejoicing over the boy of the household. +</P> + +<P> +Months had gone by. One day there was a joyful outcry at the +farm-house. The little girls rushed out to meet their father. With him +was their mother's sister, Aunt Jennie, with her husband and little +boy. +</P> + +<P> +Claude was on the ranch at work, and did not hear the joyful outcry +at first. +</P> + +<P> +He was not aware of the new-comers, till his father and the two +little girls rushed where Claude was working, and the boy's father +caught him in a close embrace. +</P> + +<P> +"Come and see Aunt Jennie," his father said to Claude. +</P> + +<P> +"She-she looks like, mamma," whispered Rose tremulously, and Claude +came somewhat bashfully into the house. +</P> + +<P> +There he saw a woman whose face did indeed look, like his mother's, +and he felt mother-arms put around him. He heard a voice like his +mother's say, "Is this my boy?" He felt a warm teardrop on his +cheek, and he knew that Aunt Jennie understood and cared for boys, +and that he would be indeed "her boy." +</P> + +<P> +That afternoon they all drove away from the ranch, leaving Cousin +Harriet smitten with a sudden sense of loneliness, for she had even. +grown attached to Claude as well as to his sisters. The boy looked +back at the ranch. It was rapidly being left behind, but he could +still see the green patch of corn that covered the place where the +alkali used to be. Rut the boy was, not thinking of the alkali patch +alone. A look of reverent thankfulness came into his face. "Mother +will be glad I ever met Neil," he thought. +</P> + +<P> +TWO small brown hands were held outstretched in the air. Cautiously +they moved forward, lower and lower. Then they darted and grasped +with speed what seemed to be some sand. Something in the sand +objected, but the boy held on and gathered sand and all into his +tin. He looked with much satisfaction at his presumably indignant +prisoner, a spiny gray "horned toad" that had been peaceably sunning +himself, nearly buried in sand, on the hill. +</P> + +<P> +The owner of the two nimble hands, Arturo, smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Get four bit, maybe!" he anticipated. +</P> + +<P> +"Get four bit for tia Marta!" +</P> + +<P> +In California "four bits" means a half dollar. Occasionally somebody +on the overland train that stopped at the station in town would be +attracted toward a spiny "horned toad" as a curiosity, and would buy +one. Arturo meant to try to sell this specimen in that way. If he +got the money, he would give it to tia Marta. +</P> + +<P> +Tia Mama was Arturo's aunt. "Tia" means "aunt" in Spanish. +Presumably for the reason that nephews are sometimes troublesome to +their aunts, there is a Spanish proverb that warns a nephew against +making his aunt too frequent visits: +</P> + +<P> +En casa de tia, Mas no cads dia:' ("In the house of thy aunt, But +not every day.") Notwithstanding this adage, however, the boy Arturo +lived with his Aunt Marta. This was not always pleasant, for neither +Arturo nor tia Marta was perfect. Yet they really thought a good +deal of each other. The third member of the household was Tia +Marta's husband, do (uncle) Diego, but he was very old and lame, and +could not work. Tia Marta earned the living, and Arturo usually +thought of himself as dwelling with tia Marta rather than do Diego. +Arturo never quarreled with his uncle. +</P> + +<P> +When the overland train stopped at the station for water, and Arturo +rushed breathlessly to sell his horned toad, the eager boy found no +passenger who was desirous of being a customer save an old gentleman +who doubtfully offered twenty-five cents for the creature. 'Arturo +stuck bravely to his intended price of "four bits," but the train +creaked for starting, and, alarmed, the boy hastily handed over the +toad, took the quarter of a dollar, and rushed off the train. +</P> + +<P> +The old gentleman shouted from the platform for instructions as to +feeding his pet, 'axed Arturo shouted back advice in broken English +to let it catch "muchos, muchos" (many) flies, and have "mucho, +mucho" air. The toad was in a pasta-board box at present. Arturo was +anxious that it should be well treated, for the boy felt it would +not be fair to make the creature a prisoner, and then sell it to +somebody who would starve it. +</P> + +<P> +The old gentleman seemed satisfied with the shouted directions. But +when the train had puffed away, Arturo sat down and wrathfully +looked at his quarter of a dollar. +</P> + +<P> +"He had altos pesos!" Arturo muttered; "ought give four bit." +</P> + +<P> +According to Arturo's belief, every American had in his possession +"altos pesos," which is Spanish for "high" or "enormous" "dollars," +or, as Americans say, "a pile of money." Therefore Arturo felt sure +that the old gentleman ought to have given half a dollar for the +horned toad. +</P> + +<P> +Arturo was now not at all inclined to give tia Marta the twenty-five +cents. He wanted the money himself. Tia Marta was going to wash for +somebody to-day, and would get her pay. +</P> + +<P> +What should he buy? Twenty-five cents must not be spent lightly. It +was not so often that a horned toad was found or sold. +</P> + +<P> +Arturo did not muse long alone. Another boy had heard Arturo's +shouted advice to the old gentleman, and had told two or three +comrades. They came about Arturo to proffer advice. "Bollos," or +cakes, were joyfully suggested, but Arturo refused. +</P> + +<P> +An older Spanish boy, Manuel, joined the company. He was a lazy +fellow, whom a good many of the younger boys admired because he +could play a guitar and because he wore cheap jewelry that seemed +gorgeous to inexperienced eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Manuel approved of Arturo's rejection of the cake proposition. What +good was cake? It would be soon eaten and gone! +</P> + +<P> +Manuel, who was ever bent on securing any money that he could obtain +without work, proposed to Arturo that he should buy a certain +watch-chain owned by himself. Manuel, who knew that the showy thing was +worthless, tried to picture how a fine-looking boy like Arturo would +appear with so gorgeous an ornament. The younger boys listened +enviously, and Arturo's Spanish love of display began to glow. Yet +he was cautious enough to put off Manuel till the next day. Arturo +went away, leaving the younger boys gazing enviously after him. His +pride was flattered. +</P> + +<P> +As Arturo came into the little yard that was about his humble home, +he heard tia Marta singing. Arturo always dreaded to hear her sing, +because then he was sure that some calamity had occurred. Tia Marta +fully believed in the Spanish saying, "He who sings frightens away +his ills." +</P> + +<P> +It was as Arturo thought. Tia Marta had failed to get the day's +washing she had expected to have. This seemed very unfortunate, for +there was but little in the house to eat. Beans, one of the main +staples of food among the Mexicans, were almost gone from the +household supplies, and there was no money to buy more. Tia Marta +had cooked the last of the beans for supper. The uncle and aunt gave +fully half the beans to Arturo, and, being hungry, he ate them. Tia +Marta ate little, and urged the rest of the beans on tio Diego. +</P> + +<P> +After supper, the aunt repeated with devout cheerfulness those +Spanish sayings, "God sends the sore, and knows the medicine," and +"God sends the cold according to our rags." She believed that God +would help. +</P> + +<P> +Arturo thought of the twenty-five cents in his pocket. He looked at +old tio Diego. Arturo wondered if his uncle were really hungry. +Beans! Twenty-five cents would buy beans enough for a number of +days. But it would be such a downfall to buy only beans with that +twenty-five cents! Tia Marta would probably find some washing soon, +and would buy beans herself. Arturo had had enough supper to-night. +</P> + +<P> +Next day Arturo bought the watch-chain. The little boys at school +were overawed by his showy ornament, but the teacher thought +laughingly, "How these Spanish do like to dress up!" +</P> + +<P> +At night, when Arturo went home with his watch-chain hidden in his +pocket, tia Marta was singing again. There was only a little bread +and some dried figs for supper, and Arturo's healthy boyish appetite +already began to make him sorry for his bargain. +</P> + +<P> +The next day tia Marta sang, and there were only dried figs to eat +all day. The next day there were figs for breakfast and figs at +noon. Even dried figs were almost gone. +</P> + +<P> +At night, however, tia Marta said joyfully, "I got wash to-morrow!" +</P> + +<P> +Arturo felt relieved. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning there were only two or three figs apiece. When +Arturo came home at noon, he found frightened tio Diego crying +feebly and leaning over tia Marta, who had sunk in the door-way. +Scantily fed tia Marta's strength had given out in the midst of the +washing. She said she was only dizzy, but Arturo was frightened by +her looks. Suddenly it came to him that he loved her. +</P> + +<P> +Arturo ran out of the house. He ran to a little grocery, and begged +the grocer to take the watch-chain for some beans. The grocer only +laughed, telling the boy the chain was worthless. But Arturo was +desperate. He knew better than to go to Manuel. Manuel would have +spent the twenty-five cents long ago, and Arturo pleaded with the +grocer. The grocer's wife was in and out, looking after her romping +children. She held the worthless, gaudy chain before her black-eyed +baby, who clutched it and laughed. The mother laughed, too. Her +husband laughed. The baby kept the chain, and crowed. +</P> + +<P> +The grocer's wife filled a big paper bag with beans, and gave it, +with a loaf of bread, to Arturo. The boy clasped the packages, and +ran. +</P> + +<P> +At home he found tia Marta sitting still with shut eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Eat!" cried Arturo, thrusting the loaf into her hands. +</P> + +<P> +Tio Diego laughed with joy and put the beans to cooking. Arturo +stayed home from school that afternoon, and helped wash. To-morrow +the pay would come. Tio Diego tried lamely to help Arturo wash. +</P> + +<P> +Tia Marta was feeling better, and had just declared her intention of +washing, when Arturo suddenly forsook the tub and dropped beside +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Me malo, malo!" (bad) he sobbed. +</P> + +<P> +He cried bitterly, and told tia Marta about the watch-chain. +</P> + +<P> +Old tia Marta looked pityingly at her shamefaced nephew. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor child!" she said, "thou art young." +</P> + +<P> +But when next day the school teacher asked Arturo the reason of his +absence from school the previous afternoon, and he had confessed the +whole story, the teacher said, "Arturo, it is more beautiful to have +a heart of love toward others than it is to wear a watch-chain even +of real gold. Will you remember that?" +</P> + +<P> +Arturo promised, and the teacher said to herself: +</P> + +<P> +"I will see that tia Marta does not come to such straits again." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="comale"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +COMALE'S REVENGE +</H2> + +<P> +The Waves splashed on the bold rocks that guard the little harbor +of Colombo on the southwest shore of the island of Ceylon. Groves of +palm trees looked down on the one-story houses of the town. Upon a +rock outside of Colombo stood a barefoot boy, his dark eyes gazing +toward the tropically green mountains of the island. His attention +was particularly riveted on one of the highest peaks, that one which +is known to English-speaking people as "Adam's Peak," and which is +reverenced by natives as being the traditional spot from which +Buddha ascended to heaven. +</P> + +<P> +"The butterflies are making their pilgrimage to the holy footprint," +murmured the boy, Comale, to himself. +</P> + +<P> +He could see from his standpoint great streams of butterflies, +taking their flight apparently from all parts of the island, and +going toward the famous Peak. These flights of butterflies, +occurring occasionally in Ceylon, have won for the butterflies +themselves the name of "Samanaliya," since it is thought that the +heathen god, Saman, left his footprint on the mountain, and the +butterflies, like devout beings, take pains to go on pilgrimage to +the holy footprint. +</P> + +<P> +Comale himself knew better than to believe in this old heathen tale, +yet he never saw the myriads of flying butterflies without +remembering what he had been taught in his earlier years, before +Christianity came under the high-pitched roof where Comale's father +and mother lived. +</P> + +<P> +Long time did Comale stand on the rock and gaze at the vast numbers +of flying, winged "pilgrims." The butterflies seemed countless, and +at last Comale, sighing a little, said, "They are very good," and, +jumping from his rock, made haste toward the cinnamon gardens where +he worked. +</P> + +<P> +Comale was a "peeler." In the perfectly white soil around the city +of Colombo, the cinnamon tree flourishes as well as, if not better +than, in any other place in the world. It requires much practice to +become a skillful peeler of cinnamon, but Comale, having been taught +by his father, and being moreover a careful, observing lad, was fast +attaining a degree of success in his trade. Formerly the Cingalese +had allowed the cinnamon trees to grow to their natural height, +about twenty or thirty feet, and naturally the cinnamon bark from +such trees had been tough. This was long ago, however, before even +the Dutch owned Colombo. Better wisdom came with them, and in these +later days of English rule, sensible ideas still prevailed. The +cinnamon trees were kept pruned, and the comparatively young shoots +were found to produce better cinnamon than old trees had done. +</P> + +<P> +Comale, arriving at the gardens, began to work. The branches he +chose for cutting were about three feet long and were the growth of +from three to five years. +</P> + +<P> +Comale made longitudinal cuts in the bark, two cuts in a small +shoot, more cuts in a large shoot, and then with his instrument +carefully removed the bark strips. +</P> + +<P> +He placed the pieces of bark in bundles, in which shape the cinnamon +was to stay for a while, that it might ferment, so that the outer +skin and the under green portion might be more easily scraped away +by Comale with a curved knife. After that, the inner cinnamon bark +would dry and draw up, till the pieces looked like quills. But ever, +as Comale worked this day, something inly disturbed his thoughts. He +was very unhappy. +</P> + +<P> +"Comale," warned his father sharply, "that was a bad cut! Be more +careful!" +</P> + +<P> +Comale's father was attending to some bark that had dried to quills. +He was putting small cinnamon quills into larger ones, till he made +a collection about forty inches long. Then he would bind the +cinnamon into bundles by pieces of split bamboo. But Comale's father +kept an eye on his son's work, also. +</P> + +<P> +Comale was much abashed at his father's reproof. For a time the lad +kept his mind upon the cinnamon. Then his thoughts went back to +their old uncomfortable vein, for he found in a tree a little bundle +of sticks from four to six inches long, all the sticks placed +lengthwise, the whole looking like a small bunch of firewood. Comale +knew what this bundle was, well enough, for many a time he had found +this kind of a nest of the larva of a moth. He knew it was lined +with fine spun silk, and that the heathen people said that the moth +used once to be a real person who stole wood, and who, having died, +came back to earth again in the form of a moth, condemned, for the +former theft, to make little bunches of firewood. Comale sighed as +he touched the little bundle hanging from the tree. +</P> + +<P> +He thought of the "good" butterflies that he had that morning seen +going on "pilgrimage." +</P> + +<P> +"Some people are good, and some people are bad," thought Comale +sadly. "The butterflies go on pilgrimage, but the bad moth's little +bundle of firewood hangs in the tree. I wish I did not always do +something bad!" +</P> + +<P> +Ordinarily he would not have cared for the acts of either moth or +butterfly, but to-day there was in Comale's heart a sense of guilt +that found accusation from unwonted sources. +</P> + +<P> +"Comale!" warned his father again, "another false cut!" +</P> + +<P> +Tears of mortification sprang to the lad's eyes. Never had ha seemed +to himself to be so awkward a peeler. It was something beside +awkwardness that ailed Comale's hand to-day. He was worrying over +the possible consequences of a deed of his. +</P> + +<P> +That morning, he and his sister Pidura, who was about his own age, +had quarreled. They did not quarrel as often now as they used to +before Pidura and he knew anything about the way to be a Christian. +They tried to be patient, usually, but this morning there had been a +sharp quarrel between the two about the rice for breakfast. After +breakfast, Comale, still feeling very angry, had gone into the +veranda that each one-story house possesses. This veranda was +overshadowed by the high-pitched roof, and while, inside the house, +there was matting on the floor, as in Cingalese houses, the veranda +had a rough material made from the husks of the cocoanut. This +material was so placed as to prevent serpents from crawling into the +house. Ceylon has many serpents, and Pidura, Comale's sister, was +very much afraid of them. As Comale, yet very angry with his sister, +stood in the veranda, it occurred to him that if he pulled away some +of the rough cocoanut material, he might leave a place where a +serpent could come into the house and scare Pidura. It would be good +enough for her, he thought; and not pausing to reason about the +consequences of his action, he pulled away the rough material till +he left quite a space undefended. He did not believe that Padura +would notice it. +</P> + +<P> +He could see her, busy in the kitchen, which is a house separate +from a Cingalese dwelling. Her plump, pleasant face bent over the +fire, and then again she turned away, her light jacket and striped +skirt vanishing toward another corner of the kitchen. Comale half +laughed as he thought how scared she would be if a little serpent +should find the opening he had made. Then he ran away. +</P> + +<P> +But now, since beginning his day's work, his quarrel and the +possible consequences of his misdeed had begun to weigh heavily on +Comale's conscience, and had lent an accusing tongue to nature. So +true is it that a guilty conscience finds censure where a heart that +is at peace with God and man would find no reproving reminder. +</P> + +<P> +Comale could not go home till nightfall, and all day his worry +increased. Why had he done so wicked a thing? The quarrel over the +trouble about the rice looked so little, now! If a poisonous snake +should find that opening, and should creep in, and strike his +mother, or Pidura, or the little brother, or, the baby! It was +dreadful to think of! Why had he blindly followed his anger? Had he +not often heard that he who would be a Christian must forgive +others? Instead of forgiving Pidura, he had done something that +perhaps might kill her. +</P> + +<P> +"Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, +even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you." It was what the +missionary had said. +</P> + +<P> +"I ought to have forgiven Pidura!" Comale's heart cried. "Oh, I am +bad, bad! How can I bear it, to wait till I can go home to see if +all is safe?" +</P> + +<P> +Naturally, Comale's work was not done well, to-day. But he cared +little for criticism of his peeling, when at evening the time came +to go home. He ran all the way. He plunged headlong into the street +where he lived. He ran past the tile-roofed houses. There was his +home's veranda with bunches of bananas hanging in the shade, and a +basket of cocoa-nuts below. Comale hastened in, out of breath, yet +trying to act as if nothing ailed him. Pidura was safe! He saw her. +He found his mother and the baby in another room. Comale drew a long +breath, and tried to stop trembling. His little brothers were in the +street. +</P> + +<P> +It was growing dusk, and another fear beset him. If a serpent had +crawled into the house, the creature might have hidden itself, and +might not come out till sometime in the night. Comale guiltily +slipped into the veranda again. The unprotected portion had not been +discovered. It lay exposed as he had left it. +</P> + +<P> +As well as he could, Comale replaced the cocoanut-husk material, so +that it might be a defense as before. Then he went softly around +within the house, hunting for any possible hiding-place where the +enemy he dreaded might be concealed. +</P> + +<P> +"Comale," said his mother, "what are you doing?" And Comale did not +dare to hunt any more. +</P> + +<P> +He was dreadfully miserable as he lay that night in the darkness. He +could not sleep. He listened for any outcry. To think that he might +have let an enemy into his own home! Comale rose upon his elbow to +listen. The walls of Cingalese houses are not carried up to the +roof, and, because of this, an outcry or conversation in one room +can be heard all over the house. Comale listened. Sometimes he +fancied he heard the sound of something slipping over the matting on +the floor. So worried was he that when he slept it was only by short +naps from which he woke with a start, and resumed his listening. +</P> + +<P> +Toward morning, when light began to come, Comale crept from his +place. He looked toward where his little brothers slept. Hanging +above one of the little boys was a slender dark line. It was alive! +It swayed to and fro in the shadows, and seemed to slip a little +lower toward the sleeping child. Comale started. He sprang forward +with a cry, and caught the swaying thing. But it was no living +creature that Comale brought with him to the floor. It was only a +long, thin strip of bamboo with which Comale's father had intended +to bind cinnamon bark! The strip had been hung up out of the way, +and had swung a little in the current of air between the top of the +wall and the roof. As the bamboo strip swayed, it had gradually +slipped lower and lower toward the sleeping little boy below. +</P> + +<P> +Comale's outcry had aroused the household; and without reserve the +penitent lad told to the family the story of his misdeed. His +dark-faced father smiled slightly and showed his teeth through his beard. +He understood now the mistakes Comale had made in the cinnamon work +the previous day. +</P> + +<P> +"A wrong heart makes corundoo peeling go ill, Comale," he said +gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Corundoo" is the native word for cinnamon. +</P> + +<P> +"A wrong heart makes rice-cooking go ill, too," softly confessed +Pidura. "I am sorry for yesterday's rice! It was I who made Comale's +heart angry." +</P> + +<P> +The father looked from one child to the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Little children, love one another," he said. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="panaderia"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE PANADERIA. +</H2> + +<P> +The door of the "panaderia" opened. Americans would have called the +place a bakery, but the sign said "Panaderia," which might be +interpreted "breadery" or bake-house. All California does not read +English, and it behooves shop-keepers sometimes to word their signs +for the customers desired. In like manner the "Restaurante +Mexicana," across the street, on a sign advertised "comidas," or +meals, at twenty-five and fifty cents. +</P> + +<P> +Through the panaderia doorway came a girl and a boy. They walked +along by the "zanja," or irrigation ditch, that here bordered the +road. The fern-leaved pepper trees beside the zanja were dotted with +clusters of small, bright red berries. +</P> + +<P> +"Rosa," said the boy, when the two had walked a little way, "I saw +in that big yard many purple and green grapes, spread out drying for +raisins." +</P> + +<P> +Rosa did not answer. She trudged on, carrying her basket of bread. +The brother carried a loaf in brown paper. He and she lived at the +panaderia, and had set forth to carry the bread to the two regular +customers. +</P> + +<P> +"Rosa," stated the boy again, after a pause, "all the little oranges +on the trees over there are green." +</P> + +<P> +Rosa did not even look toward the oranges. +</P> + +<P> +"Rosa," affirmed the boy emphatically, when a few minutes had gone +by, "the Chinese doctor is measuring a window in his house! See! He +has some little teacups and a teapot in his front room! I saw them +just now." +</P> + +<P> +Rosa looked absently toward the old building, inside a window of +which was visible the head of the Chinese doctor, who wore black +goggles, and who was indeed measuring his window for some reason. +Rosa had small hope of the Chinese doctor as a future customer. She +had seen him eating his rice with chop-sticks, and he never came to +buy a scrap of bread or anything else. Rosa sighed to think what +would become of the panaderia, if all the world had the same opinion +as the Chinese doctor, in regard to eating. In these days Rosa was +in danger of looking upon the world from a strictly calculating +standpoint, and of regarding only those people as worthy of her +interest who either were or might become customers of the panaderia. +Still indeed customers were needed, for the receipts had been +slight, lately, and Rosa's grandmother's parrot, Papagayo, a bird of +such understanding that he had learned to screech, "Pan por dinero," +(bread for money) had recently seen more of the former than of the +latter in the shop. +</P> + +<P> +Rosa and her brother still kept by the zanja, even when it turned +away from the road. They went on till they reached the orange +orchard of the Zanjero of the town. The Zanjero is the man who has +the oversight of the irrigation system, and he has deputies under +him. Rosa and her brother Joseph thought the Zanjero a great man, +and stood much in awe of the irrigation laws concerning stealing +water, or raising a gate to waste water, or giving water to persons +outside the district. +</P> + +<P> +The two bread-carriers went through the orange orchard, which was +not being irrigated at this hour, for the Zanjero was particular +himself to keep the hour that he paid for, as other men should be. +Up to the Zanjero's house Rosa now carried the bread, and his wife +herself paid for it. Rosa tied the coins carefully in one corner of +the black shawl that she wore over her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Rosa," anticipated Joseph aloud, as they went away through the +orange orchard again, "when I am grown up, I shall be a Zanjero, and +we will not have to keep the panaderia!" +</P> + +<P> +But Rosa looked unbelieving. "It is not granted every man to be the +Zanjero," returned she gravely, "and I love the panaderia." +</P> + +<P> +It was true. She did love it, even to the castor-oil plants that +grew like weeds in neglected places in the yard, and down to the +south wall that was hung with a thick veil of red peppers that her +grandmother was drying in the sun. It was only because the panaderia +had not enough customers that Rosa looked so grave to-day. Besides, +the grandmother's birthday was near, and where was money for a +present? +</P> + +<P> +At the other house where the children regularly delivered bread, +irrigation had been going on all the morning. The half-day of +irrigation, for which the owner of this orange orchard had paid, was +just over, and the water-gate connecting the man's ditch with the +main zanja was being shut when Rosa and Joseph arrived. The little +water-gate was like a wooden shovel. It slid down some grooves, and +the running water stopped. It squirmed in the zanja an instant. Then +the little wooden gate was fastened with a padlock, as every gate +must be when the payer for water had received from the Zanjero's +deputy the amount of water paid for, whether by the fifty-cent-hour, +or the two-dollar-day, or the dollar-and-a-quarter night rate, and +whoever unauthorized should unfasten the padlock and open the gate +would be a thief of water. +</P> + +<P> +After witnessing the shutting off of the water, Joseph carried his +paper-enfolded loaf to the house of this second regular customer, +and then the children turned homeward toward the panaderia. +</P> + +<P> +"Pan por dinero!" cried the parrot, Papagayo, when Rosa and Joseph +reentered the panaderia; but alas! no customers were there. Only the +grandmother sat sewing behind the counter, her blurred old eyes +close to the cloth she held. +</P> + +<P> +"I will take care of the panaderia now, grandmother," Rosa offered; +and the grandmother answered, "I will rest a little, then." +</P> + +<P> +The poor, dear grandmother! She was so tired and thin, nowadays, and +her hands trembled so much! It was hard for her to try to sew. If +the panaderia paid better, if there were more regular customers to +whom Rosa and Joseph could carry eatables, then the grandmother +would not attempt sewing at all, for it strained her eyes very much. +But now she did not know what else to do. There must be a living for +herself and the children someway. +</P> + +<P> +Rosa found the afternoon long, sitting behind the counter, waiting +for customers and trying to sew. A little boy came in and bought a +loaf. Two girls bought another. Then the panaderia door ceased to +swing, and the quiet afternoon went on. Across the street, women +stood here and there and gossiped. +</P> + +<P> +Nobody came. It grew four, then five, then six o'clock. Finally the +panaderia door opened, and a woman entered. Rosa sprang up. Here was +a customer, at last! +</P> + +<P> +But the woman only came to the counter, and stood still. She was +young, very thin and ill, evidently, and her eyes had tears in their +depths. Under the black shawl that was over the newcomer's head Rosa +spied a dark mark, as of a bruise, on the forehead. The young woman +tried to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"I have three little children," she said. "I am sick. I cannot work, +and their father drinks mescal—always mescal. I have no money. Will +you give me a little bread? I am no beggar, but my babies are so +hungry!" +</P> + +<P> +Rosa knew how much harm mescal (a kind of intoxicating drink made +from the maguey or Mexican aloe) did among the neighbors. She did +not doubt the woman's tale; only it was disappointing, when one +thought a real customer had at last come to the panaderia, to find +that it was not so. But the girl nodded sympathetically at the +conclusion of the young woman's appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"I will speak to grandmother," she promised. +</P> + +<P> +She found her grandmother lying down still, but half awake, and +explained to her the situation. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," returned the grandmother, her wrinkled face full of +sympathy. "Give her the bread. Has not the Lord told us to care for +the poor? He would not be pleased if we sent her away without bread. +Tell the poor woman to come again. The little children, must be +fed." +</P> + +<P> +Rosa hurried back to the counter, and gave the woman two fresh +loaves and the grandmother's message. +</P> + +<P> +"Gracias!" (thanks) sobbed the young woman and hurried away. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope she will not tell that we gave her bread," murmured Rosa to +herself as the usual quiet settled over the panaderia. "We can't +afford to give bread to many people." +</P> + +<P> +The weeks went by, and the panaderia did not prosper very well. It +grew to be a customary thing for the thin, sick woman to come daily +for bread, and she was never refused. She said with a sensitive +eagerness that when she was well again she would work and pay all +back, and Rosa's grandmother answered "Yes," cheerily, to this +promise, though any one who looked at the poor young mother's face +could see that there was small prospect of her ever being well again +in this world. Her husband still drank. +</P> + +<P> +Times grew harder and harder at the panaderia. In the midst of the +winter a heavy blow fell, for the Zanjero's wife took a fancy to +making her own bread, and as she was the regular customer who bought +more loaves and paid more promptly than the other, the panaderia +felt the loss keenly. Customers were very scarce, and the +grandmother's eyes became so weak that she could no longer sew. Rosa +sewed the little that she could, but some days there was scarcely +enough to eat at the panaderia, except the very few loaves in the +case—the loaves that the three hardly knew whether to dare eat or +not, for fear some one should come in and want to buy. There were +many other people who were poor and without work, and the little +family kept their troubles to themselves. The poor sick neighbor +always came every day and was given bread. Winter passed and spring +arrived without much change in the panaderia's prospects. +</P> + +<P> +"We could have eaten that ourselves," thought Rosa one night when +the neighbor went out with the bread. +</P> + +<P> +The grandmother had said that the poor were God's care, and he would +bless those who for his sake fed them. +</P> + +<P> +"But we keep on being poorer and poorer," thought Rosa with a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +Then she reproached herself. Had not her grandmother said that the +Lord cared about the panaderia? One day when spring was turning into +summer, the poor neighbor came in earlier than usual. Her face was +very white. Rosa and her grandmother were both by the counter. The +grandmother smiled and was about to draw out the bread and give it +to the woman. But the poor neighbor dropped her head on the counter, +and stretched out her hand toward the old grandmother. The +grandmother took the hand, and lo! in her own lay a little key. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it to the Zanjero!" sobbed the sick neighbor, "and tell him to +forgive! It was the mescal made my husband do it!" +</P> + +<P> +Little by little Rosa and her grandmother pieced together the story +of the small key. Some unscrupulous persons wished to obtain water +for irrigation without paying for it. A key was made that fitted the +padlocks of the little wooden gates leading from the zanja. By night +some one must open these gates and close them again before morning. +It was thieving, of course, and the Zanjero or his deputies might +catch the person who did it. But the sick neighbor's husband, +wanting money to buy more mescal, had been induced to undertake the +task of stealthily opening the gates. His wife, suspicious of his +errand, had followed him on the first night of his attempt. She had +seen him stop by a Mexican cactus, and raise something, she knew not +what, in the zanja. After he had gone, she went to the spot and +putting her hand into the water felt the current that ran through a +gate he had opened. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I know!" tearfully declared the woman to Rosa's grandmother. +"I follow my husband. I tell him the Zanjero is the friend of the +good panaderia that gives the bread! I tell him he shall not open +the other gates! I snatch the key! I tell him `No! No! The panaderia +is my friend! The Zanjero is the panaderia's friend!' He shall not +cheat the Zanjero! My husband say if he open other gates he get +money for mescal. I say 'No!' I run away with key. My husband say, +'Don't tell anybody! I will not open the gates again! Let other men +do it.' But I say, 'I must tell, because the Zanjero is the best +friend of the panaderia. No one shall cheat the best friend of the +panaderia, that feeds our babies so long—all winter and now." +</P> + +<P> +Evidently the woman supposed that the Zanjero was still the +principal regular customer of the panaderia. Rosa and her +grandmother had never told about his ceasing to buy bread, and the +neighbor thought that he was still considered their very chief +customer. +</P> + +<P> +That evening Rosa and Joseph took the long-unused path to the +Zanjero's house. His wife came to the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," she said, "it's the two little bread-bringers! No, I don't +want any bread. Are you trying to get orders?" +</P> + +<P> +"May I see the Zanjero?" asked Rosa gravely. +</P> + +<P> +The Zanjero's wife, whose name in plain English was Mrs. Craig, led +the two children into her husband's presence. Rosa, very pale with +the thought of being in the presence of so great a man, told her +story in trembling tones, and held out the key. +</P> + +<P> +The Zanjero took it, and looked at it curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you forgive?" asked Rosa timorously. "The poor, sick woman +asks you to forgive. She says it was the mescal that made her +husband do it." +</P> + +<P> +"I presume so," returned the man grimly. "They're all thieves." +</P> + +<P> +But the Zanjero's wife was wiser than her husband. She dropped into +a chair and put an arm around Rosa. +</P> + +<P> +"You have not told all the story yet, or else I do not understand," +she said gently. "What makes this woman so much your friend that she +comes and tells your grandmother about the key?" +</P> + +<P> +So the whole story came out at last—about the long, sad winter at +the panaderia; the grandmother's attempts at sewing; her failing +eyes; the lack of customers, yet the daily giving of bread to the +poor neighbor and her three children; the trust that the Lord knew +about the panaderia and its occupants. +</P> + +<P> +The Zanjero's wife understood it all now. She looked up at her +husband. There were tears in her eyes as she said: +</P> + +<P> +"While you are forgiving that man, you'd better think how much +forgiveness I need for having stopped taking bread of the panaderia +in the heart of winter, when they needed the money so badly! To +think of their struggling along, and yet giving bread every day to a +woman and three babies! If the panaderia folks had not done this, +you'd never have found out about this plan to rob the zanja! That +woman would simply have kept the story and the key to herself, and +those dishonest men would have found somebody else to open the gates +at night for them. It was only because she thought that you were a +noted customer of the panaderia that she sent you word of this plan +to steal the water." +</P> + +<P> +The great Zanjero turned and looked at Rosa. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell that sick woman," he said gravely, "that I forgive her husband +for opening the gate, though I don't know how much water he helped +steal that night. Tell her, though, that he must never do such a +thing again. I am coming to see him myself, and I shall tell him he +is forgiven. But he must stop drinking mescal." +</P> + +<P> +"And tell your grandmother," broke in the Zanjero's wife, "that I +want three loaves of bread to-morrow morning, and I want bread every +day. Here's the money for the three loaves. And I'm going to get you +a lot of regular customers! I have friends enough. They'll take +bread of you, if I ask them. You poor children! Why didn't you come +and tell me about things, long ago?" +</P> + +<P> +So it was that the mercy which the old grandmother showed to the +sick neighbor and her children returned in blessing on the +panaderia. For the Zanjero's wife rested not till she had fulfilled +her promise. Customers became many and well-paying, and the old +grandmother, happy in the prosperity, said to Rosa and to Joseph: +</P> + +<P> +"See you, my children? Did I not tell you that the Lord knew about +the panaderia? It is he who sends all this good to us who deserve it +not." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="stratton"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +MISS STRATTON'S PAPER +</H2> + +<P> +The wind was blowing quite keenly from the north, and Miss Stratton +had the collar of her coat turned up, as she hurried through the +darkness of the avenue. She was talking behind her coat collar, the +tips of which brushed her lips. If what Miss Stratton said had been +audible to any one beside herself, it would have sounded as if she +were talking severely to somebody. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see why you can't throw that evening paper where we can +find it!" Miss Stratton was saying under her breath. "We have a +broad walk, and there's plenty of room! I've been out in the yard +three or four times to-night, and hunted thoroughly, and mother's +been out once. Mother's eyes are poor, and she likes to have the +paper before dark." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Stratton caught her breath in the cold wind. She hastened by a +gas-lamp, climbed the hill, and found her way in darkness up the +long steps of a house. She fumbled for the bell and rang it. There +was a little stir within, the opening of an interior door to let +light into the hall, and then a boy's step. The front door opened. +Miss Stratton looked straight into the boyish face that appeared. +</P> + +<P> +"I want to know where you threw our paper to-night," she demanded. +"I can't find it anywhere." +</P> + +<P> +The boy stepped one side so that the light within the farther room +might fall on Miss Stratton's face. He recognized her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," returned the boy, "your paper went up a tree." +</P> + +<P> +"Up a tree!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, indignantly. "Why didn't you +come in and tell me, so I'd know where to look for it?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I'd had an extra copy with me, I'd have thrown in another," said +the boy—"I'll get you one." +</P> + +<P> +He walked back into the sitting-room, glad to escape from the +accusing subscriber, whom he had not expected to see following him +to his home. Miss Stratton sternly waited. The boy's sister had come +into the hall, and was holding a candle for a light. Her brother +came back with the evening paper, and Miss Stratton took it. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you'd be careful where you throw that paper, Harry," she +admonished him, her indignation cooling. "I've spoken to you about +that before. I don't like to have to come away up here for the +paper. It isn't convenient." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm," answered the boy. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Stratton hurried home. When she arrived there, one of the first +things she saw gleaming faintly through the garden's darkness, was +the missing evening paper that Harry had thrown into a pepper tree +near the side fence. During Miss Stratton's absence, the strong wind +had shaken the paper down, and it lay at the foot of the tree. "How +did he suppose I was going to find that paper up that tree?" +questioned Miss Stratton. "I did look up there before dark, but I +didn't see anything." +</P> + +<P> +The evening paper was easily discoverable for a week or so after +this: Then matters went back to their old state and Miss Stratton +frequently spent a quarter of an hour finding her evening paper. +</P> + +<P> +"If he'd take the slightest pains he could throw it on this walk +that is ten feet wide!" she would tell herself indignantly, as she +pushed aside the branches of blue marguerites and the leaves of +calla-lilies, and peered into holes on either side of the steps near +the front gate, where the watering of the garden had washed away the +soil. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Stratton had liked Harry very much, when he first became paper +boy. He had a frank manner that made him friends. At first he +carefully threw the paper on Miss Stratton's front piazza. He never +skipped an evening, as the former paper boy had sometimes done, and +Miss Stratton rejoiced that at last a paper boy who was reliable had +been found for the route. Months had passed, and while Harry was as +careful at some houses as before, Miss Stratton's was not among that +number. Harry had three 'customers on that street and he nightly +walked only as far toward Miss Stratton's as would enable him to +throw her paper and then, with two or three steps, throw another +paper to the neighbor diagonally across the street. A few more steps +would have made Harry sure that Miss Stratton's paper fell every +night squarely on the broad front path, but he "fired the paper at +her," as he expressed it, and the result was Miss Stratton's +otherwise unnecessary number of steps hunting after her paper. Yet +Harry would have scorned to cheat any customer. He fulfilled the +letter of the law. He delivered the paper. +</P> + +<P> +Late one afternoon the minister and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Landler, +came by invitation to take supper with Mrs. and Miss Stratton. After +a while, as they sat, pleasantly chatting, Mr. Landler spoke of a +ship that had been overdue for almost two weeks. A neighbor's son +was on board, and this fact caused Mr. and Mrs. Landler to look at +the papers, morning and night, as soon as possible, to ascertain if +anything had been heard of the missing vessel. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what my daughter and I have been doing, too," returned Mrs. +Stratton. "I wonder if this evening's paper hasn't come, so we could +look?" +</P> + +<P> +Her daughter glanced at the clock. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes!" said she. "That paper ought to have come before now." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Stratton went out and hunted carefully. No paper was visible, +search as she might. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps it hasn't come yet," she said to the guests, when she came +in. +</P> + +<P> +A little later she went out again. Mrs. Landler came to help search, +though Miss Stratton disclaimed the need of aid. +</P> + +<P> +"The paper doesn't always fall where I can see it," explained Miss +Stratton, mortified at her failure to find the paper for her guests. +</P> + +<P> +"Who brings it around?" asked Mrs. Landler, looking at the broad +front walk. +</P> + +<P> +"Harry Butterworth," answered Miss Stratton. +</P> + +<P> +She did not tell of the annoyance Harry had caused her heretofore. +Harry's mother was a church friend of the Landlers and the +Strattons, and Miss Stratton was loath to expose the boy's +shortcomings. +</P> + +<P> +No paper appeared, and after a thorough search, Mrs. Landler and +Miss Stratton went into the house. Dusk was coming. Miss Stratton +had occasion to go upstairs for something, and glancing out of the +front hall window, she saw the twisted roll of that evening's paper +lying on a projection of the roof. +</P> + +<P> +"He threw the paper on the roof!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, "and he +didn't come in to tell me!" +</P> + +<P> +She pushed up the hall window, and reaching out as far as she dared, +she tried with an old umbrella handle to dislodge the paper. She +drew breathlessly back. +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use! I can't get it!" she gasped. +</P> + +<P> +She went downstairs and told her mother quietly, but Mrs. Stratton +had no scruples about informing her guests what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +"That boy's thrown this evening's paper on the roof!" stated old +Mrs. Stratton. "He does put us to so much trouble!" +</P> + +<P> +The minister instantly offered to climb the roof. Miss Stratton and +her mother protested, but Mr. Landler took off his coat, climbed out +of an upper-story window, and secured the paper. In one column was a +notice that the missing ship had been heard from and was safe. Great +was the rejoicing around the Strattons' supper-table that their +friend's son was not lost. +</P> + +<P> +The next time Mr. Landler saw Harry, the minister said pleasantly, +"You gave me quite a climb the other night, my boy." +</P> + +<P> +Harry looked astonished. +</P> + +<P> +"Gave you a climb?" he questioned. "I gave you one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," nodded Mr. Landler. "Miss Stratton's evening paper fell on +her roof. My wife and I were taking supper there, so I climbed the +roof for the paper." +</P> + +<P> +Harry turned very red. Was ever a paper boy so unfortunate? He knew +the paper fell on the roof, but who would have supposed Mr. Landler +was at the Strattons'? Harry wanted very much to be thought well of +by the minister and his wife. Everybody liked them. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know you were there," apologized Harry, hardly knowing +what to say. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said the minister, gently, "we never know who may be in any +home. You didn't know you were delivering the paper to me. You +thought it was to Miss Stratton. Wasn't that it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," acknowledged the boy. +</P> + +<P> +"If the Lord Jesus were here on earth, Harry," went on the minister +in a very grave, tender tone, "and if he wanted a little service +from you, you wouldn't render it in the way you deliver Miss +Stratton's paper, would you? Yet she is his child, one of his +representatives on earth, and as you treat her you treat him. +'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these,' you +know, Harry." +</P> + +<P> +The next night Miss Stratton's paper fell with an emphatic thwack in +the middle of the front walk. The next night it did the same, and +the next, and the next. +</P> + +<P> +"What has changed that boy?" wondered Miss Stratton with grateful +relief, as weeks passed and the paper still fell in plain sight. +</P> + +<P> +She did not know that as Harry carefully aimed his papers, the boy +thought, "'Ye have done it unto me.'" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="honest"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +AN HONEST DAY'S WORK. +</H2> + +<P> +Willis walked down one of the city wharves. He was going to see his +father, Mr. Sutherland, who was one of the men employed by the State +Harbor Commissioners in repairing wharves. The piles that supported +the wharves often needed renewing, being eaten by teredos. Sometimes +the flooring of the wharves sagged and needed restoring to the +former level. +</P> + +<P> +Willis liked to see the pile-driver with its big hammer. He marveled +at the air-pumps with which sagging wharves were raised. Perhaps +three air-pumps at a time would be stationed over as many "caps," as +the twelve-inch timbers under the wharf's flooring were called. The +pumps, being worked, would raise the caps and hold them until blocks +could be shoved underneath. Then the pumps were worked some more, +and other blocks put under, till the wharf was restored to the +required level. Great screws such as are used in raising buildings +were also employed under wharves sometimes. There were rocks under +some wharves, and water was under others. Whichever it was, Willis' +father often had to go under the wharves and climb around among the +caps and stringers and piles, repairing. +</P> + +<P> +Seven or eight other men were employed like Mr. Sutherland. It was +mid-forenoon, but Willis saw that three or four of the men were not +working. They were idling around the engine of the pile-driver, and +were eating something that Willis found to be cooked crabs. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's father?" asked Willis. "Under the wharf, working," answered +one man. "He thinks the State's looking after him every minute." +</P> + +<P> +Willis saw some planks had been taken up in a distant part of the +wharf's flooring. He went there and swung himself down under the +wharf. There were rocks there, and Willis, following the sound of a +hammer, came to his father. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Willis?" asked his father pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Pa," said the boy, "some of the other men are up there eating +crabs. Why don't you go up and get some, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't lunch-time," returned Mr. Sutherland. "We're expected to +work now." +</P> + +<P> +"Three or four of the men aren't working," said Willis. +</P> + +<P> +"No," rejoined his father. "Several of the men lately have taken to +catching crabs sometimes during work-hours." +</P> + +<P> +"The men tie a rope to a big twine net, and bait it, and let it out +into the bay. In a little while they haul it in again, and there are +maybe half a dozen big crabs in the net. The men have made a sort of +boiler out of an empty kerosene can with one end cut off. They +attach a hose to the boiler of the engine and fill that can with hot +water. The crabs cook in a short time and those men stop work to +eat. It would be all right if the men cooked the crabs at noon, when +we're allowed to lay off, but they stop in the fore-noon sometimes +an hour, and again in the afternoon sometimes, and eat crabs. The +foreman we have now allows it. He does it himself." +</P> + +<P> +While Mr. Sutherland talked he was working. Several of the other men +were working up on top of the wharf, as Willis could tell by the +sounds, but the boy's thoughts were with those three or four other +men who were idling. Were not those men employed to work as steadily +as his father? +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't fair for them to stop and you to have to keep on," +objected Willis. "I should think those, men would be discharged." +</P> + +<P> +"They may and they mayn't," said his father. "They are appointed by +different Harbor Commissioners, and as long as the Commissioners +don't know, I suppose the men will keep their places." +</P> + +<P> +"One man told me you thought the State was looking at you every +minute," said Willis. +</P> + +<P> +"My boy," answered Mr. Sutherland, fitting a block into place, "it's +true that I'm employed to work for the State, and I feel just as +much that I must do honest work for the State as if I were working +for some individual. But it isn't thought of the State that makes me +faithful. A Christian ought to give an honest day's work. Some +people don't seem to think cheating the State is as bad as cheating +another person. But it is." +</P> + +<P> +Willis climbed upon the wharf again. He saw when the men who had +been eating crabs came back to work. He noticed they did not work +very heartily. +</P> + +<P> +"My father doesn't work that way," thought the boy. +</P> + +<P> +"An honest day's work." The words followed Willis as he went away +from the wharf. The next week Willis was going to begin work for a +large dry-goods store. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do honest day's work, too," resolved Willis. +</P> + +<P> +He did not put it into words, but he thought that the One who saw +whether a man under the wharves did an honest day's work would see +whether a boy working for a store did the same. Willis was trying to +be a Christian. +</P> + +<P> +Busy days Willis had after that. The large dry-goods store had many +customers who often did not wish to carry bundles home. The store +had two pretty, white-covered, small carts for the delivering of +packages. Willis drove one cart and a boy named August drove the +other. +</P> + +<P> +One afternoon Willis, out delivering dry-goods, drove by the house +where August lived, and saw the store's other cart standing there. +</P> + +<P> +"August is home," thought Willis. Just then, August came out. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't tell," called August, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +Willis, hardly comprehending, drove on about his business. +</P> + +<P> +That evening at store-closing time, both boys were back with their +receipt books, signed by customers who had received their packages. +The boys went out of the store together. +</P> + +<P> +"Saw me coming out of our house today, didn't you?" said August to +Willis. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you ever stop off half an hour or so, when you're on your +rounds?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no!" answered Willis. "What would they say at the store, if +they knew?" +</P> + +<P> +"They can't know," asserted August. "I often stop, that way. +Yesterday I went to see my aunt. How can the store tell? They don't +know just how long it will take to deliver all the parcels. Some +folks live farther off than others. Who's going to know?" +</P> + +<P> +Willis hesitated. He remembered that the thought of the men at the +wharves had been: "Who would know?" Willis had never heard that +anybody had lost his place at the wharves on account of dawdling. +What if August never was found out? Was it right to steal an hour, +or half an hour, of his employer's time? +</P> + +<P> +"No," thought Willis. "I'm going to be honest." +</P> + +<P> +Late one afternoon August came into the store. Willis was later +still, because he had had more parcels to deliver. Both boys' +receipt books showed the customers' signatures. +</P> + +<P> +"There was a big fire up-town," said August secretly to Willis +afterwards. "I stopped to see it before delivering my parcels. You +just ought to have been there!" +</P> + +<P> +"How long did you stay?" asked Willis, gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know!" returned August. "Three-quarters of an hour, +maybe. I delivered my parcels all right afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +Willis did not tell anybody about August's actions. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish he wouldn't tell me about them, either," thought Willis, +uncomfortably. +</P> + +<P> +That week August was discharged. +</P> + +<P> +"I happened to be at the fire myself, and saw you," said one of the +store's proprietors to August. "The next time you stop to see a +fire, you will not have a chance to keep one of our delivery carts +waiting an hour while you waste your employer's time watching the +firemen. It didn't look well to see our firm's name on that white +cart standing idle, just as if we hadn't many customers." +</P> + +<P> +"And you were seen once," added the other proprietor, "with one of +our carts standing beside an open block, while a ball game was being +played there last week." +</P> + +<P> +As Willis regretfully saw his companion turned away, there came back +to him the scene in the semi-darkness under the wharf, when his +father said, "A Christian ought to give an honest day's work." "And +I will," he muttered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="timoteo"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +TIMOTEO +</H2> + +<P> +Two white jaw-bones of a whale stood upright in the sunshine, their +surfaces showing to a near observer numerous small indentations that +caught the dust. The jaw-bones were relics from a little whaling +station that had once been in business near the town. Even now +whales occasionally wander from the great Pacific into the blue bay +on which this old, partly Spanish, California town was situated. +</P> + +<P> +The two white jaw-bones now served the purpose of gate-posts, and +stood some six feet high beside the front gate that opened into a +garden where red hollyhocks rose higher than the humbled jaw-bones. +Inside the gate, the front walk had long been paved with the +vertebrae of whales, each vertebra being laid separately. +</P> + +<P> +No one who had not seen such a walk would realize how well whales' +vertebrae will answer for paving. Some of the old vertebrae had now +sunk below the original level of the walk, so that the path by which +a person went to the old adobe house beyond the red hollyhocks was +somewhat uneven as to surface. +</P> + +<P> +The long, low house was partly roofed with tiles, and the adobe +walls of the dwelling were a yard thick, as any one might see who +looked at the windowsills. +</P> + +<P> +On one of these broad sills Isabelita leaned, her black eyes fixed +on the bone gate-posts that she could see through the blossoming +hollyhocks. There was a displeased expression on the young girl's +face. She was watching for her brother Timoteo, who would soon come +from school. +</P> + +<P> +"He must go for the cow tonight," resolved Isabelita aloud in +Spanish. "I will not go! I wish the Americans had never come to this +town! In the old days, my father says, there were no cattle notices +on the trees. My father did not have to go for cows every night!" +And Isabelita frowned as she remembered the notices about letting +cattle run loose upon the highway. +</P> + +<P> +These Spanish—and—English notices were now nailed on pines here +and there along the roads, and proved a source of inquiry to +wandering Americans who saw the boards with their heading: +</P> + +<P> +"AVISO!!" +</P> + +<P> +preceded by two inverted exclamation points and followed by two +others in the upright position—that some Americans have perhaps +been wont to think is the only attitude in which an exclamation +point can stand, Americans not being accustomed to the ease with +which an exclamation point can stand on its head, when used in +Spanish literature. +</P> + +<P> +But it was not only with cattle notices and Americans that Isabelita +was offended this day. She was in a bad humor, and nothing suited +her. Hence it was in no pleasant voice that she called to Timoteo, +when he at last made his appearance between the bony gate-posts: +</P> + +<P> +"Hombre bobo, thou must go for the cow tonight!" +</P> + +<P> +Now, "hombre bobo" means much the same as our word "booby," +therefore this was not a very soothing manner of beginning her +information. To Isabelita's surprise, however, Timoteo answered only +"Yes," and, coming in, put his one book carefully away, and then +went forth for the cow, as he had been bidden. Isabelita stared +after him. She had at least expected a quarrel. +</P> + +<P> +Isabelita would have been more surprised still, if she could have +seen what Timoteo did after reaching the place in the woods where +the cow was tethered. He threw himself down; crushing the fragrant, +small-leaved vines of "yerba buena" as he fell, and, hiding his +face, Timoteo cried in a half-angry, half-hopeless tumult of +feeling. The pink blossoming thistles nodded, and the cow looked +wonderingly at the lad, but no one else saw or heard him. By and by +he sat up. +</P> + +<P> +"Teacher never like me any more," he told himself, his lips +quivering. "Americanos tell her my father lazy, my mother no clean. +And I try, I try!" +</P> + +<P> +He choked down a sob. A new teacher had come to the public school, a +sweet-faced, pleasant-toned young lady, whom Timoteo was ready to +obey devotedly from the first time she smiled on the school. Timoteo +did want to learn to be somebody! He looked with admiration on the +Americans boys' clothes and on an especial blue necktie that Herbert +Page wore. Timoteo wondered how it would seem to have a father who +worked and who provided his family with plenty to wear. The lad +Timoteo meant to be like one of the Americans when he grew up. He +would work, instead of lounging about the streets all day, smoking +"cigarros." +</P> + +<P> +But alas! That day he had overheard some of the American boy +scholars talking to the teacher about the Spanish ones. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Timoteo," he overheard Herbert Page say. "You don't want to +have him for your milk-man, Miss Montgomery! I don't believe they +keep the milk pails any too clean at his house. Laziness and dirt go +together in these Spanish houses!" +</P> + +<P> +Poor Timoteo! He had hoped the teacher and her mother would take +milk of him. Miss Montgomery had almost promised to, before this, +and one customer for milk made such a difference in Timoteo's home +finances! +</P> + +<P> +"But now she never like me any more," Timoteo hopelessly forewarned +himself, as he sat among the trees, his eyes yet red with crying. +"And I try, I try! I have learned wash my hands clean, when I go +school. And I try so hard learn read and write!" +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo sighed heavily. He did not hate those American boys who +looked so much nicer than he. He only had a sorrowful, hopeless +feeling as he unfastened the cow and started homeward with her. +</P> + +<P> +But when the cow lumbered in through the two white, strange +gate-posts at home, she swerved aside a little, and Timoteo saw, standing +under the tall red hollyhocks, his teacher, Miss Montgomery. She had +a bright tin pail in her hand, and she wanted some milk. +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo's eyes brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"I go wash my hands clean, clean!" he cried, and, disappearing, came +back a few minutes after, holding out his palms for Miss +Montgomery's inspection. +</P> + +<P> +She smiled, and gave him the pail. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor little fellow!" she thought, as she watched him milking. "I'm +afraid some of our American boys don't have charity enough for him." +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo beamed with happiness as he returned the pail brimming with +milk. He was Miss Montgomery's milkman regularly after that, and +when, on Sundays, Miss Montgomery taught a Sunday-school class of +boys, Timoteo always slipped in and listened, though the teacher +wondered sometimes if the boy could understand. +</P> + +<P> +There were fair-haired American boys who looked down on Timoteo at +school and who made him feel that a Spanish boy was an inferior. +Sometimes Timoteo almost felt as if some of the Chinese boys, in the +small fishing-village outside the town, were happier than he, for +they did not seem to care to know anything but how to dry nets and +dry fish. Herbert Page was one of the school boys who always felt +superior to Timoteo. Timoteo did not wonder at it. He had a very +humble opinion of himself, yet sometimes he wished Herbert would +only look at him as he passed by. Herbert would not have spoken +rudely to Timoteo. That, Herbert would have considered degrading. He +simply ignored the Spanish boys of the school. +</P> + +<P> +One Saturday morning, when Timoteo stood on the edge of the cliffs +outside the town, he saw Herbert picking his way out over the long +stretches of rocks to seaward; a basket on his arm and a stick in +his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"He go to get abalones, and think he can knock them off with a +stick!" laughed Timoteo. +</P> + +<P> +Herbert had not long lived in this vicinity, and he did not know the +tenacity with which the large, oval-shaped shell, called abalone, or +ear-shell, which is so well known and valued for its beautifully +colored, irridescent lining, clings to the rock when the shell's +inmate is living. At school, the day before, Timoteo had heard +Herbert say that he intended going after abalones on Saturday. +</P> + +<P> +"He no get any," prophesied Timoteo, gazing after Herbert's +disappearing figure. +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo himself was out abalone-hunting. This was one of the ways by +which he occasionally earned a few cents, visitors to the town +buying the large shells for curiosities. But Timoteo had with him a +long iron spike with which he intended to urge the abalone-shells +from the rocks. +</P> + +<P> +The abalone has a large, very strong, white "foot" inside its long +shell, and there is a row of holes in the shell itself. It is +conjectured that the abalone perhaps exhausts the air under the +shell, and so causes the shell to cling more tightly to the rock +than ever, through atmospheric pressure. It is very difficult to +take an abalone from its rocky home, unless the creature is +surprised. +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo, however, was acquainted with abalones, and made good use of +his weapon. He clambered far out over the wet rocks for hours, +finding abalones now and then, and waging war on these thick, rough +ovals that clung so tightly to the rock, the beautiful colors of the +abalone-shells entirely concealed. Timoteo saw nothing more of +Herbert, during these hours of work. +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo succeeded in getting three abalones, the last an especially +large shell. He sat down on the rocks to rest, after the long +struggle with this big abalone. The tide was rising. He would go +home soon now. +</P> + +<P> +While he sat there, it seemed to him that he heard the sound of +outcries. At first he thought it was the gulls. Half in fun he +shouted in reply. The distant cries seemed redoubled. Timoteo caught +up his basket and long spike. He sprang to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is it?" he thought, confused with the splash of waves and the +toss of spray. +</P> + +<P> +He listened. He sped, shouting, over the rocks in the direction from +which the cries seemed to come. He stopped now and then to listen. +Yes, it was a human voice that cried for help. It was not the gulls. +</P> + +<P> +"Adonde?" (Where?) "Adonde?" shouted Timoteo, forgetting his English +in his excitement. +</P> + +<P> +The answering shouts grew more distinct. Timoteo climbed over the +wet rocks till he found himself near a place where the sounds seemed +to come from between two rocks. Timoteo saw a boy reach up part way +between the two rocks. The boy could not crawl out. The hole between +the rocks was not big enough. +</P> + +<P> +"Timoteo!" screamed a voice, and Timoteo recognized Herbert. +</P> + +<P> +"Say!" Herbert called, "run for help, won't you? I was out here +abalone-hunting, and I guess one of these big rocks must have been +poised just right to topple over. Anyhow, in climbing down here I +managed to topple it. It didn't fall on me, but it fell against the +other rocks so that there isn't room for me to crawl out of here! I +can't make the rock budge, now. And the tide's coming! I thought I'd +drown, away out here, alone. You can't do anything with that spike. +It needs three or four men with levers. Run! The tide's up to my +waist, now! There isn't room between these rocks to crawl out." +</P> + +<P> +For one moment Timoteo stood still and looked at Herbert. Then the +Spanish boy turned and flew over the rocks. Leaping from one +slippery foothold to another, he rushed toward the cliffs, up the +cliff road, on to the clusters of Chinese huts that made a little +fishing-village by itself on the edge of the bay. Whatever Spanish +or English vocabulary Timoteo used, he aroused two or three Chinamen +to forsake their frames of drying fish and cease tossing over the +other small fish that lay drying on the ground. +</P> + +<P> +Seizing the long, heavy iron rods with which the Chinese were wont +to go abalone-hunting, the three Celestials followed in Timoteo's +wake toward the place where Herbert anxiously awaited rescue. There +was much prying with the iron rods before the stone was finally +tilted enough so that the drenched prisoner was released. +</P> + +<P> +"My father pay you," gratefully promised Herbert to the Chinamen, +who nodded and plodded cheerfully back toward their tiny fishing-village. +</P> + +<P> +Herbert looked at Timoteo. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm much obliged to you," said Herbert. "You were good to run for +help." +</P> + +<P> +But now that Timoteo had seen the success of his helpers, an abashed +silence seemed to have overtaken him. He did not answer. The silence +lasted till the two boys reached the cliffs. Herbert grew uneasy. +His conscience accused him somewhat. +</P> + +<P> +"Come to my house, Timoteo, and my father will give you something +for helping me," promised Herbert uneasily, as the boys climbed the +cliffs. +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo shook his head, but he did not look up. +</P> + +<P> +"See here, Timoteo," burst out Herbert, stopping on top of the +cliffs, "what's the matter? Do you hate me?" +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo glanced up slowly. His dark eyes were full of appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"You no talk to teacher any more about me?" he besought. "You no +tell her my father lazy, we no-'count folks?" +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo's voice shook. He hurried on: "I like teacher. I try be +clean. I wash my hands, my face, all time. I do ver' good to the +teacher. But my mother differ from your mother. Your mother give you +nice clean shirt and clothes. My mother too poor. I try learn, read, +spell. I grow like American boy." +</P> + +<P> +It was the appeal of a soul that looked from Timoteo's eyes. Herbert +flushed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you poor fellow, of course you try!" he answered heartily. "I—I'm +sorry if I've ever said anything to the teacher that made you +feel badly, Timoteo. I won't do it again, and the other boys +sha'n't, either! The teacher knows how hard you try. She said the +other day that you were a good boy. Come on up to our house. Won't +you?" +</P> + +<P> +But Timoteo smiled, and shook his head, and went away on the long +road that led toward home. The heart of the Spanish boy was very +happy. He had done good to his enemy, and that enemy was turned into +a friend. And the teacher had said that Timoteo was a good boy! She +knew how hard he tried! +</P> + +<P> +Timoteo sang for joy as he ran. +</P> + +<P> +"I will learn! I will learn! I shall be like los Americanos!" he +sang, and then he remembered how he had been tempted for one instant +not to help Herbert. Timoteo shivered at the remembered temptation. +He sang again for very joy at having been helped to forgive his +enemy. +</P> + +<P> +In the pines Timoteo stopped, and looked upward through the swaying +treetops. +</P> + +<P> +"A Dios sea gloria por Jesu-Christo," he murmured reverently. ("To +God be glory through Jesus Christ.") +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="quangpo"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE VICTORY OF QUANG PO +</H2> + +<P> +Jo bent down and slipped under the barbed wire fence that separated +the field back of the Chinese fishing-village from the other fields +that stretched away to the houses of the California seaside resort +under the pines. The wind blew pleasantly in from the sparkling bay. +</P> + +<P> +A large number of frames for drying fish stretched away to the back +part of the Chinese field. A great net fifty feet long was spread +out on the ground to dry. Jo looked at the wooden sinkers that were +fastened along one side of the net and smiled. "They're all on +again," he thought. +</P> + +<P> +A line of flounders stretched above the narrow, crooked street of +the fishing-village. The flounders looked like queer clothes hung to +dry on a clothes-line. There were crates of small fish, packed so +that they stood on their heads. Underneath a table of drying fish +lay a dead gopher. +</P> + +<P> +Red placards spotted the houses. On the roof of one hut a little +paper windmill was turning in the breeze. Back of one hut was a bit +of garden inclosed with a fence of branches and containing much +mustard. Chinese were washing fish. Shells were exposed for sale, +since at any hour visitors from the American settlement might come +to traverse the Chinese village, and visitors often bought shells. +</P> + +<P> +Even now, as Jo passed through the street, an old Chinaman beckoned +to the lad, and with much mystery unrolled a piece of brown paper +and showed a pearl that had come into his possession and that he +wished to sell. +</P> + +<P> +Young Chinese girls, with red or yellow-capped babies strapped on +their backs, packed or spread the fish. Some little Chinese boys +were arranging dried squids in boats drawn up on the shore. On one +boat was a kind of wooden crane, holding a hanging pan. There were +some burnt sticks in the pan, and the whole contrivance was +evidently an arrangement whereby a fire could be made in the boat +when it was out at sea. +</P> + +<P> +Jo stepped into one deserted hut, and found it to be a kitchen. An +oil can was over some ashes, and there were some queer, big kettles +near. In another place were Chinese children eating their breakfast. +One child had a Chinese cup, out of which she ate with chop-sticks. +</P> + +<P> +Jo sat down on the edge of the village, and watched three women who +were setting off in a boat, intending to row out into the surf to +get kelp. Small fish lay drying all over the rocks by the sea-beach +near Jo, and a Chinaman was lifting up the fish, and letting them +drop again by the handful, while the wind blew away the straw or +grass that had become mixed with the fish while drying. Then the +fish were spread upon matting to dry further. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho'lah!" the Chinaman said to Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho'lah!" responded Jo, and the conversation ceased. +</P> + +<P> +For a few minutes Jo watched two or three Chinese boys who were +lying on the beach, sifting the white sand through their fingers, +hunting for the small, white "rice shells," that American people +often buy. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, Jo pulled a sketch-book out of his pocket, and began to +draw the collection of queer huts that composed the Chinese village. +By and by the Chinaman who had been tossing fish, Quang Po, sat down +on the rocks. He looked at Jo for a time, and then came and glanced +over Jo's shoulder, smiling. The Chinamen of the village were used +to having artists come and plant their easels here and there on the +rocks or at the entrance of the narrow street, and draw the village +on their canvas. At such times, a small group of Chinamen usually +gathered about each artist, and made in their own tongue comments on +the drawing. No artist knew the nature of the criticisms made in his +very ears. +</P> + +<P> +Jo smiled over his own drawing, as Quang Po inspected it. +</P> + +<P> +"Wha' fo' you do that?" inquired Quang Po, mustering his English. +</P> + +<P> +"This drawing?" questioned Jo. "Oh, you see, my cousin is an artist +on one of the city papers. He's older than I am, and he earns a good +deal of money. I'm going to learn to make pictures for papers, too. +Some day I'll have as good a position as my cousin has." +</P> + +<P> +Quang Po looked puzzled. He did not understand. He always thought +American pictures strange. They were not made as Chinese pictures +were. +</P> + +<P> +But Quang Po knew that once he had thought other American things +strange, too. Some Americans believed in teaching Chinese girls +wonderful stories and words from a wonderful Book. When Quang Po's +niece had been taught first by such an American, great was Quang's +wrath. To increase his indignation, another thing happened. He had +burnt incense at the stone in the middle of the fishing-village, in +order to find out what day would be most lucky to go fishing, and +had found that according to the stone the twenty-second day of the +month would be the most lucky day. He had therefore gone fishing on +the twenty-second, and he had come back sulky, having caught almost +nothing. Then Quang Po's niece had actually laughed at the ill-fortune +of her uncle, and had openly expressed her unbelief in the +village stone! Quang Po had been very angry for many days, but there +came a time when Quang Po's niece induced him to go with her to the +little mission school on the hill-side, and there Quang Po heard +that for which his soul thirsted. He saw the picture of the +Crucified. He understood the story, and he, like his niece, lost +faith in the village stone and in the incense-shelves. Quang Po +yielded his will and his life to Christ, and the Christian religion +seemed strange to him no longer. +</P> + +<P> +So, when this Chinaman handed back the drawing to Jo, Quang Po +smiled and said the kindest thing he could think of, although the +drawing did not accord with his Chinese ideas of art. +</P> + +<P> +"You draw like Melican," said Quang Po, winding his queue about his +head, and preparing to return to work. +</P> + +<P> +Jo felt somewhat ashamed. He wished that he and the other boys had +not cut the sinkers off Quang Po's big net. Perhaps Quang Po did not +know that Jo had taken part in that mischief, but the thought of it +made Jo uncomfortable. So did the remembrance that he and the other +boys had slyly at night cut the line that held the flounders high in +air above the village street. The flounders now were safely +stretched aloft again, but the last time Jo remembered seeing them +they were lying in the dust. Jo was not an ill-natured lad, but he +had not objected to helping do the mischief. And now Quang Po had +spoken kindly of Jo's drawing! Jo winced a little. He was rather +proud of his ability as an artist, himself. He turned his attention, +to the flaming yellow pair of trousers worn by a small Chinese boy +among the numerous Chinese children in the street below. The +brilliant color made the little fellow most conspicuous as he +toddled here and there. In watching him, Jo tried to forget his own +self-reproach. +</P> + +<P> +So far did he succeed in forgetting it that, that evening, when +Louis Rouse, one of the other boys whose parents were staying at the +resort during the summer vacation, proposed going over to the +Chinese village, Jo did not object, though he knew that the purpose +of going was to have some "fun," as Louis called it. +</P> + +<P> +"Was the line of flounders up?" asked Louis gleefully, as the boys +went over the fields in the dusk. "Let's cut it again! And, say, +let's just tip over one of those frames for drying fish in the field +back of the village. We can do it carefully, so they won't hear." +</P> + +<P> +Chuckling softly and speaking in whispers only, the boys crept about +the fishing-village and did the mischief planned. They pretended +that the Chinese village was a fort of enemies, and the boys were a +band of soldiers reconnoitering in the dark. They became quite +excited over the idea. Doing mischief seemed so much more glorious +than it would if they had allowed themselves to think that they were +really American boys doing a contemptible thing to quiet, peaceable +people. +</P> + +<P> +Just as the boys had quietly tipped over one of the fish-frames, +letting the partially dried fish slide to the ground, there were +shouts in the dark of the Chinese village. +</P> + +<P> +"The enemy's coming, boys!" whispered Louis, and the lads rushed for +the fence. +</P> + +<P> +Some boys caught their feet in the big, spread-out net, and fell, +and rolled over, shaking with laughter. Others stuck between the +barbed wires of the fence, but all were outside, running across the +fields, before the Chinese had sallied out toward their frames. Some +distance from the fishing village, the boys dropped breathless +behind the large rocks near the sea, and laughed softly together. Jo +laughed with the others, though he said, "I sha'n't dare go near the +village for a week, till my hand gets well. The barbed wire gave me +some pretty deep scratches on the back of one hand, and the Chinamen +might guess how I got the marks." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got one on my forehead, I guess," answered Louis, laughing. +"It feels so, anyway, and I guess it's bleeding." +</P> + +<P> +The boys went home. Jo was silent on the way. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm tired, laughing so much," he explained to the rest. +</P> + +<P> +He could not help remembering how kind Quang Po's voice had sounded +when he said, "You draw like Melican." +</P> + +<P> +During the next week Jo stayed away from the fishing village. The +scratches on his hand and on his cheek were all too plainly visible. +He occupied his vacation-time in rambling in other places besides +the Chinese village. +</P> + +<P> +One morning, in his rambles, he went to what had once been an old +adobe dwelling. It was on a hill, quite a distance outside the town, +and was not often visited by any one. The old adobe had long ago +lost its tile roof, some of the walls had fallen, its former Spanish +inhabitants had long since disappeared, and quick-motioned, small +lizards now and then ran over the thick, ruined walls that stood, +dark and crumbling, against the light-brown of the wild oats on the +hill. +</P> + +<P> +Jo climbed on top of one of the higher adobe walls. It still +retained its Spanish thickness, being about five feet through, +although crumbling at the sides and somewhat uncertain as to +uprightness. +</P> + +<P> +"Must have taken a lot of clay to make it," thought Jo. +</P> + +<P> +Just then a little lizard, that had been sunning itself in a niche +in the adobe wall, started, disturbed by Jo's proximity, and ran +swiftly over to another part of the wall. Jo was anxious to see +where the creature went. The boy jumped over a broken place in the +wall, and walked on its top, regardless of the fact that the adobe +was trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess it's gone where I can't see it," said Jo to himself. "This is +a nice sunny place for a lizard. I—" +</P> + +<P> +Jo had stepped a little too far. There was a sudden trembling of the +wall. Jo caught at the adobe, which came away in handfuls, and he +fell with a large portion of the old wall. +</P> + +<P> +The next thing he knew, he was lying, choked with dust, on what was +once the floor of the old Spanish dwelling. He was overtopped by a +heavy pile of debris, from under which he struggled in vain to +extricate himself. He had one free hand, with which, when he found +that other exertions did not avail, he tried to dig himself out; but +the more he dug, the more the great pile of adobe above him slid +down on his face, till he was in such imminent danger of being +smothered that he was forced to desist. +</P> + +<P> +It was almost all he could do to breathe with such a weight upon +him, but after a few moments' rest he tried to shout for help. His +shouts were not very loud, and soon he had to stop. He lay breathing +heavily and looking up at the pile of dull earth. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish," he panted, "I hadn't—come here." +</P> + +<P> +He fervently hoped that some sight-seer like himself might be +attracted to the old, out-of-the-way adobe, for Jo was now convinced +that it was impossible for him to set himself free. He tried again +and again, but always with the same result of semi-suffocation under +the sliding debris. +</P> + +<P> +The forenoon passed away. The sun, mounting higher, shone over the +dilapidated walls, and fell full on Jo's face. He shielded his eyes +with his free hand. The sun beat heavily on his head. Sometimes he +thought he heard a rustle in the wild oats, and he cried out for +help, but he afterward concluded the sound had been made by the wind +or by some lizard. +</P> + +<P> +Gradually the shade began to lengthen in the adobe. Jo looked +wistfully at the shadow of the wall as it stretched a little farther +toward him, and he sighed with relief when at length the sun that +had made his head so hot was guarded from his face by the shadow +that reached him. He had lain here a number of hours, and now, as he +began to think about evening, he wondered what his father and mother +would do when he did not come home. If they had not worried about +him during the day, they would be alarmed at night. +</P> + +<P> +"There are some coyotes around the neighborhood," thought Jo. +</P> + +<P> +He knew that a number of poultry-yards had suffered from coyotes. Jo +did not suppose that a coyote would usually attack a person. +Chickens, lambs, young pigs, were a coyote's prey, but in Jo's +present situation he did not care to be visited by a coyote. +</P> + +<P> +"I could throw clods at him," thought Jo. "I hope that would scare +him away." +</P> + +<P> +As the sun sank, Jo shouted repeatedly, till his breath was gone. He +hoped that some laborer might take his homeward way across the +unfrequented hill. But the prospect of such relief seemed very +slight, so unused was this place to visitors. Jo saw a wild bird fly +far overhead in the glow of the evening sky. The bird could go home, +but he could not. He could only wait—how long? +</P> + +<P> +After a while, there was the sound of clumsy feet that jolted by the +adobe. Jo heard. +</P> + +<P> +"Come here!" he cried with all his strength. "Come here! Come here!" +</P> + +<P> +The clumsy feet stopped. There was a creaking sound, as of baskets +swung to the ground. A face peered through a break in the wall, and +Quang Po climbed into the adobe. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho'lah!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho'lah!" faintly responded Jo. +</P> + +<P> +Quang Po wasted no more words, but set to work. He had not much to +dig with, save his tough, yellow hands and a stick, but after nearly +an hour's exertion, he released Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"You' bones bloke?" asked Quang anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"No," responded Jo, wincing. "My arm hurts, but I guess it's only a +sprain." +</P> + +<P> +"Me cally fish to lady," explained Quang. "Me go closs hill to +lady's house. Hear you holler." +</P> + +<P> +Jo tried to stand, but found himself dizzy and faint, and Quang Po, +leaving his baskets, went home with the lad. +</P> + +<P> +Next day, Quang Po, going his rounds, was carrying his fish-baskets +past Jo's house. Jo, sitting on the steps, his arm in a bandage, +made a sign to Quang to stop. +</P> + +<P> +"My mother wants to buy some fish of you," Jo said. +</P> + +<P> +The fish were bought, and Quang was thanked by Jo's mother for +helping her boy. Quang went back to his baskets again, but Jo +followed. +</P> + +<P> +"Quang Po," he said, choking a little, "you very good to me." +</P> + +<P> +Quang Po smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Quang," confessed Jo, "I helped the other boys cut the sinkers from +your big net, once." +</P> + +<P> +Quang nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Me sabe," (understand) he answered, "me sabe long time ago." +</P> + +<P> +"I helped the other boys cut the line that held up your flounders," +faltered Jo. "I helped tip over the fish-frame." +</P> + +<P> +Quang Po nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Me t'ink so," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"What for you good to me?" demanded Jo. +</P> + +<P> +"Me Clistian," responded Quang Po with gravity, as if that one word +explained everything. "Clistian must do lite." +</P> + +<P> +Jo looked at him. Quang lifted his heavy baskets on his pole. +</P> + +<P> +"Goo' by," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Say—Quang Po," burst out Jo, "I'm sorry! I won't bother you any +more! I won't let the other boys do it, either! I can stop it." +</P> + +<P> +Quang Po smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Me glad you solly," he said. "We be good flends, now." And he +trotted away, the heavy baskets creaking. +</P> + +<P> +Jo looked after him. +</P> + +<P> +"And I thought you were the heathen!" he whispered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="igloo"></A> +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE NEW IGLOO. +</H2> + +<P> +The sky was lowering. The small storm-"igloo," or round-topped snow +house, was full of Eskimo dogs that had crowded in to shelter +themselves from the bitter wind. This small igloo was built in front +of the door of a bigger round igloo in which an Eskimo family lived. +The dogs' small igloo was built where it was, to keep the wind and +the cold from coming in at the family's igloo door. +</P> + +<P> +Over the snowy ground a boy, clad in a reindeer coat, came running. +His brown cheeks were flushed, and his black eyes were bright with +excitement. His lips curved and parted over his white teeth as he +chuckled happily to himself about something. He rushed to the very +low door of his home, dropped down on his hands and knees, put some +slender thing between his teeth, pulled the hood of the reindeer +coat up over his head so as to keep the snow from slipping down the +back of his neck, and then scrambled quickly through the low +opening, pushing aside the dogs, till he reached the interior of the +larger igloo. Then the boy jumped up and snatched the thing he had +held in his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, see, see!" he cried, holding up his treasure. "See what the +teacher gave me!" +</P> + +<P> +What he held was the half of a lead pencil, a rarity to him, given +to him now as a prize at school. +</P> + +<P> +"And see!" cried the excited lad once more. +</P> + +<P> +He pulled from his reindeer coat a piece of paper. The paper was +part of his prize, too. He made some rude marks on the paper with +his pencil, and held them where they were visible by the light of +the small stone lamp, shaped like a huge clam shell, and burning +with walrus oil. The lad's face was illumined with enthusiasm. Never +before had he owned such treasures. To think they were his own! He +had earned them by good behavior, and diligent, though extremely +slow, attempts at learning. A sarcastic laugh came from one side of +the platform of snow, that was built around the whole circular +interior of the igloo. On the platform lounged the lad's brother, +Tanana. "You went without your breakfast yesterday, and ran to +school, and now you come back with those things!" laughed Tanana. +"You are a dog of the teacher's team, Anvik! He can drive you." +</P> + +<P> +Anvik's black eyes snapped. +</P> + +<P> +"He does not drive me!" cried the boy. "He teaches me to want to +learn! I have gone to school many days. I want to learn, to learn! I +can make A and B. See!" +</P> + +<P> +He pushed his paper with its awkwardly formed letters farther into +the lamp's light. The edge of the precious paper took fire, and with +a cry of alarm, Anvik smothered his paper in the snow. +</P> + +<P> +His brother laughed again. +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow will be another day," he said. "Why should anybody learn +for to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +But the mother of the two lads stretched out her hand, and took the +paper, and looked at the straggling marks. The fat baby, that she +carried in the hood of her reindeer suit, crowed over her shoulder +at the piece of paper, and Anvik forgot to be angry. He put his +pencil in his mother's hand. She looked curiously at the strange new +thing. +</P> + +<P> +"You make A, too, mother," urged the boy; and, putting his hand on +his mother's, he tried to show her how to make the strange marks. +</P> + +<P> +His mother did little more than touch the paper with the pencil. She +smiled at the tiny dark line she had made, and gave back the pencil +and paper to the boy. She was proud of him, proud that the strange +white man should have thought her boy good enough to give him such +queer things. Anvik saw her pride, and felt comforted. +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow will be another day," murmured Tanana from his lounging +place. "The teacher is wrong. He makes that loud sound when school +begins. The wise man says the teacher must not make that sound any +more, for it will prevent our people from catching foxes and seals." +</P> + +<P> +"It is the school-bell," answered Anvik, knowing that the Eskimo +sorcerer had gone to the teacher but a few days previous, to +prophesy evil concerning the ringing of the bell. "The foxes and the +seals care not for it. Go to school with me, Tanana, to-morrow. The +teacher wants you." +</P> + +<P> +Tanana did not answer. He drew a bottle from out of his skin suit +and drank. Anvik looked at his mother. The odor of the liquor spread +through the small round house. Anvik had not noticed the odor when +he came in, being then too excited over his prize to have room in +his head for any other idea. But now he felt a great sadness of +soul. Tanana and their father were both beginning to learn to drink. +The sailors who came to the shore had liquor with them sometimes, +and traded it to the natives. +</P> + +<P> +The teacher at school had told the boys never to touch the sailors' +liquor. The teacher said it would steal the boys' souls. Anvik did +not understand that very well, but he knew liquor made Tanana and +their father cross and lazy, and the laziness kept them poor, and +the mother was sad. +</P> + +<P> +Anvik lay long awake that night, on the raised platform of snow in +the igloo, and thought. +</P> + +<P> +"My teacher said he heard that at one Eskimo village a canoe came +with whisky and the Eskimos pounded on a drum all night, and +shouted," thought the lad. "When the morning came, the people were +ashamed to look in the face of their teacher. My teacher said I must +pray the dear Lord Christ to save Tanana and my father from +drinking." +</P> + +<P> +And Anvik prayed in the dark igloo. +</P> + +<P> +The next day came, and Anvik went again to school, but Tanana and +the father went off to look at the ice-traps wherein Eskimos catch +any stray wolves or foxes. +</P> + +<P> +When Anvik came back at night to the igloo, he met his father and +Tanana rejoicing over a bear cub that they had killed. They were +bringing it home with them, and were laughing, and shouting, and +singing, not so much from joy as from drinking together from the +bottle that Tanana had procured. +</P> + +<P> +"We have a bear cub, a bear cub!" shouted Tanana in maudlin tones to +his brother. "See how strong the hot water we drink makes us! We +come home with a bear cub! Hot water, let us drink hot water!" +</P> + +<P> +Now by "hot water" Tanana meant of course the liquor in his bottle, +and when Anvik saw the young bear and the condition his father and +brother were in, the lad immediately became very anxious, for the +Eskimos are usually very careful not to kill a young bear without +having first killed its mother. It is considered a very rash thing +to kill the cub first, and when men who are pressed by hunger do it, +they are obliged to exercise the strictest precaution lest they +should be attacked by the mother-bear, for she will surely follow on +the track of the men. +</P> + +<P> +So the Eskimos usually go in a straight line for about five or six +miles, and then suddenly turn off at a right angle, so that the +mother-bear, as she presses eagerly forward, may overrun the +hunters' track and lose her way. The men go on a distance, and then +turn as before. +</P> + +<P> +After doing this several times, the men dare to go home, but even +there weapons are placed ready for use by the bedside, and outside +the house sledges are put up right, for the bear is always +suspicious of the erect sledge, and she will knock it dawn before +she will attack the igloo. The knocking down of the sledge makes a +noise that gives warning to the family. +</P> + +<P> +But when Anvik saw the condition that his father and brother were +in, he was greatly frightened, for he did not believe that the +liquor had left enough sense in their minds so that they had +remembered to turn off in the homeward journey, and, if they had +come home without covering their track, there could be no doubt that +the mother bear would come to attack the igloo that very night. +</P> + +<P> +But it would do no good to say anything to Tanana and his father. +They were far too much under the influence of what they had been +drinking. Anvik told his mother his suspicions. +</P> + +<P> +"We will set up the sledge outside the igloo," said his mother, +trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"I will have my harpoon ready," answered Anvik bravely. "Do not +fear, mother. Perhaps the bear will not come." +</P> + +<P> +They put two harpoons and a spear beside the raised platform of snow +in the igloo, after the father and older son were stupidly sleeping. +</P> + +<P> +Then came an anxious time of waiting. The stone lamp's light grew +more and more dim to Anvik's drowsy eyes, as he, too, lay on one +side of the circular platform. Nothing disturbed his father and +brother in their heavy, liquor-made sleep. Anvik's eyes closed at +last, even while he was determined to keep awake. His mother, tired +with scraping and pounding skins, nestled her chubby baby in her +neck, and dropped asleep; too, after long watching. The igloo was +quiet, except for the heavy breathing. +</P> + +<P> +A terrible noise arose outdoors. Anvik started into consciousness. +There was an uproar of dogs, awakened by the destroying of their +small igloo. The sledge fell. The family igloo seemed to shake +throughout the entire circle of hard snow blocks. The dome-shaped +hut quaked under the attack of some foe. +</P> + +<P> +"Father! Father, wake up!" screamed Anvik, springing to his feet. +"The bear! The bear has come! Father! Tanana!" +</P> + +<P> +He rushed to their side and shook them, but he could not rouse them. +</P> + +<P> +"Wake up! Wake up!" screamed Anvik. +</P> + +<P> +His mother caught one harpoon. Anvik seized another. The great paws +were digging into the igloo! The dogs had attacked the bear, but she +fought them off, killing some with the powerful blows of her claws. +</P> + +<P> +"Be ready, Anvik!" warned his mother. +</P> + +<P> +The side of the igloo gave way! A dreadful struggle followed. There +was a chorus of barks and growls and screams. The bear fought +desperately. The struggle and the falling snow partially wakened the +father and son, but they were stupidly useless. The dogs attacked +the bear's back. Anvik, watching his chance while the bear was +repelling the dogs, drove a harpoon into the animal. The bear +savagely thrust at the lad, but the dogs leaped up and Anvik's +mother drove her harpoon into the enemy. As well as he could in the +darkness, Anvik chose his opportunity, and as he had seen older +Eskimos do, skillfully avoided the attacks the bear strove to make +upon him, till at last he managed to drive the sharp spear to the +animal's heart. +</P> + +<P> +All was over at last. The shrieks, the growls ceased, and the dead +bear lay among the ruins of the igloo. +</P> + +<P> +The next day Anvik stayed away from school to help build a new +igloo. His father and Tanana did not talk much, from the time when +they laid the blocks of extremely hard snow in a circle till the +time when the inwardly-slanting snow walls had risen to the topmost +horizontal block that joined the walls. But, once during the +building, when the three workers had taken great flat shovels, made +of strips of bone lashed together, and were throwing loose snow +against the sides of the new igloo to protect its future inhabitants +from the cold, the father stopped, and turning to Tanana said: +</P> + +<P> +"My heart is ashamed! The hot water made us forget to hide the way +to the igloo, and when the bear came to kill my wife and children, +the hot water made us sleep. My heart is ashamed." +</P> + +<P> +And Tanana, keenly humiliated that his younger brother and not +himself had killed the bear, answered, "My heart is ashamed, also." +</P> + +<P> +"The hot water bottle shall not come to my mouth again," resolved +the father, with determination. +</P> + +<P> +And Tanana promised the same. The bottle had been broken in the +scuffle, but Tanana knew his father's and his own promise included +any other bottle of liquor. +</P> + +<P> +"You shall go to the teacher's school with Anvik," decided the +father. "The teacher speaks well when he tells the boys that the hot +water will steal their souls. If Anvik had drank it, we should all +have been killed." +</P> + +<P> +Anvik jumped up from chinking a crack between two snow blocks. He +remembered his prayer, and he laughed aloud now with joy for the +answer. +</P> + +<P> +"The new igloo is better than the old!" he cried. "The hot water +will never go in at the door of our new igloo!" +</P> + +<P> +And in his heart the boy added, "May the dear Lord Christ come into +our new home!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Triangle, by Mary E. Bamford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE TRIANGLE *** + +***** This file should be named 3660-h.htm or 3660-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/6/3660/ + +Produced by Ralph Zimmermann, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. 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Bamford + +Posting Date: April 29, 2009 [EBook #3660] +Release Date: January, 2003 +First Posted: July 5, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE TRIANGLE *** + + + + +Produced by Ralph Zimmermann, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +OUT OF THE TRIANGLE. + + +A STORY OF THE FAR EAST. + + + +BY + +MARY E. BAMFORD. + + + +CONTENTS + + OUT OF THE TRIANGLE + THE SQUASH OF THE ESVIDOS + THE VERSE MARTIN READ + BY THE WAY + AT COUSIN HARRIET'S + COMALE'S REVENGE + AT THE PANADERIA + MISS STRATTON'S PAPER + AN HONEST DAY'S WORK + TIMOTEO + THE VICTORY OF QUANG PO + THE NEW IGLOO + + + + +OUT OF THE TRIANGLE + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +A voice rang through one of the streets of Alexandria. + +"Sinners, away, or keep your eyes to the ground! Keep your eyes to +the ground!" + +The white-robed priestesses of Ceres, carrying a sacred basket, +walked in procession through the Alexandrian street, and as they +walked they cried aloud their warning. + +So, for four centuries, since the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, had +priestesses of Ceres walked and called aloud their admonitions +through this city; though of late years men had come to know that +what the sacred basket held was a live snake, supposed to be the +author of sin and death. + +Before the great temple of Ceres in the southeast quarter of the +city, the crier stood on the steps of the portico, and proclaimed +his invitation: "All ye who are clean of hands and pure of heart, +come to the sacrifice! All ye who are guiltless in thought and deed, +come to the sacrifice!" + +Among the passing people, the lad Heraklas shrank back. When the +sacred basket of Ceres had met him, he had bent his eyes downward, +deeming himself unworthy of the sight. And now, as the crier's +invitation rang from the portico, "All ye who are guiltless in +thought and deed, come to the sacrifice!" Heraklas trembled. + +Swiftly he hurried away and passed down the broad street that led to +the Gate of the Moon on the south of Alexandria. + +At length he reached the gate, but swiftly yet he pushed forward a +short distance along the vineyard-fringed banks of Lake Mareotis. +Heraklas lifted up his eyes, and marked how the vines by the lake's +side contrasted with the burning whiteness of the desert beyond. The +glaring sand shimmered in the heat of the flaming Egyptian sun. A +thin, vapory mist seemed to move above the heated, barren surface of +the grim sea of sand. Heraklas stretched out his hands in agony +toward the desert, and cried aloud, "O my brother, my brother +Timokles! How shall I live without thee?" + +The soft ripple of the lake beside him seemed like mockery. The +tears rolled slowly down his cheeks, as he looked toward the +pitilessly unresponsive desert of the west and southwest. Then +Heraklas, helpless in his misery, raised his hands with the palms +outward before him, after the custom of an Egyptian in prayer, and +addressed him whom the Egyptians thought the maker of the sun, the +god Phthah, "the father of the beginnings," "the first of the gods +of the upper world." + +"Hail to thee, O Ptahtanen," began Heraklas, "great god who +concealeth his form, . . thou art watching when at rest; the father +of all fathers and of all gods. . . Watcher, who traversest the +endless ages of eternity." + +The familiar words brought no comfort. Between him and the +shimmering desert came the memory of his brother's face, and +Heraklas forgot Ptahtanen, and cried out again in desperation. + +His eyes strained toward the desert. Somewhere in its depths, his +twin brother Timokles, the being whom of all on earth Heraklas most +loved, lived,--or perhaps, in the brief week that had elapsed since +he was snatched from his Alexandrian home, had died. Timokles had +forsaken the gods of his own family, the gods his own dead father +had adored, Egypt's gods. The lad would not even worship the gods of +Rome. Timokles had become one of the Christians, and had, in +consequence, been falsely accused of having, during a former +inundation, cut one of the dykes near the Nile. This offense, in the +days of Roman rule, was punishable by condemnation to labor in the +mines, or by branding and transportation to an oasis of the desert. + +Timokles, innocent of the crime charged upon him,--having been at +home in Alexandria during the time when he was accused of having +been abroad on the evil errand,--was dragged away to exile, for was +he not a Christian? Living or dead, the desert held him. The Roman +emperor, Septimius Severus, who ruled Egypt, had lately issued an +edict that no one should become a Christian. What hope was there for +Timokles? + +"He will never come back!" said Heraklas now, with a low sob, as the +desert swam before his tear-filled eyes. "O Timokles!" + +There was a rustle among the leaves not far away. Heraklas turned +hastily. + +But it was no person who disturbed his solitude. Heraklas saw only +the head of an ibis, called "Hac" or "Hib" by the Egyptians, and the +lad, mindful of the honor due the bird as sacred to the god Thoth, +the Egyptian deity of letters and of the moon, made a gesture of +semi-reverence. He remembered what the Egyptians were wont to say, +when on the nineteenth day of the first month, they ate honey and +eggs in honor of Thoth: "How sweet a thing is truth!" + +Heraklas murmured with a heavy sigh, "Timokles told me he had found +'the truth' O Timokles, is thy 'truth' sweet to thee now? Oh, my +brother, my brother!" + +Heraklas cast himself down among the vines, and wept his unavailing +tears. Little did the lad, reared in a pagan home, know of the +sweetness of the Christian faith, for which Timokles had forsaken +all. + +Heraklas' small sister, the child Cocce, sat on the pavement in the +central court of her home in Alexandria. Above her towered three +palms that shaded the court. Beside the little girl was an Egyptian +toy, the figure of a man kneading dough. The man would work, if a +string were pulled, but Cocce had thrown the toy aside. Lower and +lower sank the small, brown head, more and more sleepily closed the +large, brown eyes, till the child drooped against a stone table that +was supported by the stone figure of a captive, bending beneath the +weight of the table's top. + +As Heraklas entered the court his eyes fell upon his sleeping little +sister, but he noted more closely the stone captive against which +she leaned. Heraklas marked how the captive was represented to bend +beneath the table's weight. The boy's eyes grew fierce. Captivity +seemed a cruel thing, since Timokles had gone into it. + +Heraklas flung himself on a seat covered by a leopard's skin, and +gazed moodily upward at the palm-leaves, one or two of which stirred +faintly under the slight wind that came from a corridor, whither the +wooden wind-sails,--sloping boards commonly fixed over the terraces +of the upper portions of Egyptian houses,--had conducted the current +of air. + +Borne from the streets of Alexandria, there seemed to Heraklas to +come certain new, half-heard noises. He listened, yet nothing +definite reached his ears. + +At length, seeing through a range of pillars a slave moving in the +distance, Heraklas summoned the man, and asked what was the cause of +the faintly-heard sounds. + +"The people destroy the possessions of some of the Christians," +humbly replied the slave, whose name was Athribis; and Heraklas, +stung to the quick by the answer, impatiently motioned the man away. + +Left alone, Heraklas lifted his head proudly. He would ignore the +pain. What had he to do with the Christians? He, who had watched his +consecration-night in the temple of Isis; he, who had caught some +sight of the Mysteries sacred to that goddess; he, who had worn the +harsh linen robe and those symbolic robes in which a novice watches +his dream-indicated night--what had he to do with Christians? Would +that Timokles had observed the emperor's command that no one should +become a Christian! Heraklas groaned. + +The dismissed man-slave, Athribis, looked cautiously back through +the pillars, and smiled. None knew better than he how any reference +to the Christians stabbed the hearts of this family. Athribis +himself hated the Christians. He longed to be out in Alexandria's +streets this moment, that he, too, might be at liberty to pillage +the Christians' houses. Who knew what jewels he might find? And he +must stay here, polishing a corridor's pavement, when such things, +were being done in the streets! His dark eyes glanced back again. +Heraklas' head was bowed. + +Stealthily Athribis passed out of sight of the court. He threaded +his way through corridors. + +"Whither goest thou?" asked another slave by the threshold. + +"I go to the market to get some lentiles," glibly replied Athribis; +and, passing, he quickly gained the portal and the street. + +"One, may find that which is better than lentiles," Athribis +communed with himself, as he wound hither and thither through the +excited crowds. "Should a Christian have jewels, and I none? I, who +am faithful to the gods!" + +With this the slave plunged into a company of house-breakers, and +with them boldly attacked the dwelling of a Christian. It was easily +taken, and Athribis rushed with the company into the interior. +Stools and couches were wrenched to pieces, cushions were torn, +tables were overthrown. + +"Woe to the Christians of Alexandria!" fiercely muttered one man. +"We will root them from our city! They shall die!" + +The crude brick of the building gave way, in places, under repeated +blows. The stucco of the outer walls fell off, and was tracked with +the crushed brick into the halls. Some of the rude company, rushing +to the flat roof of the building, discovered there, hidden by a +wind-sail, a treasure-box, as was at first supposed. On being +hastily opened, however, the box was found to hold nothing but some +rolls of writing. Contemptuously the box was kicked aside. + +"Come down! Come down!" cried voices from the court. "Here are the +Christians!" + +The loud clamor from below announced that the Christian family had +indeed been discovered, and would be taken to prison. + +The company on the roof made haste to descend, to witness the +family's humiliating exit. As Athribis passed by the box again, he +looked more curiously at it. Surely the scrolls must be of some +worth. He could not read, but perhaps something of value might be +secretly hidden inside each of these scrolls. Who knew? It must be! +It seemed incredible that even Christians would be foolish enough to +fill a treasure-box with nothing but rolls of writing, and then +conceal the box so carefully behind this wind-sail! + +Athribis purposely lingered a little behind the other men. He +snatched up the rolls, and having hidden them in his garment, +hurried from the roof. + +"I am a Christian," calmly said a voice in the court. "Yea, I have +striven to bring others to Christ." + +There stood the father of the household, his wife, and their two +children, one a girl of thirteen, the other a boy a little younger. +They had broken the emperor's decree. The father did not deny the +charge brought against them. It was his voice that Athribis had +heard, and the same voice spoke on: + +"My children," continued the father, "our days on earth come to a +close. Let us sing our twilight hymn, for now indeed our work is +nearly done." + +Above the scornful tumult rose the four voices, singing the +"Twilight," or "Candle Hymn," of the early Christians. The +children's tones trembled a little at first, but soon grew firm, as +if sustained by the calmness with which the parents sang. The angry +faces around the court became yet more fierce with hatred, as, +through a moment's pause, the rioters listened to the words of the +hymn: + +"Calm Light of the celestial glory, O Jesus Son of the Eternal +Father, We come to thee now as the sun goes down, And before the +evening light We seek thee, Father, Son And Holy Spirit of God. Thou +art worthy to be forever praised by holy voices, O Son of God; thou +givest life to us, And therefore doth the world glorify thee." + +Mocking cries arose from the mob. Not daring to linger longer, +Athribis ran out of the house, and hastened homeward, full of +apprehension as to what might await him. + +"Where are the lentiles?" asked the slave by the threshold, as +Athribis, forgetful, in his excitement, of the excuse he had made +for his departure, passed swiftly and softly in. + +"I found none," quickly answered Athribis, with alarm. + +He sped silently to his former place of work, and fell to polishing +the pavement with a zeal unknown before. He knew well enough that +the slave by the threshold would not believe in that excuse, +lentiles being plentiful enough. Terror had robbed Athribis' +deceitful tongue of its usual cunning, and now he silently bewailed +his startled answer. If the slave by the threshold should report to +Heraklas' mother the fact that Athribis had been away! + +Athribis longed to have time to unroll the scrolls which he had +hidden in his garment, but he dared not look at them till he should +be alone. + +A voice sounded in the court. Athribis redoubled his zeal: He +recognized the tones of Heraklas' mother. + +"I was not long gone! I was not long gone!" the guilty Athribis +hastily assured himself. "Surely she hath hated the Christians, even +as I hate them! I was gone but a moment! Surely she cannot know! If +I find treasure in my rolls, I will give some to the slave by the +threshold. Surely, treasure is as dumbness to a man!" + +The footsteps of the mother of Heraklas drew near. The servant bowed +over his work, and dared not lift his eyes. She did not stop! And +Athribis looked breathlessly after the woman, as she passed +majestically on. + +"Surely she hath not known what I did!" he gasped as the stately +figure disappeared among the columns. "Isis preserveth me from +stripes! My feet are unbeaten!" + +Athribis waited till night, when the household slept. Then he crept +out of the little chamber on the roof where the slaves were wont to +sleep, according to the custom of Egyptian households. + +A dim thread of a moon floated toward the west. Athribis crept to a +far part of the roof. The wind blew somewhat, but it did not cool +the fever of excitement felt by him. Within a moment he might be +rich! He might find gold in these scrolls! + +He drew out the scrolls. Surely there was something firm inside this +one! He felt something! He narrowly scanned the Christians' papyrus, +as he hastily unrolled it. His lips were parted with eagerness, his +breath panted into the heart of the scroll, as he held his face down +that he might see. He unrolled the papyrus to the end. He sat up, +and drew a breath. His bare feet kicked viciously at the unrolled +papyrus. No treasure in that first scroll! He seized the second. +With eagerness all the greater because of his former disappointment, +he searched through this roll, his face bent down till his eyelashes +almost swept the surface of the writing. In vain! There was nothing! + +"These Christians! What cheats they are!" + +He snatched the third roll. With trembling fingers he unrolled this, +the last of the papyrus scrolls. There must be something hidden! It +could not be possible that he would be disappointed in the last +scroll! Was there no treasure? Not a thin wedge of gold at the heart +of this papyrus? Not a jewel, not anything that savored of riches? + +Athribis' shaking fingers unrolled the papyrus to its very end. +Nothing but the continuous writing, and the stick on which the +scroll had been rolled! His limp hand let fall the end of the +papyrus. It descended upon the heap at his feet. Had he dared, he +would have cried aloud in his disappointment. + +But it was not his voice that pierced the night. Some one had seen +him! + +"A robber!" cried a woman's tones. "A thief! On the roof!" + +Athribis leaped to his feet. He caught the papyri. Alas, alas! they +were not rolled, now! The wind tossed the long streamers, and as +Athribis in fearful haste snatched them, the breeze blew one scroll +entirely free. It, swept from the roof, and, descending into the +court, hung in a long strip from one of the palms. + +The dismayed Athribis cast the other papyri on the roof, and fled. +It was time. The house was being aroused by the cry of the woman. +With his bare, silent feet, Athribis sped through the shadows of the +corridors to what he thought a secret spot, and hid himself. The +house resounded with outcries. Feet ran hither and thither. + +Out in the court, hanging all unseen from a palm-tree, swayed the +papyrus, the written copy of part of the Sacred Book of the +Christians! + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +It was night on the Libyan desert. The stars glittered on the rocky +highlands that compose so much of that desert, and lit faintly, too, +the areas between, where stretches of sand waited to be shifted by +the next simoon that should blow. + +In one spot, at the edge of a rock, there was a movement of the +sand. Out of it a form slowly rose. + +The sand shook near by, and another person appeared. Another arose, +and another, till five had arisen. + +The man who had first appeared spoke, slowly, in a voice that told +of exhaustion. + +"The Emperor Septimius Severus reigneth over our land," he said. "He +hath forbidden that any one should become a Christian. But how shall +we cease to tell men of Christ? How shall he cease to draw men to +himself?" + +"Severus hath not been always thus," answered another voice, faint +with weakness. "Proculus, the Christian, once saved the life of +either Severus or his child, and the emperor took Proculus into the +palace and treated him kindly, and chose a Christian nurse for +Severus' boy, Caracalla. When the Romans rose against the +Christians, Severus shielded our brethren. Oh, that the priests of +the false gods of Egypt had not enticed our emperor!" + +"Alas for him!" responded the first voice. "The Emperor Severus +worshipeth the false gods of Egypt, but we serve the Lord Christ. +Farewell to Egypt's gods! They shall pass, but Thou shalt endure!" + +"Amen," murmured the lad Timokles. "Even so! Thou art Lord of lords, +and King of kings, O Christ!" + +Suddenly there was a cry of other voices. Up from the rocks of the +plateau behind the five there sprang a second group of persons. + +The five Christians, knowing the voices of their former heathen +captors, fled. The lad Timokles was closely pursued. He felt, rather +than heard, close behind him, the footsteps of his enemy, and, +turning sharply, Timokles sped away in another direction. + +Here and there, back and forth, the two ran in the star-lit +darkness. The five Christians were widely scattered now. Shouts and +cries came faintly from a distance. Timokles rushed toward the rocky +plateau. + +"Stop, Christian, stop!" cried his enemy, leaping forward with +outstretched hand. + +But Timokles fled, stumbling over stones. On came his enemy's swift +leap behind. A piercing cry, as of some one in agony, rang from the +desert's distance. Timokles sped faster. + +"Stop!" commanded the voice of the runner behind. "Stop!" + +A swift prayer burst from Timokles' lips. He fled on, his pursuer so +near sometimes that Timokles' heart failed him. + +"Stop!" screamed his foe. "Stop!" + +The fierce command pulsed through Timokles' brain. The man behind +suddenly slipped, stumbling over the stones. He fell heavily, and in +that instant's time, Timokles darted forward behind one of the +rocks, and, creeping underneath it, lay breathless in the darkness. + +The man struggled to his feet. Up past the other side of the rock +rushed the pursuer. Timokles, quaking, expected every instant to be +discovered. + +"Where art thou?" savagely called the man. "Where?" + +He ran hither and thither with fiercely muttered imprecations. Now +his footsteps sounded farther off, and now again he ran back and +came softly stealing around among the rocks. Timokles laid his +branded cheek against the gravel, and waited. + +The footsteps went, and came, and went again in the dark. Timokles +trembled from head to foot. He did not fear death, but he dreaded +capture and unknown terrors. + +The dark form passed by again. A chill went over Timokles, as he +thought he saw a weapon in the man's hand. + +The footsteps became inaudible once more. Timokles, waiting a long +time, imagined his foe might have gone. As the lad was about to lift +his head, a hand brushed along the side of his rock, and reached out +into the dark, underneath. Timokles was perfectly quiet. The hand +above him felt down the sides of the rock, waved in the darkness +above the boy, descended and rested an instant on the gravel next +him--but did not touch him. The silent menace of the groping hand +was terrible. Timokles held his breath. + +The hand passed on, feeling of other rocks. + +"O God of thy people, thou hast hidden me!" cried Timokles in his +heart, as he heard the soft rubbing of his enemy's hand against the +farther rocks. + +The sound died away. Timokles lay listening for a long time. Once he +thought he heard a creeping sound, but it was only the wind. + +Sleep came upon him at last, and when he woke it was day. He dared +not come out, but lay there through the torrid hours, moistening his +lips now and then with a little water from the small, skin +water-pouch he carried. + +The sun plunged beneath the horizon at last, with the usual seeming +suddenness observed in the desert. Night was welcome to Timokles, +and he came forth. The lad's heart was very lonely. He looked toward +the northeast, and remembered his Alexandrian home--his mother, the +brother with whom Timokles' whole life had been bound up, the little +sister Cocce, whom Timokles had last seen playing gleefully with a +toy crocodile, and laughing at its opening mouth. + +"O Severus!" whispered Timokles, "what didst thou see, when thou +visitedst Egypt five years ago, that thou shouldest decree such evil +against the Egyptian Christians now?" + +Softly Timokles went his way in the dark. He was hungry, yet he +dared eat little of the dried dates he had with him. When would he +find other food? + +For a time he looked warily around, but soon his sense of loneliness +overcame his fear, and he watched more for some sign of his four +friends than for an indication of an enemy. + +"Perhaps some Christian hath escaped, even as I have," thought +Timokles. + +He started. + +Outstretched before him lay a figure of a man! Timokles stood +motionless, till he perceived the man be to be asleep. Then the lad +bent over the sleeper to scan his face. But, as Timokles stooped, he +dimly saw, in the relaxed, open palm of the man's hand, a small +stone of the triangular form under which the Egyptians were wont to +worship Osiris, Isis, and Horus. Such are the stones found in the +tombs of the Egyptians. + +This was no Christian sleeper that lay at Timokles' feet! The lad +turned and fled into the distance. + +Through the desert there wailed a thin, plaintive cry. It was the +voice of a night-wandering jackal. + +Timokles was dizzy to faintness, and staggered as he was driven on. +He had been discovered and taken. His life had been spared that he +might henceforth be a slave. + +"I bear this for thy sake, O Lord, dear Lord!" murmured the +exhausted lad, as the blows drove him through the pathless desert. + +Again came the plaintive cry of the wandering jackal. + +"For thy sake!" faintly repeated Timokles. + +A few minutes passed, and once more the jackal's inarticulate voice +wailed through the desert, but Timokles had fallen, helpless. A man +sprang forward, and the lash fell again and again on Timokles' +prostrate body, but the boy did not stir. + +"Now see how the Christian would die in the desert, and cheat us of +all the work he might do!" grumbled the vexed voice of a dismounted +camel-rider. "He is young. There are many years of work in him!" + +"Leave him!" scornfully advised another, who held a torch. "Some +beast will find him." + +"Nay, but he shall go with me to Carthage," asserted a third, from +the height of his camel's back. "Carthage knoweth what to do with +Christians!" + +"Who art thou that thou shouldest own the Christian?" demanded the +first, angrily gazing up at the presumptuous rider. "Did I not find +him?" + +The mounted camel-rider laughed, and tossed something toward the +irate speaker. The man caught the object, a ring of gold, containing +a scarabaeus. + +"Take it," said the giver to the appeased rival. "The Christian is +mine." + +The unconscious Timokles was taken up at a sign from the camel-rider +to one of his servants, and the cavalcade proceeded on its way. As +his camel paced forward, Pentaur, the purchaser, glanced back twice +or thrice. + +"Truly," he assured himself with much complacency, as he perceived +Timokles being carried, "I follow the maxim of Ptah-hotep: 'Treat +well thy people, as it behooveth thee; this is the duty of those +whom the gods favor.'" + +As Pentaur, for that moment, thought of the dread hour when, after +death, according to Egyptian belief, he should stand before the +judgment-seat of Osiris, the camel-rider felt convinced that he +would have merl which might stand him in good stead in that ordeal. + +Little by little, Timokles regained consciousness. He marveled to +find himself carried. He had expected to be killed where he fell. +The many painful welts of the lash's stripes stung him with keen +pain. + +"O mother! mother!" Timokles' heart cried silently. + +Had she indeed lost all love for him, since she had told him she +wished he had died rather than become a Christian? + +"Lord Christ," cried Timokles' breaking heart now, "I have left all +for thee!" + +The company pushed on rapidly. At length, after morning with its +heat had come, the party halted, and the slave who had carried +Timokles flung him on the sand, the slave comforting himself that +possibly the evil of the Christian's touch might be warded off by a +symbolic eye of Horus that the pagan wore tied to his arm by a +slender string. Such eyes were often used by Egyptians as amulets +and ornaments. + +When the hot hours of the day were past, the caravan again made, +ready to go on. The merchant, Pentaur, summoned Timokles, and with +condescending good-nature, demanded his history. Timokles told it. + +"Why shouldest thou be a Christian?" commented Pentaur. "See, we +come to-night to Ammonium the oasis. Every camel-step doth lead thee +farther toward Carthage! Thou wilt perish there! Carthage doth hate +Christians!" + +Timokles looked into Pentaur's eyes. + +"Yea, I know that Carthage hateth them," the lad answered. "I heard +that four years ago, when the proconsul Saturninus persecuted the +Christians; and when a number were brought from the little town of +Scillita to Carthage to appear before the tribunal of Saturnin, one +man called Speratus spoke frankly and nobly for his brethren. When +the proconsul Saturninus invited Speratus to swear by the genius of +the emperor, the proconsul promising the Christians mercy if they +would do this and return to the worship of the gods, Speratus +answered, 'I know of no genius of the ruler of this earth, but I +serve my God who is in heaven, whom no man hath seen nor can see. I +render what is due from me, for I acknowledge the emperor as my +sovereign; but I can worship none but my Lord, the King of all kings +and Ruler of all nations.' So were the Christians taken to the place +of execution, where they knelt and prayed, and were then beheaded." + +Timokles' eyes fell. His voice trembled. + +"O Lord Christ," he added, reverently, "I also would be faithful +unto thee!" + +The merchant's piercing look regarded Timokles for a few minutes. + +"There were women among those twelve Christians who were brought +from Scillita to Carthage to die," continued Timokles, "three women, +called Donata, Secunda, and Vestina. When they were brought before +the proconsul, he said to them, 'Honor our prince, and offer +sacrifice to the gods.' Donata answered, 'We give to Caesar the +honor that is due Caesar: but we adore and offer sacrifice to God +alone.' Vestina, said, 'I also am a Christian.' Secunda said, 'I +also believe in my God, and will continue faithful to him. As for +thy gods, we will neither serve nor adore them.' + +"O my master," continued Timokles, with trembling voice, "thinkest +thou not that the God who so strengthened three women that they did +not shrink from death for his sake, could strengthen me to meet +death, also?" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Pentaur looked fixedly at the lad, who stood with no air of bravado +about him, but with an expression of humble trust that the merchant +could not fathom. + +"Why shouldest thou risk death?" questioned the merchant. "Death +will defeat a Christian." + +"Nay, O master!" exclaimed Timokles eagerly. "Death may be glorious +victory!" + +Pentaur smiled. + +"Oh!" broke forth Timokles earnestly, "I know a death that was a +glorious victory! Carthage knew of it! Didst thou not hear what was +done last year at Carthage? Didst thou not know of the Christian +lady, Vivia Perpetua, and the Christian slave, Felicitas?" + +A shudder ran through Pentaur, as Timokles continued: + +"Thinkest thou that what they suffered was nothing? Vivia Perpetua +was the best loved of a heathen father's children. How she suffered +in her heart, when her old father came to the prison and besought +her to give up Christ! 'Daughter,' begged the old man, 'have pity on +my gray hairs. Have compassion on thy father!' He wept at her feet. +He begged her to have pity on her little child. But she could not +give up Christ. Wert thou there, O Pentaur, when the governor +examined the prisoners? Didst thou see Vivia Perpetua's old father +press forward, carrying her babe in his arms, and beg her to recant +for the child's sake? Didst thou hear the judge ask her, 'Art thou +then a Christian?' and didst thou hear her answer, 'I am'?" + +Timokles paused. Pentaur had groaned. His face was hidden in his +hands. + +"And then," continued Timokles, "the wretched father, hearing his +daughter speak those words that doomed her to death, tried to draw +her from the platform. He was struck with a stick, and the judge +condemned Vivia Perpetua and Felicitas, with the other Christians, +to be exposed to the wild beasts." + +Another low groan broke from Pentaur. Timokles hesitated an instant, +then hurried on: + +"The Christians were to die in the amphitheatre of Carthage. At the +gate of the amphitheatre, the guards offered the men among the +Christians the red mantle of the priests of Saturn, and offered the +women the fillet worn by the priestesses of Ceres. But the +Christians refused. 'We have come here,' they said, 'of our own free +will, that we might not be deprived of our freedom. We have +forfeited our lives in order to be delivered from doing such +things.' Even the heathen could see the justice of this, and the +Christians were not compelled to wear the things. In the +amphitheatre, Vivia Perpetua and Felicitas were put into a net, and +allowed to be attacked by a wild cow. Then the two martyrs gave each +other the kiss of peace, and a gladiator killed them." + +Timokles paused once more. Still no response. + +"I remember hearing one thing more concerning Vivia Perpetua," +ventured Timokles. "In prison she had had a vision. She thought she +saw a golden ladder stretching up to heaven, and on either side of +the ladder were swords, and spears, and knives. At the foot of the +ladder lay a dragon. Perpetua thought in her vision that she was +commanded to mount the ladder. She set her foot on the dragon's +head, saying, 'He will not harm me, in the name of Jesus Christ,' +and went up the ladder. At the top she found a large garden, and the +Good Shepherd met her." + +Pentaur sprang to his feet, and put out a shaking hand. + +"No more!" he cried. "Oh, no more! No more! O Vivia, Vivia!" + +With a groan of anguish, Pentaur looked upward, as if behind the +desert's sky he might see again that youthful face, the face of that +sweet Christian with whom he had been acquainted from childhood and +whom he had last seen dying in Carthage's amphitheatre. Little did +Timokles know how the memory of Vivia Perpetua's death hour had +haunted Pentaur. They had been children together in Carthage, and +the martyrdom that Vivia Perpetua had suffered in her young +womanhood had impressed Pentaur more than all the agony he had seen +other Christians endure. When she gave up her life, he had clinched +his hands, and muttered fierce words against Carthage's gods, words +he afterward trembled to recall. He served those gods now, yet he +revered the memory of the Christian, Vivia Perpetua, as of one of +the holiest of women. + +Timokles ventured no further words. + +Pentaur summoned a slave, and committed to his care the young +Christian. The memory of Vivia Perpetua might pierce the merchant's +soul, but would not avail for Timokles' release. + +Bound to another slave to prevent escape, Timokles traveled with the +company that night, and before morning the oasis of Ammon, "Oasis +Ammonia," was reached. It was a green and shady valley, several +miles long and three broad, in the midst of sand-hills. Here, over +five hundred years before, had come the founder of Alexandria, +Alexander the Great, to visit the oracle of Ammon, the god figured +to be like a man having the head and horns of a ram. The statue of +Amun-Ra had then been loaded with jewels, through the reverence of +the merchants who halted their caravans at this oasis, and who left +their treasures in the strong rooms of the temple, while resting the +camels under the palm trees. + +All this Timokles remembered, as he stood beside the steaming +Fountain of the Sun in the oasis, and watched the bubbles that +constantly rose to the surface of that famous body of water. + +"O branded-cheeked cutter of dykes, art thou in very truth a +Christian?" contemptuously asked the slave that guarded Timokles. + +"I am, O friend," gently answered the lad. + +"Ill shalt thou fare in this oasis, then," threatened the slave. + +Timokles' eyes wandered over the landscape. The surface of the oasis +was undulating, and on the north it rose into high, limestone hills. +Date palms abounded near by Timokles. He could see the inhabitants +of the village, and the wanderers from farther, more isolated homes. +The oasis was composed of several disconnected tracts, and Timokles +heard that in the western part of the oasis there was a lake. + +Suddenly the lad became aware of a number of angrily excited voices. +At a short distance stood Pentaur the merchant, surrounded by a +group of men, but what he said was lost in the confusion of tongues. + +At length the merchant made a careless gesture, and walked away. + +"Take the Christian!" shouted fierce voices. + +A man ran straight from the group to Timokles. Without a word the +man seized the lad. Other hands assisted, and Timokles was hurried +away from the village, past palm trees and resting camels, toward +the north. Breathlessly the men dragged him a long distance over the +rising ground. No word of explanation was uttered. Timokles was +swept along, till at length the silent, determined company came to a +solitary, ruined building. + +Timokles was pulled over the fallen stones, across what had once +been the court of the dwelling. Then the company reached a spot +where part of the house was still standing. Here a barred door shut +off further progress, but two of the men with great effort opened +the entrance. + +All grasping hands fell from Timokles. The company waited. + +"Go in, O Christian," commanded, a man. "Others have gone before +thee!" + +Timokles looked fixedly forward. Before him was a hall-way, leading +into the portion of the dwelling-house yet remaining. + +Timokles stepped forward. Eager hands pushed him quickly into the +hall and shut the door behind him. He heard the sound of bars that +fastened the door securely at his back. He was alone. What building +was this? + +He felt here and there in the dark hall. A peculiar odor floated in +the heavy air. Timokles hesitated, fearing he knew not what. His +eyes could not pierce the deep gloom. + +Resolving to see whither the hall led, he groped on, wondering if +this were the place in which the inhabitants of the oasis were wont +to confine prisoners. He came to a door. It opened readily to his +touch, and he passed into what had once been a large dwelling-room. +He stepped softly forward, noting the emptiness and desolation of +the place. The peculiar odor of the air was more noticeable than +before, but it was not till he had reached the middle of the +darkened room, and stood gazing about him, that he perceived at the +farther end, in the shadows, a space of yellowish fawn color, and +then saw manifold dark spots, also, that shaped themselves into a +large, living form. + +Timokles drew one quick breath. He softly retreated. Keeping his +eyes fixed on the huge, sleeping leopard, Timokles put out his hand +to take hold of the door through which he had come. His groping +fingers found nothing but the blank wall! + +Hastily turning with alarm, Timokles passed his hand over the wall's +surface. Surely the door had been here! There was no handle, no line +in the wall to indicate the existence of a door. + +How silently it had swung shut, when he had come through! He +remembered that there had been no noise. He pressed his full force +now against the wall. He tried it softly, cautiously, here and +there, till he had passed over the entire space in which he knew the +door must be, and yet the wall stood apparently blank and whole +before him! The other walls seemed to be solid. + +With beating heart, Timokles pushed once more at the partition. It +remained firm. Trembling with the shock of his sudden entrapping, +Timokles looked toward the room's far end. It was as he thought. The +beast was not chained. The sleeping leopard's spotted hide heaved +softly yet, with undisturbed breathing, and as Timokles watched +across the space, he remembered the ominous words spoken to him on +his entrance into this building: "Go in, O Christian! Others have +gone before thee!" + +For a time, overcome by the horror of his situation, Timokles leaned +against the partition, the door through which had so mysteriously +disappeared. His eyes, between quick glances at the sleeping +leopard, searched with desperate intensity every part of the room, +for some means of escape. + +"Is there no place?" he questioned. + +Stealthily he crossed the apartment, and felt of the opposite wall. +It was immovable. Nowhere in it could he discover any opening. + +The beautiful beast, the waking of which meant so much to Timokles, +stirred a little. The claws of one foot were drawn up. Then the foot +was relaxed again. The leopard continued to slumber. + +High above Timokles were two small windows, closed by wooden +shutters. The half-ruined flat roof showed holes here and there +where the old palm branches of its construction, covered with mats +and plastered with mud, had given way. Had it not been for these +holes in the roof, Timokles would hardly have had light enough to +perceive the leopard, for the wooden shutters of the two windows +prevented their being of much service. + +Even with the roof's holes, the room was dark. The rents in the roof +were much too far above Timokles to help him to escape; however, and +he reflected that if the roof had been lower, the place would +hardly have been chosen for the confinement of a wild beast, the +present height of the walls preventing the escape of the leopard, as +well as that of any Christian. + +The leopard stirred again! + +"He wakes!" thought Timokles, summoning his courage for that waking. + +But the great cat only moved his head to a somewhat more comfortable +position, and continued to sleep. + +Timokles repassed slowly and silently so much of the walls as was +accessible to him. The wall next to the sleeping beast could not be +safely examined, yet Timokles, looking through the gloom, noted from +his distance no more promising signs than were exhibited by the +other three sides of the room. Most of all did he linger about the +spot where, it seemed to him, he had entered, and more than once as +he touched the surface of the wall, seeking for some hidden spring, +he thought he heard behind him the leopard's soft footsteps, but, +turning hastily, found himself mistaken. + +At length, in his search, Timokles slightly stumbled over some lumps +of mud that had fallen from the roof. The crunching sound partly +aroused the leopard. With a long-drawn sigh, the drowsy creature +stirred and rose slowly to his feet, stretching himself. He did not +yet see Timokles. + +How beautiful the spotted hide was! Timokles, watching with steady +eyes for the instant when he should be discovered, had a fleeting +memory of that leopard-skin that covered a seat at home in. +Alexandria. He would never sit there again. + +Even in these dread moments of suspense, there flashed across +Timokles' mind the memory of the saying of the martyr Ignatius, +bishop of Antioch, who was sent to Rome to fight with wild beasts: +"I am God's wheat; the teeth of the fierce beasts will but bruise +me, that I may be changed into the fine bread of my God." + +It was the moment of discovery! The leopard had been standing, +looking around half sleepily. Now his great eyes spied the lad. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The beast gave a quick, purring sound of satisfaction. His tail +began to sweep to and fro. His hungry eyes were eager. + +Timokles stood quiet. The leopard walked slowly forward. Timokles +retreated, still facing the leopard. They passed down one wall. They +turned, and proceeded along another. They turned again, and passed +the third. Now they turned, and this wall was the one that Timokles +had not before had opportunity to examine closely, because of the +leopard's proximity to it. But now he dared not look from the +leopard. + +"Oh!" whispered Timokles' pale lips, "what shall I do!" + +Suddenly life seemed sweeter to him than ever before. He must not +fall into the jaws of this fearful beast! To be caught in this +death-trap, and be torn to pieces! It must not be! He did not regret +that he had avowed his belief in Christ. He would do such a thing +again, if necessary. No less, there grew within him a determination +to ward off this beast as long as possible. + +"Oh, Lord, help me! Deliver me!" whispered Timokles. + +They turned another corner, and once more the two enemies proceeded +down the treacherous wall through which Timokles had entered the +room. Even as he retreated, Timokles with a last hope kept one hand +pushing against this wall. But they reached the other corner, and +turned, without any revelation of an opening. The leopard walked +leisurely, but steadily. Softly the footsteps of Timokles and the +beast sounded in the room, one footfall answering another. Backward, +backward, went Timokles--now a turn of a corner--backward, backward. +Another corner. This was the wall by which the leopard had slept. +Backward, backward! The lad could not pause, but now, as he neared +the end of the wall and looked up once beyond the leopard, Timokles +saw, in the dark corner that he had passed, what he had not before +noticed when near enough to see it, as he had not before lifted his +eyes from the leopard. In that farther, dark corner there was a +darker line that marked the wall for some distance from the roof. + +Timokles dimly perceived that the line was part of one of the old +palm branches, that, years ago, had been laid across the split date +tree that formed the roof's beam. At the time of the making of the +roof, the palm branches had no doubt been securely fastened, and now +this portion of a branch which hung down was still attached to the +top of the outer wall of the building, but had ceased to be +connected with the central split date tree beam, and had fallen +inward, hanging near the wall. Did the palm branch hang low enough +so that, if he jumped, he could grasp it? + +The portion of the old palm branch was a slender thing. It would not +have borne the leopard's weight. Probably the animal had tried to +clutch the branch before now. The lower end might be frayed by his +claws. + +"Will the branch bear my weight?" questioned Timokles. + +He dared not rush across the room, and leap toward the hanging palm +branch. He felt certain that if he should turn his back, the leopard +would spring immediately. How quickly the beast was coming! +Timokles' head whirled. He was dizzy. + +Suddenly the leopard growled. He crouched as if to spring, and +Timokles, with a wild cry, fled across the room toward the palm +branch. After him rushed the leopard. + +Timokles jumped. He grasped the palm branch with one hand. The other +brought a handful of frayed bark down. He caught hold of the branch +with both hands just as the leopard sprang into the air. + +Timokles swung aside as far as possible. A great mass of mud, +dislodged from the roof, fell, smiting alike boy and beast, +enveloping them in a cloud of blinding dust. The lad clung to the +branch with desperate strength, though his support was swaying to +and fro. The claws of one of the leopard's paws raked Timokles' arm, +and then the beast dropped to the floor. + +The leopard's angry cries stunned Timokles' ears. He clutched the +palm branch tightly. From the swaying motion and the sound of a +slight, though ominous, cracking, Timokles doubted if his support +were reliable. + +The rage of the leopard was frightful. He seemed beside himself. He +leaped and rushed hither and thither, as he saw Timokles climbing +higher. + +The boy shook with exhaustion. His right arm bled from the wounds of +the leopard's claws. He was alarmed lest the old palm branch should +break or should loosen from the wall. If he once fell back into the +leopard's jaws, there would be a swift end to this skirmishing. + +Timokles looked down at the eager eyes. Then he scanned the palm +branch narrowly. It did not hang parallel with the wall, but stood +out a little from it, and Timokles thought that the branch was +partly broken, up next the roof. He hardly dared climb much higher +for fear of breaking it entirely off. So he lay along the branch, +clasping it with his arms, and shut his eyes. He heard the leopard +walk impatiently around, stop, utter an angry cry, walk restlessly +again, spring unavailingly into the air, drop heavily to the floor. + +At last Timokles opened his eyes. A yellow light, turning into +darkness, seemed to fill the space before him. Alarmed, he strove to +overcome this faintness. He knew his arm had been bleeding a little, +but he had not before this feared unconsciousness. Now he began to +feel that he must reach the roof. His faintness might prevent him +from clinging to the palm branch much longer. + +With Timokles' first motion the leopard was alert again. Timokles +climbed cautiously. He was nearing the roof. There was a cracking +sound, such as he had heard, before. The leopard moved vehemently. +Suddenly the branch cracked so that it swung Timokles against the +wall. The leopard's movement sounded like a leap. + +Timokles was sure that the branch was giving way. He was nearly to +the roof. He clutched at it. The mud-covered, rotten mat that he +grasped broke through his fingers, and the dust descended into his +face. He grasped again, with the same result. The branch was +momentarily growing looser. The leopard was ready. + +Timokles grasped again--again--again! The rotten mats and the mud +with which they had been plastered came away in great handfuls. He +could hardly see, for the descending dust. He grasped blindly, +desperately. He felt something firm! It was another palm branch that +his fingers reached as he dug through the mud. He held on with the +clutch of despair. + +His head just reached a hole in the roof. He missed his grasp, and +fell back on the swinging, broken palm branch. With one final, +cracking sound it parted! Timokles' one hand grasped the top of the +wall; his other hand reached the outer part of the roof. He heard +the old palm branch fall, and the leopard spring to meet it. + +Dragging himself upward, panting with exhaustion, Timokles succeeded +in mounting through the hole to the outside of the roof. His foot +plunged through a mat. He recovered himself, and crawling to a +little distance from the hole, he lay down on the roof. The sun was +high in the heavens, but all the world became black to Timokles. + +He lay there, faint, for hours. When he could look up at last, the +sun was descending toward the west. Far overhead sailed the sacred +hawk of Egypt, and the bird's piercing cry, full of melancholy, +reached Timokles' ears. The shadow of a palm tree stretched outward +and touched him. + +"Oh, God!" whispered Timokles reverently, "Thou west Daniel's God. +Thou art mine!" + +Night had fallen. Timokles, lying in the dark, heard a sound beside +the building. Some one was coming! + +Timokles crept to the roof's edge farthest from the sound, and lay +down. + +The head of a man appeared above the roof's level. Evidently he was +not accustomed to the roof, for he was very cautious in his +movements, and tested every step he took. He carefully approached +one of the holes of the roof, and, kneeling, put his face down to +the aperture. + +The man spoke, and, by his tones, Timokles recognized Pentaur the +merchant. + +"Oh, Christian!" cried Pentaur into the depth of the building, +"livest thou? Ill shall I fare at the judgment of Osiris for this +day's deed!" + +There was silence. + +Perhaps, from the darkness of the room below, Pentaur could see the +shining of the brute's eyes, or hear his uneasy stepping to and fro. +Something sent a shudder of horror through the man. + +"I have taken pleasure in righteousness," he protested. "I have +heretofore done no injury to men who honored their gods. Oh, Osiris, +I have been righteous!" + +There was an awful horror in the man's voice. Timokles was moved +with compassion for his former owner, and yet the lad kept silent. + +"Shall I speak to him?" Timokles questioned himself. "If he shall be +beset in some other place by those who hate Christians, will he not +abandon me again to my enemies?" + +The merchant waited a moment longer. + +"Oh, Osiris!" then he wailed again, "I have been righteous! He was +only a Christian!" + +The merchant sprang up, and sped toward the edge of the roof where +he had first appeared. His foot plunged to its ankle through a weak +place in the mats. He shrieked aloud at the fear of falling through +into the room below. Hurrying forward, he disappeared down the side +of the building. Timokles heard the man running among the fallen +stones. The footsteps grew faint, and ceased to be audible. + +Timokles drew a breath of thankfulness. He crept and felt in the +dark for a few, scattered dates that he had before noticed lying +near the roof's edge, the fruit having fallen from a date palm and +having lain there till nearly as dry as shards. But there was still +nutriment left in the dates, and, having eaten nothing since +morning, he gnawed the fruit. + +He could not descend by the date palm's trunk, for that was too far +from the roof to be reached by him. The palm's straight trunk shot +up twenty cubits above the roof's level, and, after the manner of +the date palm's growth, bore no branches, such as the doum palm has. + +"How did Pentaur climb?" thought Timokles. + +The lad passed to the other edge, where the merchant had +disappeared. Here, a little lower as yet than the roof, he found a +group of young doum palms, the branching stems of which variety of +trees he had noticed here and there in forest-like clumps throughout +the oasis. Timokles found no difficulty in descending with the doum +palms' help, and he reflected that perhaps food for the leopard was +often brought up this way, and thrown to the creature through the +roof's holes. No one had come to-day with food, because the +Christian had been sent to keep the leopard company! + +The village, some distance away, was quiet. Scarcely had he gone a +score of steps before he saw a star reflected in a spring at his +feet. Timokles dropped upon his knees, and with thankfulness drank +of the refreshing water. How he had longed for some, as he had lain +on the roof under the parching sun this day! He bathed his scratched +arm, which had ceased to bleed but still felt very sore. + +Carefully Timokles crept over the fallen remnants of the old +building. Then he turned from the direction in which the village +lay, and set his face toward the northern limestone hills. + +He was concealed among them when the sun rose. It would be folly for +him to venture out alone upon the desert without food, even if he +had water in his small skin bottle. As the morning went by, Timokles +saw a few desert hares, but otherwise he was alone. Toward evening, +being compelled to find some food, he searched the district, and +found, under the stones, the nest of some wild bees. With much +difficulty Timokles obtained a little of the honey. + +A falling stone attracted Timokles' attention. Turning with quick +affright, he saw a woman. There was a startled suspicion in her +eyes, as she gazed at him. She held a young gazelle that had strayed +away and had been the object of her search near these hills. +Suddenly the woman disappeared without a word. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"Let me hide speedily!" Timokles warned himself. + +He ran, but shouts arose behind, and before he could conceal +himself, two men came running after him. The woman's shrill cry was +audible. The men came up with Timokles, and laying hold of him in a +manner not wholly rough but still imperative; they brought him back +with them to the spot where the woman still stood. + +The three looked at him with curious yet not wholly unfriendly eyes, +and Timokles felt relieved on seeing that he was not recognized as +any one whom they had seen before. This spot was so far from that on +which the building stood where he had been given to the leopard, +that the lad concluded these people had not witnessed that scene. +Pentaur's caravan would have left the oasis before now. Probably the +merchant was about to renew his journey at the time of his visit to +the leopard's den. + +The woman pointed to Timokles' branded cheek. Taking heart from the +apparent lack of real hostility in the manner of his captors, +Timokles asked for something to eat. He was understood, and the +three, taking Timokles, turned from the hills, and proceeded +eastward, till, coming to a black tent near some palms, the woman +went in and brought Timokles some barley cakes. + +While the boy ate, the two men, still watching him, betook +themselves to work. They seemed to be makers of idols. The father +was carving a small wooden statuette of the god Thoth. The son +worked on a larger idol, the goddess Apet, or Thoueris, in the shape +of a hippopotamus walking upright on hind feet. The idol was of +green serpentine, and the mother watched with evident pride the +skill with which her son worked. + +Timokles moved to rise, and instantly the suspicious eyes of the +young hippopotamus-sculptor flashed. The father dropped his +statuette, and, fiercely springing forward, forced Timokles to the +ground, bound him, and went back to the carving of the ibis-head of +Thoth. + +Beneath the hand of the younger idol-maker, the hippopotamus grew in +hideous perfection. Helplessly Timokles watched the process. The +mouth of the hippopotamus-goddess was almost shut, but the teeth of +the lower jaw were visible, and it was upon their making, as well as +upon that of the wide nostrils, that the young man was expending his +skill. The huge ears of the goddess descended on the fore-feet, +which were placed on the sides of the upright animal, as a man's +arms hang by his sides when he walks, and from each of the +hippopotamus' arms there descended to the level of her feet the +Egyptian emblem of protection, called "Sa." + +As Timokles looked at those emblems of protection, a new thought +grew within him. + +"Women will worship that hippopotamus-goddess and think themselves +safe! I worship the God of heaven, and yet I am afraid! Shall I not +put as much trust in the delivering, protecting power of my God, as +the idol-worshiper will put in this hippopotamus?" + +There came the sound of hurried footsteps, and a young girl ran by +the black tent, and spoke gayly to the woman. From the resemblance +of the maiden to the worker on the hippopotamus, Timokles had no +doubt she was his sister. But when the girl, turning her brilliant, +laughing face toward Timokles, first saw him, her dark eyes dilated +with a look of startled horror. + +Timokles knew, as well as if she had spoken, that she was one of +those who had seen him dragged to the leopard's home. He looked +beseechingly at her now, as she stood transfixed, the shocked +expression deepening in her eyes. If she should say a word! Timokles +could feel himself tremble. She had thought him dead! She knew him! +If she should say so! + +The silent appeal of Timokles' beseeching face seemed to find its +answer for the moment. The girl turned toward the work of the idol-makers. +No one beside Timokles had noticed her frightened gaze. Now, +with assumed carelessness, she watched her brother's busy fingers, +yet Timokles felt that her thoughts were of him. She had only to +speak; to say, "This is the Christian who was thrown to the +leopard," and father and son would drop their work, spring upon him, +drag him back all the way to the building from which he had escaped, +and toss him, bound and helpless, to the leopard. + +It was not till nearly dark that the idol-makers ceased their work. +Having eaten dried dates and barley bread, the father and the son, +first tightening Timokles' thongs, went away in the direction of the +far distant village. During their absence, the girl came to +Timokles, bringing him water and dried dates. + +"Tell me, O Christian," she whispered in the tongue of Egypt, "art +thou not he?" + +She needed not to make the question more explicit. + +"I am, O maiden," answered Timokles. The girl's awe-struck eyes +searched his face. + +"Did thy God deliver thee?" she questioned, whispering still. + +"Yea," replied Timokles reverently and truly. "Yea, O maiden, my God +delivered me from the leopard." + +The girl looked alarmed. She drew back. + +"Did he come to thee?" she asked in a terrified whisper. "O +Christian, no one ever before came back from the House of the +Leopard! O Christian; I am afraid of thy God!" + +There was real terror in her voice. Timokles was moved with +compassion. He leaned forward, eager to explain to her the truth. +What should he say? + +"He is a great God, the only God!" whispered Timokles, reverently. +"O maiden, he is not like an idol! He is the only God. Thou canst +not see him, yet he seeth and loveth thee. Speak to him, and he will +hear. He loveth us. He sent his Son to die for our sins. For that +Son's sake, O maiden, he will blot out our sins, if we entreat him. +O maiden, pray no more to idols! Lo, I tell you of the true God!" + +He hardly knew whether she understood or not. She gazed at him as if +half comprehending his words, and then the fact of his having +returned from the House of the Leopard seemed to overwhelm every +other thought, and she murmured, "O Christian, I am afraid of thy +God and thee!" + +She fled back to the black tent. Timokles' bound hands made but +awkward work of eating. He could hear the voices of the mother and +the daughter talking in the mother's tongue, but what they said he +knew not. Would the father or the son learn something about their +captive? + +The voices hushed within the tent. The hours of sleep came on. + +The night had grown black. There were footsteps audible. + +"They have come back!" thought Timokles. + +The father and the son had returned, and with them came another man. +Timokles heard and understood something of what was said at the +tent's door in the dark. + +"If I may but see his face, I shall know whether he hath been here +before," declared the new voice eagerly. "I have seen all who have +come to our village." + +"Thou shalt see him in the morning," impatiently answered the maker +of the hippopotamus. "Knowest thou not that on this day I cannot +make a flame by which thou shouldest see? It is the eleventh day of +Tybi, concerning which it is commanded by the priests of Egypt, +'Approach not any flame on this day; Ra is there for the purpose of +destroying the wicked.'" + +"I fear no flame!" muttered the new voice discontentedly. "Let me +but see the stranger!" + +"There shall no flame be kindled!" burst out in wrath the +superstitious father. "Bide thou till morning! Then shalt thou see +the branded one." + +Silence followed. The discontented villager did not dare say more. +After a short time, the quietness of slumber seemed to envelop the +black tent. + +Concealed by the dark, Timokles endeavored with his teeth to loosen +the bonds of his wrists. After prolonged attempts, he undid one +knot, and by successive wearisome trials he at length entirely +released his left hand. + +Timokles was near the black tent. It seemed to him that he heard the +faintest stir within. But a long silence followed, and he thought he +had been mistaken. + +Timokles tugged at the thongs of his right hand. His arm was lame +from the leopard's claws, and he could not reach the knots that held +him. He struggled mightily, till at last he lay exhausted, no nearer +free than before. + +"I cannot do it!" he despaired. + +He must wait for dawn, for recognition, and for death, such death as +was thought meet for a Christian. Timokles shut his eyes, and +prayed. + +"Be with me, be with me, O Lord!" besought Timokles. + +Again within the tent he conjectured there might be a faint stir. + +"My enemy cometh!" he thought. + +But there was silence. Timokles waited, yet there came no sound. + +Remembrances of what he had heard concerning former martyrs crowded +upon him. He thought of Pothinus, the ninety-years-old bishop of +Lyons, who, in answer to the legate's question, "Who is the God of +the Christians?" boldly answered, "If thou art worthy, thou shalt +know," and was tortured so severely that he died in prison. Timokles +remembered hearing of Ponticus, the boy who, in the same +persecution, bore all the tortures unflinchingly, though he was but +fifteen years old. And Blandina, the maiden, who, tortured, +bleeding, mangled, still persisted in her declaration, "I am a +Christian! Among us no wickedness is committed," came to Timokles' +mind. His thoughts turned to the martyr Christians of four years ago +at Carthage, and he remembered the words of one of those Christians: +"We will die joyfully for Christ our Lord." + +Timokles prayed long and fervently. His heart went back to his +beloved Alexandrian home. Heaven would be sweet, but would his dear +ones ever know the only way there? Would they ever accept Jesus +Christ as their Savior? + +"O Lord, help Heraklas to know thee!" prayed Timokles with dropping +tears. + +Nothing did Timokles know of the roll of the Book of the Christians, +the papyrus that had swung from the palm tree in the court at home! + +Something made him turn his head. He started, for he saw, stretched +out toward him from beneath the black tent, an arm. No more was +visible. The black tent descended to the very ground. Looking more +closely, he discerned in the hand a knife. For an instant, Timokles +thought his enemy was upon him. But it was a small hand, and it was +the handle of the knife, not its blade, that was offered to him! + +Timokles stretched out his one free hand, and took the knife. The +arm disappeared beneath the black tent so swiftly and so noiselessly +that Timokles would almost have thought that the sight of the arm +had been an illusion had he not held the knife in his left hand. He +remembered the girl's words, "O Christian, I am afraid of thy God +and thee!" + +"Would that I might have told her more of Him!" wished the young +Egyptian, as he awkwardly cut at his bonds with the knife. + +He was free again! He crept softly away after pushing the knife's +handle back under the edge of the black tent. He felt that in the +secrecy of the tent one listened who knew he was free. + +"Thou didst put it into her heart to save me!" whispered Timokles +with a reverent look at the sky. + +He knew that as soon as his escape should be discovered there would +be instant pursuit, therefore he sought to travel as swiftly as +possible. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Athribis the slave bent lower--lower yet. What was this that he saw? +He was on the roof of the house in Alexandria. Through an open space +beside the wind-sail next to him, he could look into a small room +below. + +In that room, his master Heraklas knelt and carefully drew a brick +from its place in the wall. Putting his hand into some hole that +seemed to be behind the bricks, Heraklas produced a roll of papyrus. +He glanced stealthily around, and, kneeling still, unrolled the +writing, and read in eager haste, one hand on the brick, ready at +the sound of any coming footsteps to thrust the papyrus quickly into +the wall again. It was a thing well pleasing to the treacherous soul +of Athribis that he should have discovered some secret of his +master. + +"What is the writing, that he hideth it there?" the slave questioned +himself. + +Heraklas continued to read. Stretched on his perch, and straining +his neck to look, Athribis deemed the time long. His prying eyes +noted carefully the distance of the loose brick from the floor. +Athribis did not recognize the papyrus as one that he had seen +before. The sight of any papyrus, however, had been distasteful to +him since the night of his adventure on the roof, but he thought the +papyri of that escapade safely burned long ago. He knew that +Heraklas' mother had ordered those destroyed that were found on the +roof. Athribis supposed the one also burnt that had fallen into the +court. What else should have become of it? No suspicion concerning +it had crossed his mind till now. + +"Oh, that I could see what he readeth!" wished Athribis vainly. +"What meaneth that large sign? Is it the 'tau'?" + +Heraklas farther unrolled the papyrus, and the mark of the cross +that had caught Athribis' eye and had interested him, vanished. The +mark seemed to the slave like the Egyptian "tau" or sign of life; +used afterwards, curiously enough, by the Christians of Europe as a +prefix to inscriptions. Numbers of inscriptions headed by the tau +have remained even to the present time, in early Christian +sepulchres in the Great Oasis. + +"If that were the tau, there may be no harm in the writing," thought +Athribis sullenly. "Yet why hideth he here?" + +The supposed sign of the tau rolled in sight again, as Heraklas +shifted the papyrus. + +Heraklas had discovered the papyrus when it hung from the palm in +the court. Seeing the character of the writing, he had kept the roll +for secret perusal. He conjectured that the thief, supposed to have +been on the roof, might have dropped the roll. During the three +months that had elapsed since Heraklas found the papyrus hanging +from the palm, he had come often to this secret hiding-place. He +knew his mother would destroy the Christians' Book, if she saw it. +He knew the servants were not to be trusted in the matter. + +Frequently, during the first month, he had thought that he would +destroy the papyrus, and, as often, he had deferred doing so, so +much was he always drawn back to reading it. At the end of the +second month, Heraklas read with even more eagerness than at first. +Here was something that even the maxims of Ptah-hotep had not +attained. Never had Heraklas seen such a book as this Gospel of +John. Its words followed him when he was not reading. Why should the +words of Jesus of Nazareth cling to one's memory with so persistent +a force? Was it true that "never man spake as this man"? + +Even when Heraklas passed outside the city streets, and walked the +northern cliffs beside the sea, he was constrained to remember that +it was along these craggy places that, men said, a century and a +half ago, Mark, the first Christian apostle to Alexandria, had been +dragged by cords, at the time of the feast of the god Serapis. Then, +tradition said, there had arisen a dreadful tempest of hail and +lightning, that destroyed the murderous heathen. + +Was the Christian God greater than Serapis, the great deity of +Egypt? + +Such thinking sent Heraklas back again to study the papyrus of +John's Gospel. And now Athribis wearied, waiting for Heraklas' +reading to end. + +Suddenly Heraklas, attracted perhaps by the silent force that lies +in a human gaze; lifted his head from his reading, and glanced +upward. Athribis had not time to start aside. The eyes of the two +met in a long, piercing gaze! Heraklas sprang to his feet. The +papyrus fell, on the loose brick beside him. + +Athribis' head vanished instantly, and Heraklas, snatching the +papyrus, wound it closely, and thrust it into his garments. + +He hastily replaced the loose brick. No safe place for the papyrus +would the hole be, hereafter. + +When he met Athribis afterwards in a corridor, Heraklas felt his +heart beat more quickly against the hidden roll. But the lad was +stern in outward semblance. + +"Athribis!" he said. + +The slave bent before the lad. + +"How wast thou where I saw thee?" demanded Heraklas. + +"I was attending to the salted quail. Thou knowest they are drying +on the roof," explained Athribis, meekly. + +Heraklas felt compelled to accept the excuse. There were quail +drying, according to the custom of lower Egypt. + +"But what was it that I read in his face, as he looked down at me?" +Heraklas asked himself. + +Thenceforward, unspoken, yet felt as surely as though expressed, +there existed in Heraklas' mind a constant suspicion of Athribis. + +Heraklas carried the papyrus roll with him, day and night. Well did +he know the danger, but he said to himself that he would not be +dictated to by a servant. That was the ostensible reason he gave +himself for not immediately burning the roll. In reality, he knew +that the words of the Christians' Book had pierced his soul. He +dared not burn the book. He stood before its searching words a +convicted sinner. + +The suspicion of veiled surveillance that haunted Heraklas made him +cautious of reading his, papyrus at home. He sought places, to read +it abroad. Hidden among the crags beside the sea, or in the vines on +the banks of Lake Mareotis, Heraklas read, and waged the soul-struggle +that had risen within him. + +One day Heraklas had hidden himself among the northern crags beside +the great sea. His eyes were bent upon his roll. He had been reading +John's record of the conversation between Christ and the man who was +born blind. + +"Jesus said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God?" + +The man whose eyes Christ had opened, answered and said, "Who is he, +Lord, that I might believe on him?" + +"Dost thou believe on the Son of God?" + +It seemed to Heraklas that there came to him, also, Christ's solemn +question. With awe-struck lips, Heraklas whispered, out of a heart +that craved its answer, "Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on +him?" + +Heraklas bent above his roll. The answer of the Lord was there. "It +is He that talketh with thee." + +The lad dropped his papyrus, and covered his face. He bowed in awe. +For a long time he knelt there, pouring out his soul in prayer--but +not to Egypt's gods. And that which is written of the blind man was +fulfilled in Heraklas, also--"And he said, Lord, I believe. And he +worshiped him." + +When Heraklas rose from his knees, the sun was high in mid-heaven. +It was the time at home when his mother would burn myrrh to the sun. +But no prayer to Re or hymn to Horus escaped Heraklas' lips. How +should he, who rejoiced in the knowledge of sins forgiven, pray more +to false gods? + +A holy awe and a great joy wrapped his soul. The burden of sin that +had oppressed him, the hopeless burden which had not ceased to cause +Heraklas misery even when he made offerings to Isis and poured forth +prayers to Serapis, was gone, gone at the touch of Jesus. + +Plucking from his girdle his carnelian buckle, that signified to an +Egyptian the blood of Isis, said to wash away the sins of the +wearer, Heraklas leaned forward, and flung the rosy ornament far +into the white foam of the waves below. He could not wear that +heathen sign, even though his mother had given the ornament to him. + +"O Isis," murmured Heraklas, as he lost sight of the carnelian +buckle within the waves, "I care not for thy blood! I know whose +blood hath washed away my stain." + +With reverent rejoicing, he concealed his papyrus and turned +homeward. + +He passed into the great city. A woman was worshiping before a +statue of the god Chonsu, the moon. Heraklas went by quickly, making +no sign of reverence. Glancing back, he saw the woman gazing after +him. + +A little farther on stood a statue of Anubis. Other men, as they +passed, gave homage, but Heraklas did not turn his head toward the +idol. He noted, in the stalls and in the shops, the altars and +little idols. When he next went to purchase anything, must he do +reverence? Heraklas met a beggar and dropped a coin into his hand. + +"Isis and Osiris bless thee!" wished the suppliant. + +Heraklas' lips parted to answer. Should he, who had been blessed of +the Lord, seem to accept the blessing of idols? But the beggar +turned to another giver, and Heraklas hurried on his way. + +Before he could reach home, a sacred procession came in sight. +Already Heraklas could plainly see the leopard-skin that fitted over +the linen robes of the Egyptian high priest who was coming. Twelve +or sixteen inferior priests walked beside the superior one. The high +priest's lock of hair, pendant on one side of his head, became more +and more plain to Heraklas with every step of the procession. + +"They carry the shrine of the sacred beetle of the sun," suspected +Heraklas. "I cannot meet them!" + +He turned, and dashed down the first opening that presented itself. +The passage led him utterly out of his way. + +"But better so," meditated Heraklas, "than that I should have met +that skin-dressed priest!" + +He stopped an instant. His circuitous way had led him in sight of a +spot where he had once seen the Christian woman, Marcella, and her +daughter Potamiaena, passing on their way to martyrdom. How awful a +form of martyrdom was it that Alexandria visited upon that beautiful +Christian daughter! Gradually, hot, scalding pitch was poured over +her body, in order that she might endure the utmost torture +possible. + +Heraklas looked around him at the proud, beautiful city. + +"O Alexandria, Alexandria!" he whispered, "in thee is found the +blood of the saints!" + +For a moment the thought of such a death, as a Christian's +punishment, overcame him. Yet he remembered that it was through +Potamiaena's martyrdom that the soldier, Basilides, was led to +become a Christian also. He refused to take a pagan oath, and was +brought to martyrdom. + +When Heraklas reached home, he was trembling. His short journey had +been freighted with silent meaning. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Two men passed out of the Gate of the Sun, the northern gate of +Alexandria, and came to the docks that bordered the Great Port. The +gaze of one man wandered from the promontory of Locrias on the east +to the isle of Pharos on the north, and followed back the dyke that +connected that island with the docks and marked the division between +the Great Port and Alexandria's other harbor, the Port of Eunostus. + +"When that ship saileth," remarked the man, indicating a large +vessel moored in the Great Port, "some Christians go as ballast!" + +"How knowest thou?" asked the other. + +The former speaker smiled. + +"Thou didst not see a little procession that came through the Gate +of Necropolis last evening," he conjectured. "Some Christians +brought in from the desert. This ship carrieth them to Rome, to the +lions of the arena." + +An unbelieving spirit looked from the other man's eyes. + +"When the Christians see that ship waiting for them, they will +recant," he prophesied. "A man doth not readily take shipping for +the port of a lion's mouth!" + +"Thou dost not know the Christians," asserted the other. "They are +an obstinate people. Our Lord Severus knoweth that right well. See! +He hath forbidden all public worship for the Christians. Their great +school here bath been scattered. And yet, Christians remain +Christians still! It is incredible! Thou didst speak without knowing +what hath happened. The Christians have already seen the ship. They +are on it! Not one bath recanted. But the ship saileth not for two +days yet, and now, the men on board make merry. Hearest thou not +their voices?" + +A slave passed so near as almost to brush the speaker's apparel, yet +the man paid no heed. + +But Athribis had heard. For what else but to hear had he this +morning stolen down to the docks? He knew of the little company of +Christians that had been brought captive to Alexandria, for a slave +belonging to another household had told Athribis secretly, "He who +was once thy young master--the Christian, Timokles--hath been +brought in from the desert and goeth on the ship!" + +In his heart Athribis made answer, "The ship needeth another +passenger--my young master, the Christian, Heraklas!" + +But, as yet, Athribis hardly dared say so, for he had no certain +proof to bring of Heraklas' Christianity. If only he could find +decisive proof, and bring it before the authorities, what a reward +he might hope to have given him! + +Yet never, from the day when Heraklas spied Athribis watching the +reading of the roll, had the slave, with all his contriving, been +able again to catch sight of the papyrus. It was no longer kept in +its secret hole behind the bricks. Athribis had looked. + +Where else had he not looked? He had hunted the house through as +thoroughly as he had been able, snatching a hasty opportunity here +and there. If only he could lay hands on that very papyrus! If he +could have time to show it to somebody who could read! Deeply had +Athribis regretted that he had not been more cautious in his first +spying. But now, what hope was there? Athribis had set some of the +other slaves of the house to watch, but they had discovered nothing +save the old papyri that bad been in the house for years. Some of +the slaves could read, and they were sure this was so. + +Out on the docks, Athribis stared now at the large mast of the ship, +and at the ship's painted eye, and at the sculptured figure of the +goddess Isis on the visible side of the ship's bow, both eye and +figure, as Athribis knew, being duplicated on the bow's other side. +A small boat belonging to the large ship lay floating in the water, +but connected with the ship by a rope. + +Athribis dared not tarry longer. He hastened home again. + +Closer than ever, as he went his morning round of duties, did +Athribis watch, but Heraklas was invisible. + +"He is not at home. He went away three hours ago," cautiously +signaled the slave of the threshold to Athribis. + +The slave of the threshold, like Athribis, hated Christians. There +was a secret agreement between the two men that if Athribis ever +should gain any reward for betraying Heraklas to the authorities, +the reward should be evenly divided. Half should belong to the slave +of the threshold, in consideration of his having been apparently +asleep at times when Athribis went out without permission. + +The hours went by and Heraklas did not come, to be spied upon. + +That morning, Heraklas had gone out to seek some Christians whom he +knew. Two weeks ago he had sought them for the first time to tell +them that he wished to join their number. Greatly had he and they +rejoiced together. + +"Witness a good confession, as did thy brother Timokles," an old man +admonished Heraklas. + +Almost daily, since then, Heraklas had sought some Christian who +taught him more perfectly the way of the Lord. + +Today, as Heraklas sat in a house, secretly studying another portion +of the Book than was written on his own papyrus, a Christian woman +came hastily to him, and told him the tidings concerning his +brother. + +"He hath assuredly come!" affirmed the woman. "Vitruvius saw him +carried to the ship with other Christians!" + +The before eagerly-read papyrus dropped from Heraklas' hand. He grew +weak and faint. The woman looked at him pityingly. + +A wild impulse seized Heraklas. He rushed from the house to the +street. His brother, his Timokles, back again! Back from the desert! +Back in his city-home of Alexandria! And not to be allowed to draw +one free breath, to come back to the house, to see Cocce, to see +him, Heraklas! What could be done! What could be done! To be taken +to Rome to meet the lions! + +Heraklas ran toward the northern gate. He bethought himself of +caution, and tried to go with his usual step. He passed through the +Gate of the Sun, and by discreet inquiries discovered which ship the +Christians were on. Then he hid himself near one of the docks, and +watched the ship. + +Two days! One of the days partly gone already! Timokles would go +away never to return, surely, this time. + +"I also am a Christian!" cried Heraklas aloud. + +Only the swaying of the water against the dock answered him. He +sprang up and walked out on the dyke that stretched toward the isle +of Pharos. Opposite him, the ship showed still more plainly than +from the docks. Heraklas made out the prayer inscribed on the +vessel: "Do thou, O Isis, preserve in safety this ship over the blue +waves." + +"O Timokles! Timokles!" cried Heraklas, as he stretched his hands +toward the ship. + +Heraklas walked the dyke till the burning sun of noon forced him to +find shelter. He went back to his hiding place at the docks. He +watched and waited through the long hours. + +At length the day departed. When the darkness covered the surface of +the harbor, Heraklas rose and girt about him the ample dress he +wore, of fine linen, that descended to his feet. + +He slipped softly into the water, and swam toward the ship. Reaching +the small boat that floated by the ship, Heraklas drew himself up +into the little craft. + +He listened to the lap of water on the side of the ship. A sudden +joy shot through Heraklas that they were so near together, Timokles +and, himself. It was for this he had stayed outside Alexandria till +the gates were shut. It were better to be a homeless Christian on +this water than to linger in godless Alexandria! + +He heard sounds of revelry on shipboard. Heraklas pulled on the rope +that fastened the small boat to the ship. The rope was stout and +well-fastened. + +In the dark, he began to climb the rope with trembling fingers. Now +he hung by the side of the ship, and now, one hand above another, he +drew himself higher, higher, till he grasped the ship's side. He +struggled over it, and dropped down on board in the darkness. He +waited. No one came. He heard sounds of men that laughed and talked +loudly. + +He crept a little distance. A rope dangled in his face. He found +himself under the aperture where the buckets for bailing were +worked. After long and careful groping, Heraklas concealed himself +in the vessel's hold, and waited. He suspected that the Christians +were in the hold, but he was afraid to search far. + +He had not been long hidden before he heard near him the sound of a +great sigh and the rattling of a chain, as of some animal half-wakened +from sleep. + +"It is some wild animal that is to be taken to Rome," suspected +Heraklas, not without a little uneasiness at his own proximity to +the beast. + +It was likely that the creature was well secured, yet the lad crept +farther away. He could hear the sound of feet above him and the +laughter of men who, no doubt, were drinking on this almost their +last night in port. + +A sound came from another portion of the hold, and Heraklas +listened, trying to discover whether the living being in that +direction were a beast or a person. While he listened, a faint light +began to shine in the hold. There descended softly into the hold two +men, one bearing a light. Heraklas drew back farther into the +darkness. The men passed on, their light held so that Heraklas did +not see their faces. But the hasty glimpse that the lad had of his +surroundings told him that the beast he had crept away from was a +lion that was securely caged in one portion of the hold. + +Softly the two men proceeded toward the direction from which +Heraklas had heard sounds. Stealthily Heraklas rose. He surmised +where the two men were going. He wished, yet hardly dared, to +follow. + +The light swung one side. One man turned to speak to the other, and +the light fell full on the speaker's face. + +Heraklas leaped softly forward, and followed without hesitation. For +the face he had seen was the face of Athribis! + +There were eight of the Christians. Heraklas, peering from a +distance behind, saw the light held high, as the men paused beside +the Christians. Absolutely exhausted, most of them, by the forced +march of the desert, and by the lack of enough food, they were +asleep, and Heraklas noted with a great pity their gaunt faces. + +Athribis bent eagerly forward, scanning one worn countenance after +another. + +"Hold the light this way--more this side--here!" he said. + +Athribis laid his hand on one sleeper's shoulder, and turned him, +slightly. + +"This is he!" joyfully exclaimed Athribis. "This is he! I had feared +he was not among these, after all. This is he! I would know him +anywhere! I never saw that brand, though. That is what made him look +differently to me at first. But this is he! This is he!" + +"Cease thy prating!" warned his companion, fearfully. "If the men of +this ship were not so drunk, thou wouldest have little time to talk! +Thinkest thou I care nothing for my head? Hasten! Wake him, if thou +wilt, but hasten! Thinkest thou the petty coin thou gavest me will +pay me for my head? Hasten! They think I am guarding these prisoners +safely." + +"Small time wilt thou spend guarding them, if thou knowest where +aught is to drink!" responded Athribis sarcastically. "How much hast +thou drank today?" + +The wearied Timokles slumbered on, regardless of the light and +talking. + +Back in the dark, Heraklas clasped his hands. A mighty sob rose in +his throat. The Christian was indeed Timokles! How worn he was! And +that brand upon his cheek! + +Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening. + +"Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze, +he recognized the slave. + +"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I +see you once again. My Christian master!" + +The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone. + +Timokles looked around, bewildered. A quiver passed over his lips. +Athribis reminded him of home. + +"Is my mother here?" asked Timokles. A sorrow deeper than tears +looked from his eyes. + +Athribis smiled. "Thy mother!" he said. + +The tone was a sufficient answer. Timokles' eyes fell. + +"Thou wilt never see her again," went on Athribis. "Thy mother +hateth thee! She is faithful to Egypt's gods, if thou art not! I +came here only to be certain thou wert on the ship." + +"Camest thou from her to me on that errand?" asked Timokles calmly. + +Athribis laughed, and turned to go. + +"Farewell, my Christian master! Farewell!" said the slave, +mockingly. + +There was an instant's silence. The great lion sighed from his cage. + +Then answered Timokles' low voice, "O Athribis, may my God become +thine, also!" + +A laugh came, as the slave's reply. Athribis and his conductor went +away. The light faded from the hold. + +Heraklas crept near the Christians. + +"Timokles!" he whispered. "Timokles! O Timokles, my brother!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though +there was a startled movement among them. + +"O my brother! my brother!" murmured Heraklas, the tears running +down his face in the dark, "I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!" + +"Heraklas!" cried Timokles, "Heraklas! How camest thou hither?" + +"Peace!" whispered Heraklas in terror. "Thou wilt be heard!" + +Heraklas cast his arms about his brother and clung to him. + +"How art thou bound, my Timokles?" asked Heraklas, when they had +embraced and wept together. + +"My feet are bound with naught but cords, but a chain about my body +fasteneth me to a hook in the wall," answered Timokles. "Thou canst +not release me, my brother! Flee, while thou canst!" + +"Nay, but I will try," whispered Heraklas resolutely. + +He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that +bound his brother's ankles, cut the knots. Timokles sighed with +relief, as he moved his cramped feet. The feet of two of the other +Christians were bound with thongs, and these Heraklas cut also, but +the other five Christians were bound hand and foot with chains, and +for them Heraklas' knife could not avail. Timokles and the other two +had been considered weaker in body, or else the persons who secured +the Christians had been in haste to join the reveling of the +mariners, and had thought cords strong enough. Yet what availed it +that the feet of any of the Christians were free, if their bodies +were securely bound? + +"Thou hast done all thou canst, Heraklas," whispered Timokles. "Go +now, my brother. O my Heraklas, I rejoice thou art a Christian! Go! +We shall meet again in the kingdom of our God!" + +"I will never leave thee," answered Heraklas, firmly. "The men are +drinking themselves senseless. I will try what I can do." + +He felt the wall till he found that Timokles' chain was held, not by +a hook, but a staple. It was only after long labor with his knife +around this staple that it shook a little in its hold on the wall. +Then Heraklas seized the staple, and swung his whole weight upon it, +and dug his knife into the wall like a madman. He worked with +perspiration standing on his forehead, his breath coming in pants. +Furiously, with all his strength, he dug and pulled till the staple +yielded, and he fell down among the prisoners. But the drunken men +on deck did not hear. + +Heraklas labored on, till at last he threw his arms about his +brother. + +"Stand up, my Timokles," he begged. "See if thou art not free!" + +Timokles arose. Nothing hindered him. + +"O Heraklas!" he whispered, trembling with excitement. + +"Sit down again and rest, till I help our brethren, also," whispered +his brother. + +But though Heraklas toiled with all his remaining strength, he +succeeded in releasing but one other Christian. + +"Leave us," urged the others. + +"O my brethren," answered Heraklas with a sob, "would that I could +save you!" + +But the six Christians answered steadily, "Why weepest thou, +brother? We but go to our Father's house before thee." + +Then he whose feet Heraklas had released, thanked him most heartily, +and all said farewell. + +Hours had gone by since Heraklas first came on board the ship. +Cautiously he and Timokles and the other Christian crept out of the +hold. Every movement of their own affrighted them, though they knew +a drunken stupor rested on some of the ship's company. One after +another the three fugitives finally slipped into the water. Heraklas +bore up Timokles, who swam but weakly. The third Christian was +feeble, but he made headway, and in slow fashion they came at length +to the docks of Alexandria. + +By this time it was long past midnight. That Timokles or the third +Christian, whose name was Philo, should enter the city was not to be +thought of, since they would be recognized and retaken. After +consultation it was agreed that Timokles and Philo should proceed +along the edge of the sea in an easterly direction and hide +themselves at a point agreed upon, on the coast, a distance from the +city. Heraklas was to enter into Alexandria at the earliest dawn and +was, if possible, to send a message to his mother. He was to obtain +an amount of food, such as he could carry without exciting +suspicion, and was to met his brother and Philo at the appointed +place on the sea-shore. Then they were to flee. + +Heraklas went with the others a little way. It seemed as if he could +not part from Timokles. Who knew if they should ever meet again? + +In the house where Heraklas' mother dwelt, a receiving-room for +visitors looked upon the court, but a row of columns led inward to a +private sitting-room, which, after the manner of the Egyptians, +stood isolated in one of the passages. In this isolated room, the +mother sat on a stool of ebony, inlaid with ivory. Beside her lay a +papyrus on which was written part of the Sacred Book of the +Christians. The face of the proud woman was hidden in her hands. + +Before her stood a messenger who had brought her the following +writing from Heraklas: + +"O my mother, forgive thy son! I have found Timokles! He is weak; +nigh, I fear, to death. O my mother, I also am a Christian: Read, I +pray thee, the papyrus I send. It is part of the Christians' Book. +We flee, with other Christians, from Alexandria, today. Farewell." + +The mother lifted her face, and her cry rang through the room, "O my +sons, my sons!" + +She had execrated Timokles at times when she had spoken of him +before Heraklas, and he had thought that the execration came from +her heart. But she had longed, with pain unspeakable, to see +Timokles once more. And now, when she knew that he had been in +Alexandria, that he needed a mother's care, that Heraklas, also, had +owned allegiance to the Christians' God--when she thought of +Christians burned, beheaded, given to wild beasts--when she realized +that perhaps she should never see again the face of Timokles or +Heraklas, the heart of the mother broke within her, and she wailed, +"O my sons! My sons!" + +"Hush!" warned the messenger, quickly. "Thy slaves will hear thee!" + +The mother seized the messenger's arm. + +"Tell me where my sons are," she begged. "I will go to them!" + +The messenger looked piercingly at her. He, a Christian, had risked +much to bring her this message. Dare he trust this woman, known to +be a devout worshiper of Egypt's gods? Would she not betray the +fleeing Christians? + +"What is it, my mother?" he asked gently.--See page 37. + +"Tell me where my sons are!" besought the mother with tears. "Oh, +tell me! I cannot lose them! What is my home to me without them? I +will not betray any Christian! Only tell me; and let me see my sons +again!" + +Then the messenger saw in the mother's eyes that she spoke +truthfully, but he said, "How can I trust thee?" + +"I swear by Isis!" implored the mother. + +"Nay," returned, the messenger gravely, "it is not meet that a +Christian should bind any one by a heathen oath." + +The mother cried out, and besought him, declaring that she would +depart from Alexandria, if her sons could not dwell there. + +"They cannot, except they risk death," stated the messenger "Thou +knowest Timokles' life is forfeit. Knowest thou not how many +Christians have fled, and what torments Christians who have been +brought here from all Egypt have suffered? Wouldst thou thy two sons +should suffer in like manner?" + +"I will go into exile with them," answered the woman. + +"How wilt thou leave this, thy beautiful home?" asked the messenger. + +"I will leave it in the care of my kinsmen," she replied. + +"It may never be thine again," warned the messenger. + +"Hear me, O Christian!", cried the mother passionately "I know not +the Christians' God, but the Emperor Severus shall not take away my +sons! I care not if he takes my home!" + +"Come then with us," answered the messenger. "I trust thee! May the +Christian's God cause thee to know Him!" + +That day there passed through Alexandria's streets a chariot drawn +by two mules. Seated in the chariot a lady and a child rode in +state. The charioteer was only a small lad. + +Out of the city by the eastern gate, as they had passed so many +times before, Cocce and her mother rode. Who would hinder so devout +worshipers of the gods from taking a pleasure drive? Alexandria knew +nothing yet of Heraklas' defection. + +When Alexandria was some distance behind, the lady spoke. + +"Stop the chariot," she commanded. + +The young lad obeyed. The woman and child descended to the road. + +"I would walk," said the woman. "Drive thou home again, and say thou +naught. See, here is something for thee." + +She gave him some money. + +The lad did as he was bidden. The mother of Heraklas had known whom +to choose for her charioteer this day. + +The chariot receded. It passed out of sight. A distance away from +the road, a man rose and beckoned. It was the messenger of the +morning, disguised, as a beggar. + +They went northerly toward the sea. The mother's straining eyes +looked ever forward. How if the Christians had been discovered! How +long the way was! + +A faintness seized upon her as they neared the sea. What if her sons +were not there? She hurried forward. + +The sea splashed on the rocks at her feet. The salt splay blew in +her face. They were not here! They were not here! + +Out of the recesses of the rocks, some forms arose, and Heraklas, as +in a dream, saw his mother, his proud mother--she who had burned +incense to the sun, she who had once held the sacred sistrum in +Amun's temple, she who had taught him to worship Isis, and Osiris, +and Horus, and the River Nile--his mother throw her arms about +Timokles, and kiss his scarred cheek, and sob on the young +Christian's neck, "O my son, I have missed thee so! I have missed +thee so!" + +Some ten months later, on the desolate, uninhabited western shore of +what the Hebrews called "Yam Suph, the Sea of Weeds," known now as +the Red Sea, in the country spoken of by the Romans as part of +Ethiopia, now named Nubia, a little company of Christians made ready +their evening meal. + +Down on the shore a little girl sang. Her voice rose exultantly in a +hymn of the early Christians: + +"Blessed art thou, O Lord; teach me thy judgments. + +"O Lord, thou hast been a refuge for us from generation to +generation. + +"Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us. + +"Thou hast healed my soul in that I have sinned against thee." + +"O Lord, to thee I flee for refuge. Teach me to do thy will +Because thou art my God; Because thou art the fountain of life In +thy light shall we see light. Extend thy mercy to them that know +thee." + +Timokles went toward the shore to call Cocce. As he returned, he saw +his mother standing a little apart from the other Christians and +gazing toward the northwest, in the direction of Egypt, as she had +often gazed since the Christians took refuge here. + +"She misseth her home," thought the young man sadly. "It is but a +rough abiding-place here for her. And yet Severus hath not found us. +I would that she had come here for the love of Christ, and not for +love of her two sons, only! Then she would feel, as the others of us +do, that there is no one who hath left house or lands for our Lord's +sake, but receiveth a hundred-fold in this life, and in the world to +come life everlasting. Oh, I would that my mother might know how +near our Lord can be, even in this desert!" + +His mother had ceased to speak of Egypt's gods. She had even read +somewhat in the Christians' Book. But to Timokles she seemed no +nearer to accepting Christ than when she was in Alexandria. How +little we know of the heart-experiences of those persons nearest to +us! + +Timokles drew nearer. His mother heard his step, and turned toward +him, but in place of the homesick longing he had expected to see in +her eyes, there was a look that thrilled his soul. + +"What is it, my mother?" he asked, gently. + +"Timokles," she answered softly, "I was thinking but now of +Alexandria and of our dear home there. Timokles, if God had not +driven me into the desert, would I ever have found him?" + +Timokles trembled with exceeding joy. Could she be speaking of the +real God, not of Egypt's idols? + +"Hast thou found Him--the Christian's God--my mother?" he asked +tremulously. + +A holy awe looked from his mother's face. + +"Did not his Son say, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast +out'?" she answered. "I have come to him, Timokles--even I, the +former worshiper of Isis--and he hath not cast me out." + +"O my mother!" murmured Timokles, overcome by the glad tidings. +"What more can I ask of him than this!" + +The sun sank, and Heraklas raised for the little company the evening +hymn of the early church. His mother's voice rose clear and sweet, +as all sang: + +"Children, praise the Lord, Praise ye the name of the Lord. We +praise thee, we hymn thee, we bless thee, Because of the greatness +of thy glory. O Lord the King, the Father of Christ, Of the spotless +Lamb who taketh away The sin of the world, To thee belongeth praise, +To thee belongeth song, To thee belongeth glory, to the God And +Father, through the Son, in the Spirit, To the Most Holy, unto ages +of ages. Amen." + +However long their exile might be, whatever privations they might +suffer in this desert place, the little company could sing their +praises with gratitude, for now not one voice of their number would +be silent. Here they would abide, telling of Christ to every heathen +wanderer whom they could seek out in these wilds. And if it should +please God that henceforth Egypt might never hold a home for them, +yet they could dwell in the deserts beyond Rome's dominion, knowing +that He who when on earth had no place to lay his head would be with +them. He had delivered the last one of the little company from the +snare of false gods. + + + + +THE SQUASH OF THE ESVIDOS. + + +Black dog slipped through a swinging gate and Miss Elizabeth +followed him into an olive, orchard of small dimensions. The family +to whom the black dog belonged was there. The father, Bernardo +Esvido, stood on a step-ladder, picking black olives into a bucket +half filled with water, the bucket being fastened to Mr. Esvido's +waist so that he might use both hands, while the water in the bucket +prevented the ripe olives from being bruised. He who picks ripe +olives into a hard bucket knows not his business. + +Beneath another olive tree sat the mother, the daughter, and the +son, washing olives in a water-trough. The small black dog raised +his voice, and did his best to inform the Esvidos that a stranger +eyed their olive-washing. + +"You read Portuguese?" asked Miss Elizabeth, smiling on the busy +group. Miss Elizabeth was not a book-agent, but, moved by the +religious destitution of the Portuguese, she had devised the plan of +buying at some city book-store Bibles or Testaments in Portuguese, +and then going into the surrounding country and hunting for +Portuguese who could read. To such, on account of their poverty, +Miss Elizabeth often sold for ten cents a Bible she had bought for +forty or sixty cents. She would gladly have given the Bibles free, +but from observation she had become persuaded that those Portuguese +who paid a few cents for a Bile were much more likely to read it +than were those to whom one was given for nothing. + +At Miss Elizabeth's question the united Esvido family looked at the +mother. She was the one reader of the group. Many Portuguese do not +read, either in English or in their own language. If a Portuguese +woman reads Portuguese, her neighbors perhaps know of her +accomplishment. Mr. Esvido was proud that his wife knew how to read +Portuguese even if he was ignorant. None of the family could read +English. + +"You like buy Biblia Sagrada?" (Holy Bible) questioned Miss +Elizabeth. "It is all Portuguese." + +The red book was passed to the mother, who shook olive-leaves and +dust from her hands, and took up the Bible. She had dimly known that +there was such a book. She remembered hearing of the Biblia Sagrada +years ago, when she was a girl in Lisbon, long before she came to +California; but none of her acquaintances had such a book, and she +had never before to-day seen a Portuguese Bible. + +But at last the book was handed back to Miss Elizabeth. + +"No money," carelessly explained Mr. Esvido. + +The oil-maker who bought the crops of the local olive-growers had +not yet paid for the olives. Even ten cents was not in Mr. Esvido's +pocket, just now. + +Miss Elizabeth looked around. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Esvido seemed +very anxious about the Bible, but Miss Elizabeth felt anxious for +them. A woman who could read Portuguese ought to have a Bible, and +she ought to pay something for it in order to interest her in it +thoroughly. Miss Elizabeth's eyes spied a yellow squash. She did not +want it, but it would be payment. + +"You give me squash, I give you Biblia Sagrada," she proposed. + +"How you take it?" asked Mr. Esvido, smiling. + +Miss Elizabeth opened her hands with a gesture that showed she meant +to carry the squash, hidden as much as possible under her short +cape. + +"We make trade," agreed Mr. Esvido; and Miss Elizabeth, leaving the +Bible, bore the big squash away. + +But Miss Elizabeth's yellow burden became very heavy before she had +gone far on the long country road. She found at last a wandering +piece of newspaper, which she wrapped over as much of the vegetable +as possible. The rest her cape covered, and then she marched on +toward the far wires of the electric car-line that had brought her +into the country. So vanished the squash of the Esvidos from their +eyes. + +Meantime the Portuguese mother read aloud from the Bible. The +daughter, Delpha, listened, while gently rubbing the black olives in +the water-trough. She knew of Christ, yet the words of the Biblia +Sagrada were unknown. + +After this, Mrs. Esvido read the book much in the evenings. Delpha +and Mr. Esvido listened, the father listening more because just now +he had not his pipe for company. The American who bought the olives +declared that no one who picked olives for him must smoke during +olive harvest! All his workmen, even when off duty, must refrain +from smoking, for the tobacco odor clung to clothing. The olives +would absorb tobacco smoke. The oil would be spoiled. Mr. Esvido +grumbled much, but obeyed. There was a warning in the fate of the +neighbor, Antone Ramos, who in last year's olive season had thought +one evening to smoke a pipeful of tobacco secretly, and lo! the +American, ever watchful, came to Antone Ramos' house that very +night, and the tobacco smoke was perceptible! Antone Ramos was +discharged! + +Therefore, during this year's olive harvest, Mr. Esvido, with a +cautious respect for the American's preternaturally, acute +perception concerning tobacco, refrained from smoking, and found +solace in listening with Delpha to Mrs. Esvido's evening readings +from the Biblia Sagrada. It seemed marvelous to Mr. Esvido that his +wife could read. The marvel of it had never lessened for him, and +one night he said proudly, "We make good bargain when we give squash +for Biblia Sagrada! Biblia Sagrada ver' good book." + +One day Mrs. Esvido read something that startled Delpha. Site could +hardly believe it possible that her mother hid read aright. + +The words in the Portuguese language were these: "Amai a vossos +inimigos, fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." (Love your enemies; do +good to them that hate you.) + +Alas! Delpha knew whom that meant. + +There had long been a deep-seated quarrel between her and Sara +Frates. Thinking of this bitter animosity, Delpha felt keenly the +command, "Fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." + +Olive harvest went on. The Esvido olives were gathered. Then Delpha +and Sara and others went to work in the American's costly olive-oil +mill, scalding the mill-stones and the crushing troughs daily, +sweeping the scraps of olive skins from the floors, and scalding the +floors to keep every odor away from the precious olive oil. Before +beginning this season, the walls of the building had been given a +coat of whitewash, and now a wood fire must not be lit anywhere near +the premises, for the precious olive oil might take a smoky taste. + +It was therefore with great wrath that Delpha, who was careful to +obey rules, found one day, in a crushing trough under her +supervision, some scattered little pieces of iron. Now iron must +never be allowed to come in contact with olive juice. The tannic +acid in the olive juice acts very rapidly on the iron, producing a +kind of ink, that turns the oil black and almost ruins it. The +American's crushing troughs and weights were of granite. Delpha was +sure Sara had scattered the pieces of iron in the crushing trough on +purpose to bring Delpha into trouble. + +"I do something to her!" resolved Delpha fiercely. "I pay her for +this!" + +Then she remembered, "Fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." (Do good to +them that hate you.) To Sara's amazement, Delpha did not retaliate. +Sara could not understand why. + +Toward the end of the olive season, the American went away for a +day. During the noon rest, Delpha, sitting in a side door, thought +she caught the odor of smoke. No wood fire was allowed around the +oil-mill! Delpha went out to investigate. + +She saw a film of smoke rising from a gulch. Delpha discovered that +some of the young mill-workers' friends had caught some fish in the +bay sparkling in the distance, and had brought them this way going +home. The American being absent, the young mill-workers and their +friends had made a fire in the gulch, and were merrily broiling +fish. Sara was there, disobeying rules with the others. + +Delpha ran back to the oil-mill. She hoped the fire's smoke would +not injure the oil. She was troubled as she dropped in the door. But +she could do nothing. + +By and by she heard screams. She sprang up. Sara came running around +the mill. Her dress was on fire! + +"Delpha! Delpha!" she screamed, "Delpha, help me!" She seemed crazed +with fright. + +"Fazei--bem--aos--que--vos--tem--odio!" + +Did a voice say it to Delpha? She snatched a great canvas bag used +for olive-picking, and a shawl. She ran to Sara. She breathlessly +tore at the blazing garments, rolling Sara in the shawl and canvas +bag. Blackened, sobbing, Sara lay at length safe on the ground. +Delpha ran for water and olive oil. + +As Delpha gently spread some olive oil on the burns, Sara flung her +arms about Delpha's neck. + +"Amiga!" (friend) she sobbed, and the enmity between the girls was +over. + +Miles away, Miss Elizabeth one day said to herself, "I don't believe +we can ever use that squash I brought home from those Portuguese! +But anyhow the squash made that Portuguese woman feel that she paid +for the Bible! I hope she reads it, poor soul!" + +But Miss Elizabeth did not know the whole story of the squash of the +Esvidos, or of the message that the Biblia had brought to Delpha's +heart. + + + + +THE VERSE MARTIN READ. + + +Martin put his bare feet down through the thick dust of the country +road. It was warm summer, and he was used to going barefoot, even to +Sunday-school, from which he was now returning. Over the hot, dry +grass of the fields there swayed at frequent intervals the heads of +California wild oats. One such stem grew near the road, and Martin, +with a quick sweep of his hand, pulled off the wild oat heads and +went on through the dusty road, scattering the oats as he walked. +Martin was thinking. + +"Teacher doesn't know how 'tis," he said. "I have to carry 'round +milk mornings and nights, and I have to go down to the barn to hunt +eggs, and I have to help pa about the stage horses, and sometimes I +have to ride the horses back to be shod, and I have to walk a mile +to day-school and back, and learn my lessons, and I'd like to know +how teacher thinks I've got much time to read the Bible some every +day. There's lots of days I don't believe pa reads any in the Bible. +He's too busy driving the stage and 'tending to the horses. And ma +doesn't read it, because she has to cook for the teamster boarders. +It's a real pretty book teacher's given me, though." + +Martin felt inside his jacket, and brought out a little New +Testament. It was only a ten-cent Testament, for Miss Bruce, his +Sunday-school teacher, did not have money enough to buy Bibles for +her class of thirteen boys. She had felt that she must do something, +however, for the boys were destitute of Bibles of their own. + +The best she could do was to buy small Testaments with red covers, +and she had cut a piece of bright red, inch-wide ribbon into +thirteen lengths, had raveled out the ends so as to make fringe, and +had put a piece of this fringed ribbon into each boy's New Testament +for a book-mark. The boys thought a great deal of the pieces of +ribbon, they were so bright and pretty. Miss Bruce had written some +special little message to each boy in the front of his Testament. +The general purport of each message was that the book was given with +the teacher's prayer that the boy might learn to love the Bible and +might become a real Christian. Some of the boys let the others read +what was written in the Testaments, and some boys did not. + +Miss Bruce had given them the Testaments to-day, and had said that +she hoped each boy would read a little, daily, in his Testament, +even if it were only two or three verses. + +"I wonder if teacher'll ask me next Sunday whether I've read any?" +Martin questioned himself now, as he admiringly eyed his piece of +red ribbon. "It'll be a shame if I have to tell her, the first +Sunday, that I've forgot it! I'd better read one verse now, so I can +say I read that, anyway, if I forget the rest of the week." + +Martin sat down beside the road. He was not a very good reader. This +was the first piece of the Bible Martin had ever owned. There was an +old, unused family Bible at home. A red Testament, was much more +attractive to Martin. + +"Where'll I read?" Martin asked himself now. "I want an easy verse. +Some of them look too hard." + +He began and dropped several verses, because of their difficulty. +Finally he settled on one, because of its shortness. He read its +seven words haltingly but carefully. + +"'L-e-s-t'--I don't know that +word--'c-o-m-i-n-g'--coming--'s-u-d-d-e-n-l-y--he find you +s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g.' 'Lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping.'" + +Of the connection of the verse, and its spiritual significance, +Martin knew nothing. The word "l-e-s-t" puzzled him. He would ask +somebody about it. + +When he helped his father with the horses at the barn that evening, +Martin questioned his father about the word "l-e-s-t." + +"Haven't you spelled it wrong?" asked his father. "I guess it's +'l-e-a-s-t'--'least'--smallest." + +"It's in my new red book," answered Martin, perching on the watering +trough. "I'll find the place." + +Martin did not know much about New Testament books or chapters, but +he knew that verse was on the eighty-second page. Martin had noted +the little numbers at the bottom of the pages. + +"Here 'tis!" triumphantly exclaimed Martin. + +His father took the book. Martin's eager finger pointed to the +verse. + +"Lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping." + +The words faced the stage-driver. Well did he know their meaning. +Years ago in his mother's home he had been taught from the Bible. +His eyes now ran over the preceding verses. He caught parts of them. +"The Son of man is as a man taking a far journey." "Watch ye +therefore." "Ye know not when the master of the house cometh." "Lest +coming suddenly, he find you sleeping." + +"Don't you know what 'l-e-s-t' means?" asked Martin, eager for the +explanation. + +"Oh--why, yes," responded his father. "It means 'For fear' he should +come suddenly." + +"Who?" asked Martin. + +"The Lord," returned his father gravely. + +"Why shouldn't they be sleeping?" asked Martin. + +"Who?" said his father, turning to attend to the horses. + +"I don't know," said Martin. "I mean my verse." + +"Martin," stated the stage-driver, "I'm no hand at explaining. Don't +ask any more questions." + +Every Sunday after this Miss Bruce persisted in asking whether the +boys read in their Testaments. + +"It's mean the way some of the boys don't read any, after her giving +us all nice red Testaments," Martin told his father. "I don't read +much, but I ought to read some, after her fringing that red ribbon! +Most verses I read are short, like 'Lest coming suddenly, he find +you sleeping.'" + +The stage-driver moved uneasily at the words. + +"He hasn't forgot that verse after all these weeks?" thought the +man. + +"I know what that verse means now," went on Martin. "Miss Bruce told +me. She says some folks forget they've got to die, and they ought to +be ready for that. A good many folks don't become Christians, and +Miss Bruce says she's afraid they'll be like that verse, 'Lest +coming suddenly, he find you sleeping.' You and I won't be that way, +will we, father? I'm going to try to be ready. Ain't you? Miss Bruce +says folks ought to always be." + +His father's eyes were on the harness he was buckling. + +"I hope you'll be ready, Martin," answered the father, "even if I +ain't." + +The place where Martin lived was a small settlement distant from +town. Martin's father, Mr. Colver, not only three days in the week +drove the stage, but other days acted as a sort of expressman, +bringing freight in a large wagon over the miles from town. One +night about nine o'clock, Mr. Colver was on the long, lonely road +coming toward home. He had a very heavy load on his wagon. The +wheels scraped on the wagon bottom, and the team went with a heavy, +dragging sound. + +As the heavy wagon came opposite a clump of white blossoming buckeye +trees, one of the fore wheels of the dragging wagon suddenly gave +way and fell off. Mr. Colver was thrown violently from the wagon's +high seat into the road, among the tumbling heavy boxes and barrels. +The sharp corner of one box struck Mr. Colver's head near the +temple. + +The weary horses waited to be urged forward again. They did not know +that their driver lay insensible in the road. + +It was early gray morning before one of the teamsters who boarded at +the Colvers' found Mr. Colver lying still insensible, and brought +him home. The blow on the head had been a very dangerous one. Martin +gazed awestruck at his father's shut eyes and unconscious face. + +"I wonder if pa's going to die?" the boy anxiously thought. "I +wonder if pa's ready?" + +The sorrowful hours came and went. Mr. Colver regained +consciousness, but for weeks he felt the effects of the blow that +might have smitten him never to rise. + +One night when Martin was going to his room, his father called +weakly to the boy. + +Martin turned back. He found his mother sitting beside his father. + +"Martin," said his father with grave earnestness, "your mother's +been reading to me from your Testament. We've been talking about +Bible things that we haven't paid much attention to. We were both +brought up better, Martin. The Lord's had mercy upon me. He might +have taken me suddenly that night, but he knew I wasn't ready, and +he had mercy on me. And now, lad, your mother and I thought we would +just kneel right down here to-night, and ask the Lord to take each +of us, and make us his own. You want to, don't you, my son?" + +Martin nodded, and for the first time the stage-driver's family +knelt together. They whose souls had been sleeping were awake. + + + + +BY THE WAY. + + +Cliffs by the blue bay held many fossil shells. Children sometimes +strayed here and there with hammers, pounding out fossils from +fallen pieces of the cliffs. On the extent of sands that bordered +the cliffs and stretched up the coast between them and the breakers, +old stumps that had been months before brought in by the waves lay +half buried from sight. A short distance farther up the coast, the +sands went a greater way inland, forming a nook where driftwood and +stumps had accumulated. On the sand in this nook stood a horse and +an old wagon. Beyond a large log, a little fire of driftwood had +been started, and a woman was endeavoring to fry some fish in a +spider. Two children had partly unharnessed the horse, and were +giving him some dry grass. + +From afar, a woman and a girl who had been taking a walk on a road +high up on the cliffs, looked curiously down at the persons in the +sandy nook. + +"I wonder who they are, and what they are traveling that way for?" +said the girl to her mother. + +"It's the same wagon that was on, the sands last night, I suppose," +returned her mother. "The milk boy said he saw a wagon drive on the +beach about dark. I wonder if they stayed up here all night? Suppose +we walk down, Addie, and talk with that woman." + +"I'm afraid she won't want to see us," objected the daughter. "If +they had wanted to see anybody, they'd have stopped at the +settlement." + +Notwithstanding this objection, the mother began to descend the path +toward the sands at the bottom of the cliffs. Both Mrs. Weeks and +her daughter Addie were somewhat breathless by the time they had +pushed their way through the heavy white sand to the spot where the +stranger, was cooking. The spider contained only a few very small +fish. + +"Good-morning," said Mrs. Weeks, pleasantly. + +The brown-faced woman who held the spider lifted her eyes and +nodded. + +"Have you been fishing?" asked Mrs. Weeks. + +"We didn't have much luck," murmured the other woman. "Maybe we +didn't fish in the best place. Tillie was wanting fish." + +The younger of the two children colored and hung her head at this +reference to her. The other smiled shyly. + +"We have some fresh rock cod up at our house. My brother catches +fresh fish for us every day," said Addie to the older little girl. +"Don't you want to walk back with me, and, get some of the fish for +your mother?" + +The child nodded. "We're not beggars, Miss. You must not rob +yourself of your own fish," remonstrated, the child's mother; but +Addie assured the woman that fish were so plentiful in the +settlement that neighbors often gave part of the results of a catch +to some one else. + +The girl went away over the cliffs with the child. Mrs. Weeks sat +down on a log. When Addie and the little girl came back with the +fish and some milk, Mrs. Weeks rose and went home with her daughter. + +"The woman's husband is dead, and she's driving north with her +children," Mrs. Weeks told Addie. "She has an idea she can get work +in some cannery up the coast. I told her there were some unoccupied +tents in our settlement, and I wished she and the children would +come and sleep in the tents, while she's here. But she won't come. I +was sorry they slept on the beach last night, but she says they are +used to sleeping in the wagon, and it is warm weather, you know." + +The wagon did not drive on that day, though the woman and the +children kept away from the little summer settlement. + +It was the custom of the people of this small settlement to go down +on the beach, after dark at evening, and have a camp-fire. Some old +stump would be lit, and the people would sit on logs or on the +sand about the fire, and talk and sing. The last thing, every night, +hymns were sung. + +To-night, Addie and her, mother went down to the beach as usual. +After sitting by the fire awhile, Addie rose and wandered up the +beach, as persons sometimes did, to watch the waves. At a distance +from the camp-fire, where the darkness, covered the beach, Addie +turned to go back. She was startled by a movement in the darkness. + +"Don't be afraid," said the voice of the woman who, with her +children, had spent that day in the nook farther up the beach. "The +little girls were asleep, and I came here to listen to the folks +sing. That's the reason I haven't driven on to-day, because I hoped +the folks would sing again to-night, the way they did last night. I +haven't heard hymn-singing for years, before. I've lived in mining +and such places. I want to ask you a question." + +The woman paused. + +"Do you suppose my baby's at the River?" she went on. + +Addie hardly comprehended the woman's meaning. + +"What river?" asked the girl. + +"The River they sang about last night," explained the woman. + +She motioned toward the group at the distant camp-fire, and Addie +remembered that on the previous evening the people had sung: + +"Shall we gather at the river?" + +"I haven't heard that sung before for years and years," the woman +continued. "We used to sing it when I was a little girl at home in +the East, but I've mostly forgot such things. Mining camps and a +drunk husband make you forget. There never was a church anywhere we +lived, and Sam got drunk Sundays. And then he died. I don't suppose +Sam got to the River. I don't know. I wish he did. But if my baby's +got there, I want to go to the River." + +The woman began to sob. + +"I never told you about my baby." she faltered. "He was a dreadful +nice little--" + +"Good-morning!" said Mrs. Weeks pleasantly. + +"--baby. I've got some of his things in a little box in the wagon. He +died after his father did. I wouldn't feel acquainted with the +saints that the folks sang gather at the River; but I'd feel +acquainted with my baby. He's there, isn't he?" + +"Yes," said Addie softly, "your baby's by the River, and you can go +there, too." + +The woman tried to control her sobs and listen, while Addie told in +as simple language as she could the way to peace. + +"It's just coming to Christ, just as we are, and asking him to make +us his," finished the girl. "He's promised to forgive, if we're in +earnest about asking." + +Addie waited a moment. + +"Maybe you'd be willing to come to the camp-fire with me," suggested +Addie. "Those people are only, some of our neighbors. They like +these open-air meetings. Perhaps they'd make the way clearer to +you." + +"No," said the woman hastily. "No, I'm not fit for such folks, but +would you mind doing one thing for me? Will you go back and just sit +down, careless like, on one of the logs there by the fire, as if +you'd got back from going down to see the breakers roll in, the way +some of the folks do? And don't let anybody know you've seen me at +all! Don't say one word about me, but when they get through singing +some hymn, won't you just start them singing, 'Shall we gather at +the River'? I want to hear it once again, but don't let them know +they're singing it for me! Will you manage it the way I want?" + +"Yes," promised Addie. + +The girl went back and sat down on a log beside the fire, with the +other people. The fire was beginning to burn low, and the girl was +fearful lest at the end of the hymn that was being sung, some one +should make a move to go back to the encampment. As soon as she +could Addie began: + +"Shall we gather at the river?" + +The other voices took up the hymn. No one noticed that Addie's voice +soon faltered and was still. + +"Shall we gather at the river, Where bright angel-feet have trod: +With its crystal tide forever Flowing by the throne of God?" + +The words rang, out clear and sweet, and then the joyful assurance +broke forth: + +"Yes, we'll gather at the river, The beautiful, the beautiful river. +Gather with the saints at the river That flows by the throne of +God." + +The words of stanza after stanza floated out into the darkness of +the cliffs and upper sands with a distinctness that the loud waves +did not overcome. There was no form or, motion visible in all the +night that hid the shoreward side of the beach. + +The next morning Addle went from the settlement, to carry the woman +and her children some milk. When the girl reached the nook, she +found it empty. She ran upon the bluffs, and looked northward, but +there was neither horse nor wagon visible. The mother, and children +had evidently resumed their journey very early, and the turns of the +country roads had hidden the travelers. They had vanished forever. + +"God guide them to the River!" whispered Addie. + + + + +AT COUSIN HARRIET'S + + +The "filaree," or pinclover; had borne its seeds with curious long +ends--those seeds that California children call "clocks"--and among +THE filaree there stood, on slender, bare stems, small flowers of +the lily family which are known as "bluebells." A boy was walking +through the filaria. He was carrying a hatchet and an ax, and he +looked tired, though it was early in the day. + +"I guess Cousin Harriet doesn't know how hard working on the alkali +patch is," he murmured softly. "She isn't like mother:" + +The boy's head dropped, and a sob escaped him. + +"I wish mother hadn't died;" he said chokingly. "Most every boy has +a mother." + +He tried to stop crying, but it was hard, for he was overworked, and +he was only twelve years old. + +Six months before this, his mother had died. Several weeks alter her +death, Claude's father had been called East on business; and had +left the boy and his younger sisters Rose and Daisy on a ranch owned +by Cousin Harriet, several miles from the children's former home. It +had been very hard for the children to part from their father so +soon after their mother's death, but he told them that while the +business that called him East would take a number of months, yet +there was some prospect that their mother's own sister, Aunt Jennie, +with her husband and little boy, would come with Claude's father on +his return. Then they could all live together at the dear home +place. So the stay at Cousin Harriet's would not probably be +perpetual. + +Cousin Harriet was a widow. She looked after her ranch with great +diligence. She had several hired men and women, and the ranch was a +very busy place. Cousin Harriet was not much used to children, +having none of her own, but she tried to do her duty by the three +left in her charge. Rose and Daisy did not find the household tasks +that were assigned them very difficult. Cousin Harriet secretly did +not like boys, however. She tried to treat Claude justly, but the +boy sadly missed the mother-love to which he had been accustomed all +his life. He was expected to help the hired men on the ranch, and +they made him work rather hard, especially since they had been +fixing the "alkali patch." + +The alkali patch was in the southwest corner of Cousin Harriet's +ranch. On several acres, nothing would grow, on account of the +alkali in the soil. The alkali stood on the ground in white patches +here and there, and Claude hated the sight of it. Cousin Harriet, +however, was very enthusiastic about trying to reclaim this "alkali +sink," so that it might bear crops. + +Alkali extended over the fields of adjoining neighbors, and Cousin +Harriet thought that if only her hired men could conquer her alkali +patch, then the discouraged neighbors might think it possible to do +something with such parts of their land, also. So, one of the first +things that was done with Cousin Harriet's "alkali sink" was to make +some redwood drains, shaped like the letter V, and place these about +three feet below the surface. A "sump," or drainage pit, was dug, +too, into which the drains might discharge the alkali water. The +hired men expected Claude to help dig the "sump," and it proved +quite hard work. So did the pounding of the "hard pan" on the alkali +tract, itself. The tough, hard clods of earth were so difficult to +pulverize that they had to be pounded with crowbars and axes. + +"I used to think that helping pick lemons, at home, was work," +Claude thought to-day, as he went toward the part of the ranch where +he was expected to work, "but I didn't know about alkali patches, +then. And--I had mother." + +The tears would come into his eyes. + +The hired men were scattered over the extensive alkali tract, and +were pounding the clods. Claude chose to work near a man called +Neil. The boy liked Neil better than the other men, because he did +not speak crossly. + +Claude sorrowfully pounded the alkali clods. How tiresome the work +was, and how uncomfortably warm the sun! The boy worked dejectedly. +After a while, pausing to take breath, he looked up and found Neil +also pausing. + +"We are tired," said Neil, with a friendly smile. + +"Don't you hate this work?" exclaimed Claude vehemently. "I wouldn't +touch it, if Cousin Harriet didn't make me." + +The hired man looked kindly at the small, tired boy. + +"It is not most pleasant," he returned, "but what I think of makes +me glad while I work." + +"What do you think of?" asked Claude, giving an alkali clod a push. + +"I was thinking," answered Neil gently, "how once I had a hard +heart--very hard. It was like these clods, where nothing good can +grow. People who looked at me could see that my heart was hard. Men +would have said, 'Neil's heart can never be different' But Jesus +took away my hard heart and gave me a new one. That is what makes me +glad all the time, though I work on these hard alkali clods. Some +day this patch we work on will be different. There will be +beautiful, green, growing crops on it. But that is not so great a +change as it is to change a hard heart and get a new heart from our +Savior." + +Claude did not say anything. He bent over the hard clods and worked +silently, but he was not thinking of his work. He was remembering +his mother's voice as it had sounded nights when she had knelt +beside his bed and prayed that her boy might become a Christian. +There had been one night that Claude would always remember, when his +mother had come for the last time to his bedside, and prayed feebly +for her boy. The next week she had died. + +Claude looked up at Neil, now. The man evidently found the work +hard, but his face showed that he had spoken truly when he said that +he was glad, even though he did work on the hard, alkali clods. + +"I wish I were like Neil," thought Claude. + +The wish grew. It changed into an earnest prayer, not that he might +be like Neil, but a prayer for the same blessing that Neil had--a +new heart. No earnest prayer for that gift is ever met by a refusal. +Neil watched Claude anxiously, as they worked day by day. + +"We can't change ourselves, any more than this alkali plot can +change itself," said Neil, "but we can yield ourselves and our life +to the blessed Jesus and love him, for he is love." + +One day, Claude said softly, "I've done it, Neil. I've given myself +to Jesus." + +The face of the hired man glowed with added happiness through the +toiling days that followed. When the alkali clods were broken and +plowed, gypsum was scattered on the land and harrowed in. Then water +was turned on and allowed to stand several inches deep over the +alkali plot. The water stood for several weeks. Gradually it soaked +through the soil and passed out into the drainage pit. After several +soakings, alternating with breaking of clods and treatment with +gypsum, the former alkali patch was given some seed. How the men +watched the land day after day, and how the first green sprouts of +corn were hailed! The alkali patch was changed. Cousin Harriet was +rejoiced. + +"There's so much land saved," she said. "It's a great change." + +Neil listened to the words as in a parable. He was thinking of a +greater change. He was rejoicing over the boy of the household. + +Months had gone by. One day there was a joyful outcry at the +farm-house. The little girls rushed out to meet their father. With him +was their mother's sister, Aunt Jennie, with her husband and little +boy. + +Claude was on the ranch at work, and did not hear the joyful outcry +at first. + +He was not aware of the new-comers, till his father and the two +little girls rushed where Claude was working, and the boy's father +caught him in a close embrace. + +"Come and see Aunt Jennie," his father said to Claude. + +"She-she looks like, mamma," whispered Rose tremulously, and Claude +came somewhat bashfully into the house. + +There he saw a woman whose face did indeed look, like his mother's, +and he felt mother-arms put around him. He heard a voice like his +mother's say, "Is this my boy?" He felt a warm teardrop on his +cheek, and he knew that Aunt Jennie understood and cared for boys, +and that he would be indeed "her boy." + +That afternoon they all drove away from the ranch, leaving Cousin +Harriet smitten with a sudden sense of loneliness, for she had even. +grown attached to Claude as well as to his sisters. The boy looked +back at the ranch. It was rapidly being left behind, but he could +still see the green patch of corn that covered the place where the +alkali used to be. Rut the boy was, not thinking of the alkali patch +alone. A look of reverent thankfulness came into his face. "Mother +will be glad I ever met Neil," he thought. + +TWO small brown hands were held outstretched in the air. Cautiously +they moved forward, lower and lower. Then they darted and grasped +with speed what seemed to be some sand. Something in the sand +objected, but the boy held on and gathered sand and all into his +tin. He looked with much satisfaction at his presumably indignant +prisoner, a spiny gray "horned toad" that had been peaceably sunning +himself, nearly buried in sand, on the hill. + +The owner of the two nimble hands, Arturo, smiled. + +"Get four bit, maybe!" he anticipated. + +"Get four bit for tia Marta!" + +In California "four bits" means a half dollar. Occasionally somebody +on the overland train that stopped at the station in town would be +attracted toward a spiny "horned toad" as a curiosity, and would buy +one. Arturo meant to try to sell this specimen in that way. If he +got the money, he would give it to tia Marta. + +Tia Mama was Arturo's aunt. "Tia" means "aunt" in Spanish. +Presumably for the reason that nephews are sometimes troublesome to +their aunts, there is a Spanish proverb that warns a nephew against +making his aunt too frequent visits: + +En casa de tia, Mas no cads dia:' ("In the house of thy aunt, But +not every day.") Notwithstanding this adage, however, the boy Arturo +lived with his Aunt Marta. This was not always pleasant, for neither +Arturo nor tia Marta was perfect. Yet they really thought a good +deal of each other. The third member of the household was Tia +Marta's husband, do (uncle) Diego, but he was very old and lame, and +could not work. Tia Marta earned the living, and Arturo usually +thought of himself as dwelling with tia Marta rather than do Diego. +Arturo never quarreled with his uncle. + +When the overland train stopped at the station for water, and Arturo +rushed breathlessly to sell his horned toad, the eager boy found no +passenger who was desirous of being a customer save an old gentleman +who doubtfully offered twenty-five cents for the creature. 'Arturo +stuck bravely to his intended price of "four bits," but the train +creaked for starting, and, alarmed, the boy hastily handed over the +toad, took the quarter of a dollar, and rushed off the train. + +The old gentleman shouted from the platform for instructions as to +feeding his pet, 'axed Arturo shouted back advice in broken English +to let it catch "muchos, muchos" (many) flies, and have "mucho, +mucho" air. The toad was in a pasta-board box at present. Arturo was +anxious that it should be well treated, for the boy felt it would +not be fair to make the creature a prisoner, and then sell it to +somebody who would starve it. + +The old gentleman seemed satisfied with the shouted directions. But +when the train had puffed away, Arturo sat down and wrathfully +looked at his quarter of a dollar. + +"He had altos pesos!" Arturo muttered; "ought give four bit." + +According to Arturo's belief, every American had in his possession +"altos pesos," which is Spanish for "high" or "enormous" "dollars," +or, as Americans say, "a pile of money." Therefore Arturo felt sure +that the old gentleman ought to have given half a dollar for the +horned toad. + +Arturo was now not at all inclined to give tia Marta the twenty-five +cents. He wanted the money himself. Tia Marta was going to wash for +somebody to-day, and would get her pay. + +What should he buy? Twenty-five cents must not be spent lightly. It +was not so often that a horned toad was found or sold. + +Arturo did not muse long alone. Another boy had heard Arturo's +shouted advice to the old gentleman, and had told two or three +comrades. They came about Arturo to proffer advice. "Bollos," or +cakes, were joyfully suggested, but Arturo refused. + +An older Spanish boy, Manuel, joined the company. He was a lazy +fellow, whom a good many of the younger boys admired because he +could play a guitar and because he wore cheap jewelry that seemed +gorgeous to inexperienced eyes. + +Manuel approved of Arturo's rejection of the cake proposition. What +good was cake? It would be soon eaten and gone! + +Manuel, who was ever bent on securing any money that he could obtain +without work, proposed to Arturo that he should buy a certain +watch-chain owned by himself. Manuel, who knew that the showy thing was +worthless, tried to picture how a fine-looking boy like Arturo would +appear with so gorgeous an ornament. The younger boys listened +enviously, and Arturo's Spanish love of display began to glow. Yet +he was cautious enough to put off Manuel till the next day. Arturo +went away, leaving the younger boys gazing enviously after him. His +pride was flattered. + +As Arturo came into the little yard that was about his humble home, +he heard tia Marta singing. Arturo always dreaded to hear her sing, +because then he was sure that some calamity had occurred. Tia Marta +fully believed in the Spanish saying, "He who sings frightens away +his ills." + +It was as Arturo thought. Tia Marta had failed to get the day's +washing she had expected to have. This seemed very unfortunate, for +there was but little in the house to eat. Beans, one of the main +staples of food among the Mexicans, were almost gone from the +household supplies, and there was no money to buy more. Tia Marta +had cooked the last of the beans for supper. The uncle and aunt gave +fully half the beans to Arturo, and, being hungry, he ate them. Tia +Marta ate little, and urged the rest of the beans on tio Diego. + +After supper, the aunt repeated with devout cheerfulness those +Spanish sayings, "God sends the sore, and knows the medicine," and +"God sends the cold according to our rags." She believed that God +would help. + +Arturo thought of the twenty-five cents in his pocket. He looked at +old tio Diego. Arturo wondered if his uncle were really hungry. +Beans! Twenty-five cents would buy beans enough for a number of +days. But it would be such a downfall to buy only beans with that +twenty-five cents! Tia Marta would probably find some washing soon, +and would buy beans herself. Arturo had had enough supper to-night. + +Next day Arturo bought the watch-chain. The little boys at school +were overawed by his showy ornament, but the teacher thought +laughingly, "How these Spanish do like to dress up!" + +At night, when Arturo went home with his watch-chain hidden in his +pocket, tia Marta was singing again. There was only a little bread +and some dried figs for supper, and Arturo's healthy boyish appetite +already began to make him sorry for his bargain. + +The next day tia Marta sang, and there were only dried figs to eat +all day. The next day there were figs for breakfast and figs at +noon. Even dried figs were almost gone. + +At night, however, tia Marta said joyfully, "I got wash to-morrow!" + +Arturo felt relieved. + +The next morning there were only two or three figs apiece. When +Arturo came home at noon, he found frightened tio Diego crying +feebly and leaning over tia Marta, who had sunk in the door-way. +Scantily fed tia Marta's strength had given out in the midst of the +washing. She said she was only dizzy, but Arturo was frightened by +her looks. Suddenly it came to him that he loved her. + +Arturo ran out of the house. He ran to a little grocery, and begged +the grocer to take the watch-chain for some beans. The grocer only +laughed, telling the boy the chain was worthless. But Arturo was +desperate. He knew better than to go to Manuel. Manuel would have +spent the twenty-five cents long ago, and Arturo pleaded with the +grocer. The grocer's wife was in and out, looking after her romping +children. She held the worthless, gaudy chain before her black-eyed +baby, who clutched it and laughed. The mother laughed, too. Her +husband laughed. The baby kept the chain, and crowed. + +The grocer's wife filled a big paper bag with beans, and gave it, +with a loaf of bread, to Arturo. The boy clasped the packages, and +ran. + +At home he found tia Marta sitting still with shut eyes. + +"Eat!" cried Arturo, thrusting the loaf into her hands. + +Tio Diego laughed with joy and put the beans to cooking. Arturo +stayed home from school that afternoon, and helped wash. To-morrow +the pay would come. Tio Diego tried lamely to help Arturo wash. + +Tia Marta was feeling better, and had just declared her intention of +washing, when Arturo suddenly forsook the tub and dropped beside +her. + +"Me malo, malo!" (bad) he sobbed. + +He cried bitterly, and told tia Marta about the watch-chain. + +Old tia Marta looked pityingly at her shamefaced nephew. + +"Poor child!" she said, "thou art young." + +But when next day the school teacher asked Arturo the reason of his +absence from school the previous afternoon, and he had confessed the +whole story, the teacher said, "Arturo, it is more beautiful to have +a heart of love toward others than it is to wear a watch-chain even +of real gold. Will you remember that?" + +Arturo promised, and the teacher said to herself: + +"I will see that tia Marta does not come to such straits again." + + + + +COMALE'S REVENGE + + +The Waves splashed on the bold rocks that guard the little harbor +of Colombo on the southwest shore of the island of Ceylon. Groves of +palm trees looked down on the one-story houses of the town. Upon a +rock outside of Colombo stood a barefoot boy, his dark eyes gazing +toward the tropically green mountains of the island. His attention +was particularly riveted on one of the highest peaks, that one which +is known to English-speaking people as "Adam's Peak," and which is +reverenced by natives as being the traditional spot from which +Buddha ascended to heaven. + +"The butterflies are making their pilgrimage to the holy footprint," +murmured the boy, Comale, to himself. + +He could see from his standpoint great streams of butterflies, +taking their flight apparently from all parts of the island, and +going toward the famous Peak. These flights of butterflies, +occurring occasionally in Ceylon, have won for the butterflies +themselves the name of "Samanaliya," since it is thought that the +heathen god, Saman, left his footprint on the mountain, and the +butterflies, like devout beings, take pains to go on pilgrimage to +the holy footprint. + +Comale himself knew better than to believe in this old heathen tale, +yet he never saw the myriads of flying butterflies without +remembering what he had been taught in his earlier years, before +Christianity came under the high-pitched roof where Comale's father +and mother lived. + +Long time did Comale stand on the rock and gaze at the vast numbers +of flying, winged "pilgrims." The butterflies seemed countless, and +at last Comale, sighing a little, said, "They are very good," and, +jumping from his rock, made haste toward the cinnamon gardens where +he worked. + +Comale was a "peeler." In the perfectly white soil around the city +of Colombo, the cinnamon tree flourishes as well as, if not better +than, in any other place in the world. It requires much practice to +become a skillful peeler of cinnamon, but Comale, having been taught +by his father, and being moreover a careful, observing lad, was fast +attaining a degree of success in his trade. Formerly the Cingalese +had allowed the cinnamon trees to grow to their natural height, +about twenty or thirty feet, and naturally the cinnamon bark from +such trees had been tough. This was long ago, however, before even +the Dutch owned Colombo. Better wisdom came with them, and in these +later days of English rule, sensible ideas still prevailed. The +cinnamon trees were kept pruned, and the comparatively young shoots +were found to produce better cinnamon than old trees had done. + +Comale, arriving at the gardens, began to work. The branches he +chose for cutting were about three feet long and were the growth of +from three to five years. + +Comale made longitudinal cuts in the bark, two cuts in a small +shoot, more cuts in a large shoot, and then with his instrument +carefully removed the bark strips. + +He placed the pieces of bark in bundles, in which shape the cinnamon +was to stay for a while, that it might ferment, so that the outer +skin and the under green portion might be more easily scraped away +by Comale with a curved knife. After that, the inner cinnamon bark +would dry and draw up, till the pieces looked like quills. But ever, +as Comale worked this day, something inly disturbed his thoughts. He +was very unhappy. + +"Comale," warned his father sharply, "that was a bad cut! Be more +careful!" + +Comale's father was attending to some bark that had dried to quills. +He was putting small cinnamon quills into larger ones, till he made +a collection about forty inches long. Then he would bind the +cinnamon into bundles by pieces of split bamboo. But Comale's father +kept an eye on his son's work, also. + +Comale was much abashed at his father's reproof. For a time the lad +kept his mind upon the cinnamon. Then his thoughts went back to +their old uncomfortable vein, for he found in a tree a little bundle +of sticks from four to six inches long, all the sticks placed +lengthwise, the whole looking like a small bunch of firewood. Comale +knew what this bundle was, well enough, for many a time he had found +this kind of a nest of the larva of a moth. He knew it was lined +with fine spun silk, and that the heathen people said that the moth +used once to be a real person who stole wood, and who, having died, +came back to earth again in the form of a moth, condemned, for the +former theft, to make little bunches of firewood. Comale sighed as +he touched the little bundle hanging from the tree. + +He thought of the "good" butterflies that he had that morning seen +going on "pilgrimage." + +"Some people are good, and some people are bad," thought Comale +sadly. "The butterflies go on pilgrimage, but the bad moth's little +bundle of firewood hangs in the tree. I wish I did not always do +something bad!" + +Ordinarily he would not have cared for the acts of either moth or +butterfly, but to-day there was in Comale's heart a sense of guilt +that found accusation from unwonted sources. + +"Comale!" warned his father again, "another false cut!" + +Tears of mortification sprang to the lad's eyes. Never had ha seemed +to himself to be so awkward a peeler. It was something beside +awkwardness that ailed Comale's hand to-day. He was worrying over +the possible consequences of a deed of his. + +That morning, he and his sister Pidura, who was about his own age, +had quarreled. They did not quarrel as often now as they used to +before Pidura and he knew anything about the way to be a Christian. +They tried to be patient, usually, but this morning there had been a +sharp quarrel between the two about the rice for breakfast. After +breakfast, Comale, still feeling very angry, had gone into the +veranda that each one-story house possesses. This veranda was +overshadowed by the high-pitched roof, and while, inside the house, +there was matting on the floor, as in Cingalese houses, the veranda +had a rough material made from the husks of the cocoanut. This +material was so placed as to prevent serpents from crawling into the +house. Ceylon has many serpents, and Pidura, Comale's sister, was +very much afraid of them. As Comale, yet very angry with his sister, +stood in the veranda, it occurred to him that if he pulled away some +of the rough cocoanut material, he might leave a place where a +serpent could come into the house and scare Pidura. It would be good +enough for her, he thought; and not pausing to reason about the +consequences of his action, he pulled away the rough material till +he left quite a space undefended. He did not believe that Padura +would notice it. + +He could see her, busy in the kitchen, which is a house separate +from a Cingalese dwelling. Her plump, pleasant face bent over the +fire, and then again she turned away, her light jacket and striped +skirt vanishing toward another corner of the kitchen. Comale half +laughed as he thought how scared she would be if a little serpent +should find the opening he had made. Then he ran away. + +But now, since beginning his day's work, his quarrel and the +possible consequences of his misdeed had begun to weigh heavily on +Comale's conscience, and had lent an accusing tongue to nature. So +true is it that a guilty conscience finds censure where a heart that +is at peace with God and man would find no reproving reminder. + +Comale could not go home till nightfall, and all day his worry +increased. Why had he done so wicked a thing? The quarrel over the +trouble about the rice looked so little, now! If a poisonous snake +should find that opening, and should creep in, and strike his +mother, or Pidura, or the little brother, or, the baby! It was +dreadful to think of! Why had he blindly followed his anger? Had he +not often heard that he who would be a Christian must forgive +others? Instead of forgiving Pidura, he had done something that +perhaps might kill her. + +"Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, +even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you." It was what the +missionary had said. + +"I ought to have forgiven Pidura!" Comale's heart cried. "Oh, I am +bad, bad! How can I bear it, to wait till I can go home to see if +all is safe?" + +Naturally, Comale's work was not done well, to-day. But he cared +little for criticism of his peeling, when at evening the time came +to go home. He ran all the way. He plunged headlong into the street +where he lived. He ran past the tile-roofed houses. There was his +home's veranda with bunches of bananas hanging in the shade, and a +basket of cocoa-nuts below. Comale hastened in, out of breath, yet +trying to act as if nothing ailed him. Pidura was safe! He saw her. +He found his mother and the baby in another room. Comale drew a long +breath, and tried to stop trembling. His little brothers were in the +street. + +It was growing dusk, and another fear beset him. If a serpent had +crawled into the house, the creature might have hidden itself, and +might not come out till sometime in the night. Comale guiltily +slipped into the veranda again. The unprotected portion had not been +discovered. It lay exposed as he had left it. + +As well as he could, Comale replaced the cocoanut-husk material, so +that it might be a defense as before. Then he went softly around +within the house, hunting for any possible hiding-place where the +enemy he dreaded might be concealed. + +"Comale," said his mother, "what are you doing?" And Comale did not +dare to hunt any more. + +He was dreadfully miserable as he lay that night in the darkness. He +could not sleep. He listened for any outcry. To think that he might +have let an enemy into his own home! Comale rose upon his elbow to +listen. The walls of Cingalese houses are not carried up to the +roof, and, because of this, an outcry or conversation in one room +can be heard all over the house. Comale listened. Sometimes he +fancied he heard the sound of something slipping over the matting on +the floor. So worried was he that when he slept it was only by short +naps from which he woke with a start, and resumed his listening. + +Toward morning, when light began to come, Comale crept from his +place. He looked toward where his little brothers slept. Hanging +above one of the little boys was a slender dark line. It was alive! +It swayed to and fro in the shadows, and seemed to slip a little +lower toward the sleeping child. Comale started. He sprang forward +with a cry, and caught the swaying thing. But it was no living +creature that Comale brought with him to the floor. It was only a +long, thin strip of bamboo with which Comale's father had intended +to bind cinnamon bark! The strip had been hung up out of the way, +and had swung a little in the current of air between the top of the +wall and the roof. As the bamboo strip swayed, it had gradually +slipped lower and lower toward the sleeping little boy below. + +Comale's outcry had aroused the household; and without reserve the +penitent lad told to the family the story of his misdeed. His +dark-faced father smiled slightly and showed his teeth through his beard. +He understood now the mistakes Comale had made in the cinnamon work +the previous day. + +"A wrong heart makes corundoo peeling go ill, Comale," he said +gravely. + +"Corundoo" is the native word for cinnamon. + +"A wrong heart makes rice-cooking go ill, too," softly confessed +Pidura. "I am sorry for yesterday's rice! It was I who made Comale's +heart angry." + +The father looked from one child to the other. + +"Little children, love one another," he said. + + + + +AT THE PANADERIA. + + +The door of the "panaderia" opened. Americans would have called the +place a bakery, but the sign said "Panaderia," which might be +interpreted "breadery" or bake-house. All California does not read +English, and it behooves shop-keepers sometimes to word their signs +for the customers desired. In like manner the "Restaurante +Mexicana," across the street, on a sign advertised "comidas," or +meals, at twenty-five and fifty cents. + +Through the panaderia doorway came a girl and a boy. They walked +along by the "zanja," or irrigation ditch, that here bordered the +road. The fern-leaved pepper trees beside the zanja were dotted with +clusters of small, bright red berries. + +"Rosa," said the boy, when the two had walked a little way, "I saw +in that big yard many purple and green grapes, spread out drying for +raisins." + +Rosa did not answer. She trudged on, carrying her basket of bread. +The brother carried a loaf in brown paper. He and she lived at the +panaderia, and had set forth to carry the bread to the two regular +customers. + +"Rosa," stated the boy again, after a pause, "all the little oranges +on the trees over there are green." + +Rosa did not even look toward the oranges. + +"Rosa," affirmed the boy emphatically, when a few minutes had gone +by, "the Chinese doctor is measuring a window in his house! See! He +has some little teacups and a teapot in his front room! I saw them +just now." + +Rosa looked absently toward the old building, inside a window of +which was visible the head of the Chinese doctor, who wore black +goggles, and who was indeed measuring his window for some reason. +Rosa had small hope of the Chinese doctor as a future customer. She +had seen him eating his rice with chop-sticks, and he never came to +buy a scrap of bread or anything else. Rosa sighed to think what +would become of the panaderia, if all the world had the same opinion +as the Chinese doctor, in regard to eating. In these days Rosa was +in danger of looking upon the world from a strictly calculating +standpoint, and of regarding only those people as worthy of her +interest who either were or might become customers of the panaderia. +Still indeed customers were needed, for the receipts had been +slight, lately, and Rosa's grandmother's parrot, Papagayo, a bird of +such understanding that he had learned to screech, "Pan por dinero," +(bread for money) had recently seen more of the former than of the +latter in the shop. + +Rosa and her brother still kept by the zanja, even when it turned +away from the road. They went on till they reached the orange +orchard of the Zanjero of the town. The Zanjero is the man who has +the oversight of the irrigation system, and he has deputies under +him. Rosa and her brother Joseph thought the Zanjero a great man, +and stood much in awe of the irrigation laws concerning stealing +water, or raising a gate to waste water, or giving water to persons +outside the district. + +The two bread-carriers went through the orange orchard, which was +not being irrigated at this hour, for the Zanjero was particular +himself to keep the hour that he paid for, as other men should be. +Up to the Zanjero's house Rosa now carried the bread, and his wife +herself paid for it. Rosa tied the coins carefully in one corner of +the black shawl that she wore over her head. + +"Rosa," anticipated Joseph aloud, as they went away through the +orange orchard again, "when I am grown up, I shall be a Zanjero, and +we will not have to keep the panaderia!" + +But Rosa looked unbelieving. "It is not granted every man to be the +Zanjero," returned she gravely, "and I love the panaderia." + +It was true. She did love it, even to the castor-oil plants that +grew like weeds in neglected places in the yard, and down to the +south wall that was hung with a thick veil of red peppers that her +grandmother was drying in the sun. It was only because the panaderia +had not enough customers that Rosa looked so grave to-day. Besides, +the grandmother's birthday was near, and where was money for a +present? + +At the other house where the children regularly delivered bread, +irrigation had been going on all the morning. The half-day of +irrigation, for which the owner of this orange orchard had paid, was +just over, and the water-gate connecting the man's ditch with the +main zanja was being shut when Rosa and Joseph arrived. The little +water-gate was like a wooden shovel. It slid down some grooves, and +the running water stopped. It squirmed in the zanja an instant. Then +the little wooden gate was fastened with a padlock, as every gate +must be when the payer for water had received from the Zanjero's +deputy the amount of water paid for, whether by the fifty-cent-hour, +or the two-dollar-day, or the dollar-and-a-quarter night rate, and +whoever unauthorized should unfasten the padlock and open the gate +would be a thief of water. + +After witnessing the shutting off of the water, Joseph carried his +paper-enfolded loaf to the house of this second regular customer, +and then the children turned homeward toward the panaderia. + +"Pan por dinero!" cried the parrot, Papagayo, when Rosa and Joseph +reentered the panaderia; but alas! no customers were there. Only the +grandmother sat sewing behind the counter, her blurred old eyes +close to the cloth she held. + +"I will take care of the panaderia now, grandmother," Rosa offered; +and the grandmother answered, "I will rest a little, then." + +The poor, dear grandmother! She was so tired and thin, nowadays, and +her hands trembled so much! It was hard for her to try to sew. If +the panaderia paid better, if there were more regular customers to +whom Rosa and Joseph could carry eatables, then the grandmother +would not attempt sewing at all, for it strained her eyes very much. +But now she did not know what else to do. There must be a living for +herself and the children someway. + +Rosa found the afternoon long, sitting behind the counter, waiting +for customers and trying to sew. A little boy came in and bought a +loaf. Two girls bought another. Then the panaderia door ceased to +swing, and the quiet afternoon went on. Across the street, women +stood here and there and gossiped. + +Nobody came. It grew four, then five, then six o'clock. Finally the +panaderia door opened, and a woman entered. Rosa sprang up. Here was +a customer, at last! + +But the woman only came to the counter, and stood still. She was +young, very thin and ill, evidently, and her eyes had tears in their +depths. Under the black shawl that was over the newcomer's head Rosa +spied a dark mark, as of a bruise, on the forehead. The young woman +tried to speak. + +"I have three little children," she said. "I am sick. I cannot work, +and their father drinks mescal--always mescal. I have no money. Will +you give me a little bread? I am no beggar, but my babies are so +hungry!" + +Rosa knew how much harm mescal (a kind of intoxicating drink made +from the maguey or Mexican aloe) did among the neighbors. She did +not doubt the woman's tale; only it was disappointing, when one +thought a real customer had at last come to the panaderia, to find +that it was not so. But the girl nodded sympathetically at the +conclusion of the young woman's appeal. + +"I will speak to grandmother," she promised. + +She found her grandmother lying down still, but half awake, and +explained to her the situation. + +"Yes, yes," returned the grandmother, her wrinkled face full of +sympathy. "Give her the bread. Has not the Lord told us to care for +the poor? He would not be pleased if we sent her away without bread. +Tell the poor woman to come again. The little children, must be +fed." + +Rosa hurried back to the counter, and gave the woman two fresh +loaves and the grandmother's message. + +"Gracias!" (thanks) sobbed the young woman and hurried away. + +"I hope she will not tell that we gave her bread," murmured Rosa to +herself as the usual quiet settled over the panaderia. "We can't +afford to give bread to many people." + +The weeks went by, and the panaderia did not prosper very well. It +grew to be a customary thing for the thin, sick woman to come daily +for bread, and she was never refused. She said with a sensitive +eagerness that when she was well again she would work and pay all +back, and Rosa's grandmother answered "Yes," cheerily, to this +promise, though any one who looked at the poor young mother's face +could see that there was small prospect of her ever being well again +in this world. Her husband still drank. + +Times grew harder and harder at the panaderia. In the midst of the +winter a heavy blow fell, for the Zanjero's wife took a fancy to +making her own bread, and as she was the regular customer who bought +more loaves and paid more promptly than the other, the panaderia +felt the loss keenly. Customers were very scarce, and the +grandmother's eyes became so weak that she could no longer sew. Rosa +sewed the little that she could, but some days there was scarcely +enough to eat at the panaderia, except the very few loaves in the +case--the loaves that the three hardly knew whether to dare eat or +not, for fear some one should come in and want to buy. There were +many other people who were poor and without work, and the little +family kept their troubles to themselves. The poor sick neighbor +always came every day and was given bread. Winter passed and spring +arrived without much change in the panaderia's prospects. + +"We could have eaten that ourselves," thought Rosa one night when +the neighbor went out with the bread. + +The grandmother had said that the poor were God's care, and he would +bless those who for his sake fed them. + +"But we keep on being poorer and poorer," thought Rosa with a sigh. + +Then she reproached herself. Had not her grandmother said that the +Lord cared about the panaderia? One day when spring was turning into +summer, the poor neighbor came in earlier than usual. Her face was +very white. Rosa and her grandmother were both by the counter. The +grandmother smiled and was about to draw out the bread and give it +to the woman. But the poor neighbor dropped her head on the counter, +and stretched out her hand toward the old grandmother. The +grandmother took the hand, and lo! in her own lay a little key. + +"Take it to the Zanjero!" sobbed the sick neighbor, "and tell him to +forgive! It was the mescal made my husband do it!" + +Little by little Rosa and her grandmother pieced together the story +of the small key. Some unscrupulous persons wished to obtain water +for irrigation without paying for it. A key was made that fitted the +padlocks of the little wooden gates leading from the zanja. By night +some one must open these gates and close them again before morning. +It was thieving, of course, and the Zanjero or his deputies might +catch the person who did it. But the sick neighbor's husband, +wanting money to buy more mescal, had been induced to undertake the +task of stealthily opening the gates. His wife, suspicious of his +errand, had followed him on the first night of his attempt. She had +seen him stop by a Mexican cactus, and raise something, she knew not +what, in the zanja. After he had gone, she went to the spot and +putting her hand into the water felt the current that ran through a +gate he had opened. + +"Then I know!" tearfully declared the woman to Rosa's grandmother. +"I follow my husband. I tell him the Zanjero is the friend of the +good panaderia that gives the bread! I tell him he shall not open +the other gates! I snatch the key! I tell him `No! No! The panaderia +is my friend! The Zanjero is the panaderia's friend!' He shall not +cheat the Zanjero! My husband say if he open other gates he get +money for mescal. I say 'No!' I run away with key. My husband say, +'Don't tell anybody! I will not open the gates again! Let other men +do it.' But I say, 'I must tell, because the Zanjero is the best +friend of the panaderia. No one shall cheat the best friend of the +panaderia, that feeds our babies so long--all winter and now." + +Evidently the woman supposed that the Zanjero was still the +principal regular customer of the panaderia. Rosa and her +grandmother had never told about his ceasing to buy bread, and the +neighbor thought that he was still considered their very chief +customer. + +That evening Rosa and Joseph took the long-unused path to the +Zanjero's house. His wife came to the door. + +"Oh," she said, "it's the two little bread-bringers! No, I don't +want any bread. Are you trying to get orders?" + +"May I see the Zanjero?" asked Rosa gravely. + +The Zanjero's wife, whose name in plain English was Mrs. Craig, led +the two children into her husband's presence. Rosa, very pale with +the thought of being in the presence of so great a man, told her +story in trembling tones, and held out the key. + +The Zanjero took it, and looked at it curiously. + +"Will you forgive?" asked Rosa timorously. "The poor, sick woman +asks you to forgive. She says it was the mescal that made her +husband do it." + +"I presume so," returned the man grimly. "They're all thieves." + +But the Zanjero's wife was wiser than her husband. She dropped into +a chair and put an arm around Rosa. + +"You have not told all the story yet, or else I do not understand," +she said gently. "What makes this woman so much your friend that she +comes and tells your grandmother about the key?" + +So the whole story came out at last--about the long, sad winter at +the panaderia; the grandmother's attempts at sewing; her failing +eyes; the lack of customers, yet the daily giving of bread to the +poor neighbor and her three children; the trust that the Lord knew +about the panaderia and its occupants. + +The Zanjero's wife understood it all now. She looked up at her +husband. There were tears in her eyes as she said: + +"While you are forgiving that man, you'd better think how much +forgiveness I need for having stopped taking bread of the panaderia +in the heart of winter, when they needed the money so badly! To +think of their struggling along, and yet giving bread every day to a +woman and three babies! If the panaderia folks had not done this, +you'd never have found out about this plan to rob the zanja! That +woman would simply have kept the story and the key to herself, and +those dishonest men would have found somebody else to open the gates +at night for them. It was only because she thought that you were a +noted customer of the panaderia that she sent you word of this plan +to steal the water." + +The great Zanjero turned and looked at Rosa. + +"Tell that sick woman," he said gravely, "that I forgive her husband +for opening the gate, though I don't know how much water he helped +steal that night. Tell her, though, that he must never do such a +thing again. I am coming to see him myself, and I shall tell him he +is forgiven. But he must stop drinking mescal." + +"And tell your grandmother," broke in the Zanjero's wife, "that I +want three loaves of bread to-morrow morning, and I want bread every +day. Here's the money for the three loaves. And I'm going to get you +a lot of regular customers! I have friends enough. They'll take +bread of you, if I ask them. You poor children! Why didn't you come +and tell me about things, long ago?" + +So it was that the mercy which the old grandmother showed to the +sick neighbor and her children returned in blessing on the +panaderia. For the Zanjero's wife rested not till she had fulfilled +her promise. Customers became many and well-paying, and the old +grandmother, happy in the prosperity, said to Rosa and to Joseph: + +"See you, my children? Did I not tell you that the Lord knew about +the panaderia? It is he who sends all this good to us who deserve it +not." + + + + +MISS STRATTON'S PAPER + + +The wind was blowing quite keenly from the north, and Miss Stratton +had the collar of her coat turned up, as she hurried through the +darkness of the avenue. She was talking behind her coat collar, the +tips of which brushed her lips. If what Miss Stratton said had been +audible to any one beside herself, it would have sounded as if she +were talking severely to somebody. + +"I don't see why you can't throw that evening paper where we can +find it!" Miss Stratton was saying under her breath. "We have a +broad walk, and there's plenty of room! I've been out in the yard +three or four times to-night, and hunted thoroughly, and mother's +been out once. Mother's eyes are poor, and she likes to have the +paper before dark." + +Miss Stratton caught her breath in the cold wind. She hastened by a +gas-lamp, climbed the hill, and found her way in darkness up the +long steps of a house. She fumbled for the bell and rang it. There +was a little stir within, the opening of an interior door to let +light into the hall, and then a boy's step. The front door opened. +Miss Stratton looked straight into the boyish face that appeared. + +"I want to know where you threw our paper to-night," she demanded. +"I can't find it anywhere." + +The boy stepped one side so that the light within the farther room +might fall on Miss Stratton's face. He recognized her. + +"Oh," returned the boy, "your paper went up a tree." + +"Up a tree!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, indignantly. "Why didn't you +come in and tell me, so I'd know where to look for it?" + +"If I'd had an extra copy with me, I'd have thrown in another," said +the boy--"I'll get you one." + +He walked back into the sitting-room, glad to escape from the +accusing subscriber, whom he had not expected to see following him +to his home. Miss Stratton sternly waited. The boy's sister had come +into the hall, and was holding a candle for a light. Her brother +came back with the evening paper, and Miss Stratton took it. + +"I wish you'd be careful where you throw that paper, Harry," she +admonished him, her indignation cooling. "I've spoken to you about +that before. I don't like to have to come away up here for the +paper. It isn't convenient." + +"Yes'm," answered the boy. + +Miss Stratton hurried home. When she arrived there, one of the first +things she saw gleaming faintly through the garden's darkness, was +the missing evening paper that Harry had thrown into a pepper tree +near the side fence. During Miss Stratton's absence, the strong wind +had shaken the paper down, and it lay at the foot of the tree. "How +did he suppose I was going to find that paper up that tree?" +questioned Miss Stratton. "I did look up there before dark, but I +didn't see anything." + +The evening paper was easily discoverable for a week or so after +this: Then matters went back to their old state and Miss Stratton +frequently spent a quarter of an hour finding her evening paper. + +"If he'd take the slightest pains he could throw it on this walk +that is ten feet wide!" she would tell herself indignantly, as she +pushed aside the branches of blue marguerites and the leaves of +calla-lilies, and peered into holes on either side of the steps near +the front gate, where the watering of the garden had washed away the +soil. + +Miss Stratton had liked Harry very much, when he first became paper +boy. He had a frank manner that made him friends. At first he +carefully threw the paper on Miss Stratton's front piazza. He never +skipped an evening, as the former paper boy had sometimes done, and +Miss Stratton rejoiced that at last a paper boy who was reliable had +been found for the route. Months had passed, and while Harry was as +careful at some houses as before, Miss Stratton's was not among that +number. Harry had three 'customers on that street and he nightly +walked only as far toward Miss Stratton's as would enable him to +throw her paper and then, with two or three steps, throw another +paper to the neighbor diagonally across the street. A few more steps +would have made Harry sure that Miss Stratton's paper fell every +night squarely on the broad front path, but he "fired the paper at +her," as he expressed it, and the result was Miss Stratton's +otherwise unnecessary number of steps hunting after her paper. Yet +Harry would have scorned to cheat any customer. He fulfilled the +letter of the law. He delivered the paper. + +Late one afternoon the minister and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Landler, +came by invitation to take supper with Mrs. and Miss Stratton. After +a while, as they sat, pleasantly chatting, Mr. Landler spoke of a +ship that had been overdue for almost two weeks. A neighbor's son +was on board, and this fact caused Mr. and Mrs. Landler to look at +the papers, morning and night, as soon as possible, to ascertain if +anything had been heard of the missing vessel. + +"That's what my daughter and I have been doing, too," returned Mrs. +Stratton. "I wonder if this evening's paper hasn't come, so we could +look?" + +Her daughter glanced at the clock. + +"Why, yes!" said she. "That paper ought to have come before now." + +Miss Stratton went out and hunted carefully. No paper was visible, +search as she might. + +"Perhaps it hasn't come yet," she said to the guests, when she came +in. + +A little later she went out again. Mrs. Landler came to help search, +though Miss Stratton disclaimed the need of aid. + +"The paper doesn't always fall where I can see it," explained Miss +Stratton, mortified at her failure to find the paper for her guests. + +"Who brings it around?" asked Mrs. Landler, looking at the broad +front walk. + +"Harry Butterworth," answered Miss Stratton. + +She did not tell of the annoyance Harry had caused her heretofore. +Harry's mother was a church friend of the Landlers and the +Strattons, and Miss Stratton was loath to expose the boy's +shortcomings. + +No paper appeared, and after a thorough search, Mrs. Landler and +Miss Stratton went into the house. Dusk was coming. Miss Stratton +had occasion to go upstairs for something, and glancing out of the +front hall window, she saw the twisted roll of that evening's paper +lying on a projection of the roof. + +"He threw the paper on the roof!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, "and he +didn't come in to tell me!" + +She pushed up the hall window, and reaching out as far as she dared, +she tried with an old umbrella handle to dislodge the paper. She +drew breathlessly back. + +"It's no use! I can't get it!" she gasped. + +She went downstairs and told her mother quietly, but Mrs. Stratton +had no scruples about informing her guests what had happened. + +"That boy's thrown this evening's paper on the roof!" stated old +Mrs. Stratton. "He does put us to so much trouble!" + +The minister instantly offered to climb the roof. Miss Stratton and +her mother protested, but Mr. Landler took off his coat, climbed out +of an upper-story window, and secured the paper. In one column was a +notice that the missing ship had been heard from and was safe. Great +was the rejoicing around the Strattons' supper-table that their +friend's son was not lost. + +The next time Mr. Landler saw Harry, the minister said pleasantly, +"You gave me quite a climb the other night, my boy." + +Harry looked astonished. + +"Gave you a climb?" he questioned. "I gave you one?" + +"Yes," nodded Mr. Landler. "Miss Stratton's evening paper fell on +her roof. My wife and I were taking supper there, so I climbed the +roof for the paper." + +Harry turned very red. Was ever a paper boy so unfortunate? He knew +the paper fell on the roof, but who would have supposed Mr. Landler +was at the Strattons'? Harry wanted very much to be thought well of +by the minister and his wife. Everybody liked them. + +"I didn't know you were there," apologized Harry, hardly knowing +what to say. + +"No," said the minister, gently, "we never know who may be in any +home. You didn't know you were delivering the paper to me. You +thought it was to Miss Stratton. Wasn't that it?" + +"Yes," acknowledged the boy. + +"If the Lord Jesus were here on earth, Harry," went on the minister +in a very grave, tender tone, "and if he wanted a little service +from you, you wouldn't render it in the way you deliver Miss +Stratton's paper, would you? Yet she is his child, one of his +representatives on earth, and as you treat her you treat him. +'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these,' you +know, Harry." + +The next night Miss Stratton's paper fell with an emphatic thwack in +the middle of the front walk. The next night it did the same, and +the next, and the next. + +"What has changed that boy?" wondered Miss Stratton with grateful +relief, as weeks passed and the paper still fell in plain sight. + +She did not know that as Harry carefully aimed his papers, the boy +thought, "'Ye have done it unto me.'" + + + + +AN HONEST DAY'S WORK. + + +Willis walked down one of the city wharves. He was going to see his +father, Mr. Sutherland, who was one of the men employed by the State +Harbor Commissioners in repairing wharves. The piles that supported +the wharves often needed renewing, being eaten by teredos. Sometimes +the flooring of the wharves sagged and needed restoring to the +former level. + +Willis liked to see the pile-driver with its big hammer. He marveled +at the air-pumps with which sagging wharves were raised. Perhaps +three air-pumps at a time would be stationed over as many "caps," as +the twelve-inch timbers under the wharf's flooring were called. The +pumps, being worked, would raise the caps and hold them until blocks +could be shoved underneath. Then the pumps were worked some more, +and other blocks put under, till the wharf was restored to the +required level. Great screws such as are used in raising buildings +were also employed under wharves sometimes. There were rocks under +some wharves, and water was under others. Whichever it was, Willis' +father often had to go under the wharves and climb around among the +caps and stringers and piles, repairing. + +Seven or eight other men were employed like Mr. Sutherland. It was +mid-forenoon, but Willis saw that three or four of the men were not +working. They were idling around the engine of the pile-driver, and +were eating something that Willis found to be cooked crabs. + +"Where's father?" asked Willis. "Under the wharf, working," answered +one man. "He thinks the State's looking after him every minute." + +Willis saw some planks had been taken up in a distant part of the +wharf's flooring. He went there and swung himself down under the +wharf. There were rocks there, and Willis, following the sound of a +hammer, came to his father. + +"That you, Willis?" asked his father pleasantly. + +"Pa," said the boy, "some of the other men are up there eating +crabs. Why don't you go up and get some, too?" + +"It isn't lunch-time," returned Mr. Sutherland. "We're expected to +work now." + +"Three or four of the men aren't working," said Willis. + +"No," rejoined his father. "Several of the men lately have taken to +catching crabs sometimes during work-hours." + +"The men tie a rope to a big twine net, and bait it, and let it out +into the bay. In a little while they haul it in again, and there are +maybe half a dozen big crabs in the net. The men have made a sort of +boiler out of an empty kerosene can with one end cut off. They +attach a hose to the boiler of the engine and fill that can with hot +water. The crabs cook in a short time and those men stop work to +eat. It would be all right if the men cooked the crabs at noon, when +we're allowed to lay off, but they stop in the fore-noon sometimes +an hour, and again in the afternoon sometimes, and eat crabs. The +foreman we have now allows it. He does it himself." + +While Mr. Sutherland talked he was working. Several of the other men +were working up on top of the wharf, as Willis could tell by the +sounds, but the boy's thoughts were with those three or four other +men who were idling. Were not those men employed to work as steadily +as his father? + +"It isn't fair for them to stop and you to have to keep on," +objected Willis. "I should think those, men would be discharged." + +"They may and they mayn't," said his father. "They are appointed by +different Harbor Commissioners, and as long as the Commissioners +don't know, I suppose the men will keep their places." + +"One man told me you thought the State was looking at you every +minute," said Willis. + +"My boy," answered Mr. Sutherland, fitting a block into place, "it's +true that I'm employed to work for the State, and I feel just as +much that I must do honest work for the State as if I were working +for some individual. But it isn't thought of the State that makes me +faithful. A Christian ought to give an honest day's work. Some +people don't seem to think cheating the State is as bad as cheating +another person. But it is." + +Willis climbed upon the wharf again. He saw when the men who had +been eating crabs came back to work. He noticed they did not work +very heartily. + +"My father doesn't work that way," thought the boy. + +"An honest day's work." The words followed Willis as he went away +from the wharf. The next week Willis was going to begin work for a +large dry-goods store. + +"I'll do honest day's work, too," resolved Willis. + +He did not put it into words, but he thought that the One who saw +whether a man under the wharves did an honest day's work would see +whether a boy working for a store did the same. Willis was trying to +be a Christian. + +Busy days Willis had after that. The large dry-goods store had many +customers who often did not wish to carry bundles home. The store +had two pretty, white-covered, small carts for the delivering of +packages. Willis drove one cart and a boy named August drove the +other. + +One afternoon Willis, out delivering dry-goods, drove by the house +where August lived, and saw the store's other cart standing there. + +"August is home," thought Willis. Just then, August came out. + +"Don't tell," called August, laughing. + +Willis, hardly comprehending, drove on about his business. + +That evening at store-closing time, both boys were back with their +receipt books, signed by customers who had received their packages. +The boys went out of the store together. + +"Saw me coming out of our house today, didn't you?" said August to +Willis. + +"Don't you ever stop off half an hour or so, when you're on your +rounds?" + +"Why, no!" answered Willis. "What would they say at the store, if +they knew?" + +"They can't know," asserted August. "I often stop, that way. +Yesterday I went to see my aunt. How can the store tell? They don't +know just how long it will take to deliver all the parcels. Some +folks live farther off than others. Who's going to know?" + +Willis hesitated. He remembered that the thought of the men at the +wharves had been: "Who would know?" Willis had never heard that +anybody had lost his place at the wharves on account of dawdling. +What if August never was found out? Was it right to steal an hour, +or half an hour, of his employer's time? + +"No," thought Willis. "I'm going to be honest." + +Late one afternoon August came into the store. Willis was later +still, because he had had more parcels to deliver. Both boys' +receipt books showed the customers' signatures. + +"There was a big fire up-town," said August secretly to Willis +afterwards. "I stopped to see it before delivering my parcels. You +just ought to have been there!" + +"How long did you stay?" asked Willis, gravely. + +"Oh, I don't know!" returned August. "Three-quarters of an hour, +maybe. I delivered my parcels all right afterwards." + +Willis did not tell anybody about August's actions. + +"I wish he wouldn't tell me about them, either," thought Willis, +uncomfortably. + +That week August was discharged. + +"I happened to be at the fire myself, and saw you," said one of the +store's proprietors to August. "The next time you stop to see a +fire, you will not have a chance to keep one of our delivery carts +waiting an hour while you waste your employer's time watching the +firemen. It didn't look well to see our firm's name on that white +cart standing idle, just as if we hadn't many customers." + +"And you were seen once," added the other proprietor, "with one of +our carts standing beside an open block, while a ball game was being +played there last week." + +As Willis regretfully saw his companion turned away, there came back +to him the scene in the semi-darkness under the wharf, when his +father said, "A Christian ought to give an honest day's work." "And +I will," he muttered. + + + + +TIMOTEO + + +Two white jaw-bones of a whale stood upright in the sunshine, their +surfaces showing to a near observer numerous small indentations that +caught the dust. The jaw-bones were relics from a little whaling +station that had once been in business near the town. Even now +whales occasionally wander from the great Pacific into the blue bay +on which this old, partly Spanish, California town was situated. + +The two white jaw-bones now served the purpose of gate-posts, and +stood some six feet high beside the front gate that opened into a +garden where red hollyhocks rose higher than the humbled jaw-bones. +Inside the gate, the front walk had long been paved with the +vertebrae of whales, each vertebra being laid separately. + +No one who had not seen such a walk would realize how well whales' +vertebrae will answer for paving. Some of the old vertebrae had now +sunk below the original level of the walk, so that the path by which +a person went to the old adobe house beyond the red hollyhocks was +somewhat uneven as to surface. + +The long, low house was partly roofed with tiles, and the adobe +walls of the dwelling were a yard thick, as any one might see who +looked at the windowsills. + +On one of these broad sills Isabelita leaned, her black eyes fixed +on the bone gate-posts that she could see through the blossoming +hollyhocks. There was a displeased expression on the young girl's +face. She was watching for her brother Timoteo, who would soon come +from school. + +"He must go for the cow tonight," resolved Isabelita aloud in +Spanish. "I will not go! I wish the Americans had never come to this +town! In the old days, my father says, there were no cattle notices +on the trees. My father did not have to go for cows every night!" +And Isabelita frowned as she remembered the notices about letting +cattle run loose upon the highway. + +These Spanish--and--English notices were now nailed on pines here +and there along the roads, and proved a source of inquiry to +wandering Americans who saw the boards with their heading: + +"AVISO!!" + +preceded by two inverted exclamation points and followed by two +others in the upright position--that some Americans have perhaps +been wont to think is the only attitude in which an exclamation +point can stand, Americans not being accustomed to the ease with +which an exclamation point can stand on its head, when used in +Spanish literature. + +But it was not only with cattle notices and Americans that Isabelita +was offended this day. She was in a bad humor, and nothing suited +her. Hence it was in no pleasant voice that she called to Timoteo, +when he at last made his appearance between the bony gate-posts: + +"Hombre bobo, thou must go for the cow tonight!" + +Now, "hombre bobo" means much the same as our word "booby," +therefore this was not a very soothing manner of beginning her +information. To Isabelita's surprise, however, Timoteo answered only +"Yes," and, coming in, put his one book carefully away, and then +went forth for the cow, as he had been bidden. Isabelita stared +after him. She had at least expected a quarrel. + +Isabelita would have been more surprised still, if she could have +seen what Timoteo did after reaching the place in the woods where +the cow was tethered. He threw himself down; crushing the fragrant, +small-leaved vines of "yerba buena" as he fell, and, hiding his +face, Timoteo cried in a half-angry, half-hopeless tumult of +feeling. The pink blossoming thistles nodded, and the cow looked +wonderingly at the lad, but no one else saw or heard him. By and by +he sat up. + +"Teacher never like me any more," he told himself, his lips +quivering. "Americanos tell her my father lazy, my mother no clean. +And I try, I try!" + +He choked down a sob. A new teacher had come to the public school, a +sweet-faced, pleasant-toned young lady, whom Timoteo was ready to +obey devotedly from the first time she smiled on the school. Timoteo +did want to learn to be somebody! He looked with admiration on the +Americans boys' clothes and on an especial blue necktie that Herbert +Page wore. Timoteo wondered how it would seem to have a father who +worked and who provided his family with plenty to wear. The lad +Timoteo meant to be like one of the Americans when he grew up. He +would work, instead of lounging about the streets all day, smoking +"cigarros." + +But alas! That day he had overheard some of the American boy +scholars talking to the teacher about the Spanish ones. + +"There's Timoteo," he overheard Herbert Page say. "You don't want to +have him for your milk-man, Miss Montgomery! I don't believe they +keep the milk pails any too clean at his house. Laziness and dirt go +together in these Spanish houses!" + +Poor Timoteo! He had hoped the teacher and her mother would take +milk of him. Miss Montgomery had almost promised to, before this, +and one customer for milk made such a difference in Timoteo's home +finances! + +"But now she never like me any more," Timoteo hopelessly forewarned +himself, as he sat among the trees, his eyes yet red with crying. +"And I try, I try! I have learned wash my hands clean, when I go +school. And I try so hard learn read and write!" + +Timoteo sighed heavily. He did not hate those American boys who +looked so much nicer than he. He only had a sorrowful, hopeless +feeling as he unfastened the cow and started homeward with her. + +But when the cow lumbered in through the two white, strange +gate-posts at home, she swerved aside a little, and Timoteo saw, standing +under the tall red hollyhocks, his teacher, Miss Montgomery. She had +a bright tin pail in her hand, and she wanted some milk. + +Timoteo's eyes brightened. + +"I go wash my hands clean, clean!" he cried, and, disappearing, came +back a few minutes after, holding out his palms for Miss +Montgomery's inspection. + +She smiled, and gave him the pail. + +"Poor little fellow!" she thought, as she watched him milking. "I'm +afraid some of our American boys don't have charity enough for him." + +Timoteo beamed with happiness as he returned the pail brimming with +milk. He was Miss Montgomery's milkman regularly after that, and +when, on Sundays, Miss Montgomery taught a Sunday-school class of +boys, Timoteo always slipped in and listened, though the teacher +wondered sometimes if the boy could understand. + +There were fair-haired American boys who looked down on Timoteo at +school and who made him feel that a Spanish boy was an inferior. +Sometimes Timoteo almost felt as if some of the Chinese boys, in the +small fishing-village outside the town, were happier than he, for +they did not seem to care to know anything but how to dry nets and +dry fish. Herbert Page was one of the school boys who always felt +superior to Timoteo. Timoteo did not wonder at it. He had a very +humble opinion of himself, yet sometimes he wished Herbert would +only look at him as he passed by. Herbert would not have spoken +rudely to Timoteo. That, Herbert would have considered degrading. He +simply ignored the Spanish boys of the school. + +One Saturday morning, when Timoteo stood on the edge of the cliffs +outside the town, he saw Herbert picking his way out over the long +stretches of rocks to seaward; a basket on his arm and a stick in +his hand. + +"He go to get abalones, and think he can knock them off with a +stick!" laughed Timoteo. + +Herbert had not long lived in this vicinity, and he did not know the +tenacity with which the large, oval-shaped shell, called abalone, or +ear-shell, which is so well known and valued for its beautifully +colored, irridescent lining, clings to the rock when the shell's +inmate is living. At school, the day before, Timoteo had heard +Herbert say that he intended going after abalones on Saturday. + +"He no get any," prophesied Timoteo, gazing after Herbert's +disappearing figure. + +Timoteo himself was out abalone-hunting. This was one of the ways by +which he occasionally earned a few cents, visitors to the town +buying the large shells for curiosities. But Timoteo had with him a +long iron spike with which he intended to urge the abalone-shells +from the rocks. + +The abalone has a large, very strong, white "foot" inside its long +shell, and there is a row of holes in the shell itself. It is +conjectured that the abalone perhaps exhausts the air under the +shell, and so causes the shell to cling more tightly to the rock +than ever, through atmospheric pressure. It is very difficult to +take an abalone from its rocky home, unless the creature is +surprised. + +Timoteo, however, was acquainted with abalones, and made good use of +his weapon. He clambered far out over the wet rocks for hours, +finding abalones now and then, and waging war on these thick, rough +ovals that clung so tightly to the rock, the beautiful colors of the +abalone-shells entirely concealed. Timoteo saw nothing more of +Herbert, during these hours of work. + +Timoteo succeeded in getting three abalones, the last an especially +large shell. He sat down on the rocks to rest, after the long +struggle with this big abalone. The tide was rising. He would go +home soon now. + +While he sat there, it seemed to him that he heard the sound of +outcries. At first he thought it was the gulls. Half in fun he +shouted in reply. The distant cries seemed redoubled. Timoteo caught +up his basket and long spike. He sprang to his feet. + +"Where is it?" he thought, confused with the splash of waves and the +toss of spray. + +He listened. He sped, shouting, over the rocks in the direction from +which the cries seemed to come. He stopped now and then to listen. +Yes, it was a human voice that cried for help. It was not the gulls. + +"Adonde?" (Where?) "Adonde?" shouted Timoteo, forgetting his English +in his excitement. + +The answering shouts grew more distinct. Timoteo climbed over the +wet rocks till he found himself near a place where the sounds seemed +to come from between two rocks. Timoteo saw a boy reach up part way +between the two rocks. The boy could not crawl out. The hole between +the rocks was not big enough. + +"Timoteo!" screamed a voice, and Timoteo recognized Herbert. + +"Say!" Herbert called, "run for help, won't you? I was out here +abalone-hunting, and I guess one of these big rocks must have been +poised just right to topple over. Anyhow, in climbing down here I +managed to topple it. It didn't fall on me, but it fell against the +other rocks so that there isn't room for me to crawl out of here! I +can't make the rock budge, now. And the tide's coming! I thought I'd +drown, away out here, alone. You can't do anything with that spike. +It needs three or four men with levers. Run! The tide's up to my +waist, now! There isn't room between these rocks to crawl out." + +For one moment Timoteo stood still and looked at Herbert. Then the +Spanish boy turned and flew over the rocks. Leaping from one +slippery foothold to another, he rushed toward the cliffs, up the +cliff road, on to the clusters of Chinese huts that made a little +fishing-village by itself on the edge of the bay. Whatever Spanish +or English vocabulary Timoteo used, he aroused two or three Chinamen +to forsake their frames of drying fish and cease tossing over the +other small fish that lay drying on the ground. + +Seizing the long, heavy iron rods with which the Chinese were wont +to go abalone-hunting, the three Celestials followed in Timoteo's +wake toward the place where Herbert anxiously awaited rescue. There +was much prying with the iron rods before the stone was finally +tilted enough so that the drenched prisoner was released. + +"My father pay you," gratefully promised Herbert to the Chinamen, +who nodded and plodded cheerfully back toward their tiny fishing-village. + +Herbert looked at Timoteo. + +"I'm much obliged to you," said Herbert. "You were good to run for +help." + +But now that Timoteo had seen the success of his helpers, an abashed +silence seemed to have overtaken him. He did not answer. The silence +lasted till the two boys reached the cliffs. Herbert grew uneasy. +His conscience accused him somewhat. + +"Come to my house, Timoteo, and my father will give you something +for helping me," promised Herbert uneasily, as the boys climbed the +cliffs. + +Timoteo shook his head, but he did not look up. + +"See here, Timoteo," burst out Herbert, stopping on top of the +cliffs, "what's the matter? Do you hate me?" + +Timoteo glanced up slowly. His dark eyes were full of appeal. + +"You no talk to teacher any more about me?" he besought. "You no +tell her my father lazy, we no-'count folks?" + +Timoteo's voice shook. He hurried on: "I like teacher. I try be +clean. I wash my hands, my face, all time. I do ver' good to the +teacher. But my mother differ from your mother. Your mother give you +nice clean shirt and clothes. My mother too poor. I try learn, read, +spell. I grow like American boy." + +It was the appeal of a soul that looked from Timoteo's eyes. Herbert +flushed. + +"Why, you poor fellow, of course you try!" he answered heartily. "I--I'm +sorry if I've ever said anything to the teacher that made you +feel badly, Timoteo. I won't do it again, and the other boys +sha'n't, either! The teacher knows how hard you try. She said the +other day that you were a good boy. Come on up to our house. Won't +you?" + +But Timoteo smiled, and shook his head, and went away on the long +road that led toward home. The heart of the Spanish boy was very +happy. He had done good to his enemy, and that enemy was turned into +a friend. And the teacher had said that Timoteo was a good boy! She +knew how hard he tried! + +Timoteo sang for joy as he ran. + +"I will learn! I will learn! I shall be like los Americanos!" he +sang, and then he remembered how he had been tempted for one instant +not to help Herbert. Timoteo shivered at the remembered temptation. +He sang again for very joy at having been helped to forgive his +enemy. + +In the pines Timoteo stopped, and looked upward through the swaying +treetops. + +"A Dios sea gloria por Jesu-Christo," he murmured reverently. ("To +God be glory through Jesus Christ.") + + + + +THE VICTORY OF QUANG PO + + +Jo bent down and slipped under the barbed wire fence that separated +the field back of the Chinese fishing-village from the other fields +that stretched away to the houses of the California seaside resort +under the pines. The wind blew pleasantly in from the sparkling bay. + +A large number of frames for drying fish stretched away to the back +part of the Chinese field. A great net fifty feet long was spread +out on the ground to dry. Jo looked at the wooden sinkers that were +fastened along one side of the net and smiled. "They're all on +again," he thought. + +A line of flounders stretched above the narrow, crooked street of +the fishing-village. The flounders looked like queer clothes hung to +dry on a clothes-line. There were crates of small fish, packed so +that they stood on their heads. Underneath a table of drying fish +lay a dead gopher. + +Red placards spotted the houses. On the roof of one hut a little +paper windmill was turning in the breeze. Back of one hut was a bit +of garden inclosed with a fence of branches and containing much +mustard. Chinese were washing fish. Shells were exposed for sale, +since at any hour visitors from the American settlement might come +to traverse the Chinese village, and visitors often bought shells. + +Even now, as Jo passed through the street, an old Chinaman beckoned +to the lad, and with much mystery unrolled a piece of brown paper +and showed a pearl that had come into his possession and that he +wished to sell. + +Young Chinese girls, with red or yellow-capped babies strapped on +their backs, packed or spread the fish. Some little Chinese boys +were arranging dried squids in boats drawn up on the shore. On one +boat was a kind of wooden crane, holding a hanging pan. There were +some burnt sticks in the pan, and the whole contrivance was +evidently an arrangement whereby a fire could be made in the boat +when it was out at sea. + +Jo stepped into one deserted hut, and found it to be a kitchen. An +oil can was over some ashes, and there were some queer, big kettles +near. In another place were Chinese children eating their breakfast. +One child had a Chinese cup, out of which she ate with chop-sticks. + +Jo sat down on the edge of the village, and watched three women who +were setting off in a boat, intending to row out into the surf to +get kelp. Small fish lay drying all over the rocks by the sea-beach +near Jo, and a Chinaman was lifting up the fish, and letting them +drop again by the handful, while the wind blew away the straw or +grass that had become mixed with the fish while drying. Then the +fish were spread upon matting to dry further. + +"Ho'lah!" the Chinaman said to Jo. + +"Ho'lah!" responded Jo, and the conversation ceased. + +For a few minutes Jo watched two or three Chinese boys who were +lying on the beach, sifting the white sand through their fingers, +hunting for the small, white "rice shells," that American people +often buy. + +Presently, Jo pulled a sketch-book out of his pocket, and began to +draw the collection of queer huts that composed the Chinese village. +By and by the Chinaman who had been tossing fish, Quang Po, sat down +on the rocks. He looked at Jo for a time, and then came and glanced +over Jo's shoulder, smiling. The Chinamen of the village were used +to having artists come and plant their easels here and there on the +rocks or at the entrance of the narrow street, and draw the village +on their canvas. At such times, a small group of Chinamen usually +gathered about each artist, and made in their own tongue comments on +the drawing. No artist knew the nature of the criticisms made in his +very ears. + +Jo smiled over his own drawing, as Quang Po inspected it. + +"Wha' fo' you do that?" inquired Quang Po, mustering his English. + +"This drawing?" questioned Jo. "Oh, you see, my cousin is an artist +on one of the city papers. He's older than I am, and he earns a good +deal of money. I'm going to learn to make pictures for papers, too. +Some day I'll have as good a position as my cousin has." + +Quang Po looked puzzled. He did not understand. He always thought +American pictures strange. They were not made as Chinese pictures +were. + +But Quang Po knew that once he had thought other American things +strange, too. Some Americans believed in teaching Chinese girls +wonderful stories and words from a wonderful Book. When Quang Po's +niece had been taught first by such an American, great was Quang's +wrath. To increase his indignation, another thing happened. He had +burnt incense at the stone in the middle of the fishing-village, in +order to find out what day would be most lucky to go fishing, and +had found that according to the stone the twenty-second day of the +month would be the most lucky day. He had therefore gone fishing on +the twenty-second, and he had come back sulky, having caught almost +nothing. Then Quang Po's niece had actually laughed at the ill-fortune +of her uncle, and had openly expressed her unbelief in the +village stone! Quang Po had been very angry for many days, but there +came a time when Quang Po's niece induced him to go with her to the +little mission school on the hill-side, and there Quang Po heard +that for which his soul thirsted. He saw the picture of the +Crucified. He understood the story, and he, like his niece, lost +faith in the village stone and in the incense-shelves. Quang Po +yielded his will and his life to Christ, and the Christian religion +seemed strange to him no longer. + +So, when this Chinaman handed back the drawing to Jo, Quang Po +smiled and said the kindest thing he could think of, although the +drawing did not accord with his Chinese ideas of art. + +"You draw like Melican," said Quang Po, winding his queue about his +head, and preparing to return to work. + +Jo felt somewhat ashamed. He wished that he and the other boys had +not cut the sinkers off Quang Po's big net. Perhaps Quang Po did not +know that Jo had taken part in that mischief, but the thought of it +made Jo uncomfortable. So did the remembrance that he and the other +boys had slyly at night cut the line that held the flounders high in +air above the village street. The flounders now were safely +stretched aloft again, but the last time Jo remembered seeing them +they were lying in the dust. Jo was not an ill-natured lad, but he +had not objected to helping do the mischief. And now Quang Po had +spoken kindly of Jo's drawing! Jo winced a little. He was rather +proud of his ability as an artist, himself. He turned his attention, +to the flaming yellow pair of trousers worn by a small Chinese boy +among the numerous Chinese children in the street below. The +brilliant color made the little fellow most conspicuous as he +toddled here and there. In watching him, Jo tried to forget his own +self-reproach. + +So far did he succeed in forgetting it that, that evening, when +Louis Rouse, one of the other boys whose parents were staying at the +resort during the summer vacation, proposed going over to the +Chinese village, Jo did not object, though he knew that the purpose +of going was to have some "fun," as Louis called it. + +"Was the line of flounders up?" asked Louis gleefully, as the boys +went over the fields in the dusk. "Let's cut it again! And, say, +let's just tip over one of those frames for drying fish in the field +back of the village. We can do it carefully, so they won't hear." + +Chuckling softly and speaking in whispers only, the boys crept about +the fishing-village and did the mischief planned. They pretended +that the Chinese village was a fort of enemies, and the boys were a +band of soldiers reconnoitering in the dark. They became quite +excited over the idea. Doing mischief seemed so much more glorious +than it would if they had allowed themselves to think that they were +really American boys doing a contemptible thing to quiet, peaceable +people. + +Just as the boys had quietly tipped over one of the fish-frames, +letting the partially dried fish slide to the ground, there were +shouts in the dark of the Chinese village. + +"The enemy's coming, boys!" whispered Louis, and the lads rushed for +the fence. + +Some boys caught their feet in the big, spread-out net, and fell, +and rolled over, shaking with laughter. Others stuck between the +barbed wires of the fence, but all were outside, running across the +fields, before the Chinese had sallied out toward their frames. Some +distance from the fishing village, the boys dropped breathless +behind the large rocks near the sea, and laughed softly together. Jo +laughed with the others, though he said, "I sha'n't dare go near the +village for a week, till my hand gets well. The barbed wire gave me +some pretty deep scratches on the back of one hand, and the Chinamen +might guess how I got the marks." + +"I've got one on my forehead, I guess," answered Louis, laughing. +"It feels so, anyway, and I guess it's bleeding." + +The boys went home. Jo was silent on the way. + +"I'm tired, laughing so much," he explained to the rest. + +He could not help remembering how kind Quang Po's voice had sounded +when he said, "You draw like Melican." + +During the next week Jo stayed away from the fishing village. The +scratches on his hand and on his cheek were all too plainly visible. +He occupied his vacation-time in rambling in other places besides +the Chinese village. + +One morning, in his rambles, he went to what had once been an old +adobe dwelling. It was on a hill, quite a distance outside the town, +and was not often visited by any one. The old adobe had long ago +lost its tile roof, some of the walls had fallen, its former Spanish +inhabitants had long since disappeared, and quick-motioned, small +lizards now and then ran over the thick, ruined walls that stood, +dark and crumbling, against the light-brown of the wild oats on the +hill. + +Jo climbed on top of one of the higher adobe walls. It still +retained its Spanish thickness, being about five feet through, +although crumbling at the sides and somewhat uncertain as to +uprightness. + +"Must have taken a lot of clay to make it," thought Jo. + +Just then a little lizard, that had been sunning itself in a niche +in the adobe wall, started, disturbed by Jo's proximity, and ran +swiftly over to another part of the wall. Jo was anxious to see +where the creature went. The boy jumped over a broken place in the +wall, and walked on its top, regardless of the fact that the adobe +was trembling. + +"Guess it's gone where I can't see it," said Jo to himself. "This is +a nice sunny place for a lizard. I--" + +Jo had stepped a little too far. There was a sudden trembling of the +wall. Jo caught at the adobe, which came away in handfuls, and he +fell with a large portion of the old wall. + +The next thing he knew, he was lying, choked with dust, on what was +once the floor of the old Spanish dwelling. He was overtopped by a +heavy pile of debris, from under which he struggled in vain to +extricate himself. He had one free hand, with which, when he found +that other exertions did not avail, he tried to dig himself out; but +the more he dug, the more the great pile of adobe above him slid +down on his face, till he was in such imminent danger of being +smothered that he was forced to desist. + +It was almost all he could do to breathe with such a weight upon +him, but after a few moments' rest he tried to shout for help. His +shouts were not very loud, and soon he had to stop. He lay breathing +heavily and looking up at the pile of dull earth. + +"I wish," he panted, "I hadn't--come here." + +He fervently hoped that some sight-seer like himself might be +attracted to the old, out-of-the-way adobe, for Jo was now convinced +that it was impossible for him to set himself free. He tried again +and again, but always with the same result of semi-suffocation under +the sliding debris. + +The forenoon passed away. The sun, mounting higher, shone over the +dilapidated walls, and fell full on Jo's face. He shielded his eyes +with his free hand. The sun beat heavily on his head. Sometimes he +thought he heard a rustle in the wild oats, and he cried out for +help, but he afterward concluded the sound had been made by the wind +or by some lizard. + +Gradually the shade began to lengthen in the adobe. Jo looked +wistfully at the shadow of the wall as it stretched a little farther +toward him, and he sighed with relief when at length the sun that +had made his head so hot was guarded from his face by the shadow +that reached him. He had lain here a number of hours, and now, as he +began to think about evening, he wondered what his father and mother +would do when he did not come home. If they had not worried about +him during the day, they would be alarmed at night. + +"There are some coyotes around the neighborhood," thought Jo. + +He knew that a number of poultry-yards had suffered from coyotes. Jo +did not suppose that a coyote would usually attack a person. +Chickens, lambs, young pigs, were a coyote's prey, but in Jo's +present situation he did not care to be visited by a coyote. + +"I could throw clods at him," thought Jo. "I hope that would scare +him away." + +As the sun sank, Jo shouted repeatedly, till his breath was gone. He +hoped that some laborer might take his homeward way across the +unfrequented hill. But the prospect of such relief seemed very +slight, so unused was this place to visitors. Jo saw a wild bird fly +far overhead in the glow of the evening sky. The bird could go home, +but he could not. He could only wait--how long? + +After a while, there was the sound of clumsy feet that jolted by the +adobe. Jo heard. + +"Come here!" he cried with all his strength. "Come here! Come here!" + +The clumsy feet stopped. There was a creaking sound, as of baskets +swung to the ground. A face peered through a break in the wall, and +Quang Po climbed into the adobe. + +"Ho'lah!" he said. + +"Ho'lah!" faintly responded Jo. + +Quang Po wasted no more words, but set to work. He had not much to +dig with, save his tough, yellow hands and a stick, but after nearly +an hour's exertion, he released Jo. + +"You' bones bloke?" asked Quang anxiously. + +"No," responded Jo, wincing. "My arm hurts, but I guess it's only a +sprain." + +"Me cally fish to lady," explained Quang. "Me go closs hill to +lady's house. Hear you holler." + +Jo tried to stand, but found himself dizzy and faint, and Quang Po, +leaving his baskets, went home with the lad. + +Next day, Quang Po, going his rounds, was carrying his fish-baskets +past Jo's house. Jo, sitting on the steps, his arm in a bandage, +made a sign to Quang to stop. + +"My mother wants to buy some fish of you," Jo said. + +The fish were bought, and Quang was thanked by Jo's mother for +helping her boy. Quang went back to his baskets again, but Jo +followed. + +"Quang Po," he said, choking a little, "you very good to me." + +Quang Po smiled. + +"Quang," confessed Jo, "I helped the other boys cut the sinkers from +your big net, once." + +Quang nodded. + +"Me sabe," (understand) he answered, "me sabe long time ago." + +"I helped the other boys cut the line that held up your flounders," +faltered Jo. "I helped tip over the fish-frame." + +Quang Po nodded. + +"Me t'ink so," he said. + +"What for you good to me?" demanded Jo. + +"Me Clistian," responded Quang Po with gravity, as if that one word +explained everything. "Clistian must do lite." + +Jo looked at him. Quang lifted his heavy baskets on his pole. + +"Goo' by," he said. + +"Say--Quang Po," burst out Jo, "I'm sorry! I won't bother you any +more! I won't let the other boys do it, either! I can stop it." + +Quang Po smiled. + +"Me glad you solly," he said. "We be good flends, now." And he +trotted away, the heavy baskets creaking. + +Jo looked after him. + +"And I thought you were the heathen!" he whispered. + + + + +THE NEW IGLOO. + + +The sky was lowering. The small storm-"igloo," or round-topped snow +house, was full of Eskimo dogs that had crowded in to shelter +themselves from the bitter wind. This small igloo was built in front +of the door of a bigger round igloo in which an Eskimo family lived. +The dogs' small igloo was built where it was, to keep the wind and +the cold from coming in at the family's igloo door. + +Over the snowy ground a boy, clad in a reindeer coat, came running. +His brown cheeks were flushed, and his black eyes were bright with +excitement. His lips curved and parted over his white teeth as he +chuckled happily to himself about something. He rushed to the very +low door of his home, dropped down on his hands and knees, put some +slender thing between his teeth, pulled the hood of the reindeer +coat up over his head so as to keep the snow from slipping down the +back of his neck, and then scrambled quickly through the low +opening, pushing aside the dogs, till he reached the interior of the +larger igloo. Then the boy jumped up and snatched the thing he had +held in his mouth. + +"Oh, see, see!" he cried, holding up his treasure. "See what the +teacher gave me!" + +What he held was the half of a lead pencil, a rarity to him, given +to him now as a prize at school. + +"And see!" cried the excited lad once more. + +He pulled from his reindeer coat a piece of paper. The paper was +part of his prize, too. He made some rude marks on the paper with +his pencil, and held them where they were visible by the light of +the small stone lamp, shaped like a huge clam shell, and burning +with walrus oil. The lad's face was illumined with enthusiasm. Never +before had he owned such treasures. To think they were his own! He +had earned them by good behavior, and diligent, though extremely +slow, attempts at learning. A sarcastic laugh came from one side of +the platform of snow, that was built around the whole circular +interior of the igloo. On the platform lounged the lad's brother, +Tanana. "You went without your breakfast yesterday, and ran to +school, and now you come back with those things!" laughed Tanana. +"You are a dog of the teacher's team, Anvik! He can drive you." + +Anvik's black eyes snapped. + +"He does not drive me!" cried the boy. "He teaches me to want to +learn! I have gone to school many days. I want to learn, to learn! I +can make A and B. See!" + +He pushed his paper with its awkwardly formed letters farther into +the lamp's light. The edge of the precious paper took fire, and with +a cry of alarm, Anvik smothered his paper in the snow. + +His brother laughed again. + +"To-morrow will be another day," he said. "Why should anybody learn +for to-morrow?" + +But the mother of the two lads stretched out her hand, and took the +paper, and looked at the straggling marks. The fat baby, that she +carried in the hood of her reindeer suit, crowed over her shoulder +at the piece of paper, and Anvik forgot to be angry. He put his +pencil in his mother's hand. She looked curiously at the strange new +thing. + +"You make A, too, mother," urged the boy; and, putting his hand on +his mother's, he tried to show her how to make the strange marks. + +His mother did little more than touch the paper with the pencil. She +smiled at the tiny dark line she had made, and gave back the pencil +and paper to the boy. She was proud of him, proud that the strange +white man should have thought her boy good enough to give him such +queer things. Anvik saw her pride, and felt comforted. + +"To-morrow will be another day," murmured Tanana from his lounging +place. "The teacher is wrong. He makes that loud sound when school +begins. The wise man says the teacher must not make that sound any +more, for it will prevent our people from catching foxes and seals." + +"It is the school-bell," answered Anvik, knowing that the Eskimo +sorcerer had gone to the teacher but a few days previous, to +prophesy evil concerning the ringing of the bell. "The foxes and the +seals care not for it. Go to school with me, Tanana, to-morrow. The +teacher wants you." + +Tanana did not answer. He drew a bottle from out of his skin suit +and drank. Anvik looked at his mother. The odor of the liquor spread +through the small round house. Anvik had not noticed the odor when +he came in, being then too excited over his prize to have room in +his head for any other idea. But now he felt a great sadness of +soul. Tanana and their father were both beginning to learn to drink. +The sailors who came to the shore had liquor with them sometimes, +and traded it to the natives. + +The teacher at school had told the boys never to touch the sailors' +liquor. The teacher said it would steal the boys' souls. Anvik did +not understand that very well, but he knew liquor made Tanana and +their father cross and lazy, and the laziness kept them poor, and +the mother was sad. + +Anvik lay long awake that night, on the raised platform of snow in +the igloo, and thought. + +"My teacher said he heard that at one Eskimo village a canoe came +with whisky and the Eskimos pounded on a drum all night, and +shouted," thought the lad. "When the morning came, the people were +ashamed to look in the face of their teacher. My teacher said I must +pray the dear Lord Christ to save Tanana and my father from +drinking." + +And Anvik prayed in the dark igloo. + +The next day came, and Anvik went again to school, but Tanana and +the father went off to look at the ice-traps wherein Eskimos catch +any stray wolves or foxes. + +When Anvik came back at night to the igloo, he met his father and +Tanana rejoicing over a bear cub that they had killed. They were +bringing it home with them, and were laughing, and shouting, and +singing, not so much from joy as from drinking together from the +bottle that Tanana had procured. + +"We have a bear cub, a bear cub!" shouted Tanana in maudlin tones to +his brother. "See how strong the hot water we drink makes us! We +come home with a bear cub! Hot water, let us drink hot water!" + +Now by "hot water" Tanana meant of course the liquor in his bottle, +and when Anvik saw the young bear and the condition his father and +brother were in, the lad immediately became very anxious, for the +Eskimos are usually very careful not to kill a young bear without +having first killed its mother. It is considered a very rash thing +to kill the cub first, and when men who are pressed by hunger do it, +they are obliged to exercise the strictest precaution lest they +should be attacked by the mother-bear, for she will surely follow on +the track of the men. + +So the Eskimos usually go in a straight line for about five or six +miles, and then suddenly turn off at a right angle, so that the +mother-bear, as she presses eagerly forward, may overrun the +hunters' track and lose her way. The men go on a distance, and then +turn as before. + +After doing this several times, the men dare to go home, but even +there weapons are placed ready for use by the bedside, and outside +the house sledges are put up right, for the bear is always +suspicious of the erect sledge, and she will knock it dawn before +she will attack the igloo. The knocking down of the sledge makes a +noise that gives warning to the family. + +But when Anvik saw the condition that his father and brother were +in, he was greatly frightened, for he did not believe that the +liquor had left enough sense in their minds so that they had +remembered to turn off in the homeward journey, and, if they had +come home without covering their track, there could be no doubt that +the mother bear would come to attack the igloo that very night. + +But it would do no good to say anything to Tanana and his father. +They were far too much under the influence of what they had been +drinking. Anvik told his mother his suspicions. + +"We will set up the sledge outside the igloo," said his mother, +trembling. + +"I will have my harpoon ready," answered Anvik bravely. "Do not +fear, mother. Perhaps the bear will not come." + +They put two harpoons and a spear beside the raised platform of snow +in the igloo, after the father and older son were stupidly sleeping. + +Then came an anxious time of waiting. The stone lamp's light grew +more and more dim to Anvik's drowsy eyes, as he, too, lay on one +side of the circular platform. Nothing disturbed his father and +brother in their heavy, liquor-made sleep. Anvik's eyes closed at +last, even while he was determined to keep awake. His mother, tired +with scraping and pounding skins, nestled her chubby baby in her +neck, and dropped asleep; too, after long watching. The igloo was +quiet, except for the heavy breathing. + +A terrible noise arose outdoors. Anvik started into consciousness. +There was an uproar of dogs, awakened by the destroying of their +small igloo. The sledge fell. The family igloo seemed to shake +throughout the entire circle of hard snow blocks. The dome-shaped +hut quaked under the attack of some foe. + +"Father! Father, wake up!" screamed Anvik, springing to his feet. +"The bear! The bear has come! Father! Tanana!" + +He rushed to their side and shook them, but he could not rouse them. + +"Wake up! Wake up!" screamed Anvik. + +His mother caught one harpoon. Anvik seized another. The great paws +were digging into the igloo! The dogs had attacked the bear, but she +fought them off, killing some with the powerful blows of her claws. + +"Be ready, Anvik!" warned his mother. + +The side of the igloo gave way! A dreadful struggle followed. There +was a chorus of barks and growls and screams. The bear fought +desperately. The struggle and the falling snow partially wakened the +father and son, but they were stupidly useless. The dogs attacked +the bear's back. Anvik, watching his chance while the bear was +repelling the dogs, drove a harpoon into the animal. The bear +savagely thrust at the lad, but the dogs leaped up and Anvik's +mother drove her harpoon into the enemy. As well as he could in the +darkness, Anvik chose his opportunity, and as he had seen older +Eskimos do, skillfully avoided the attacks the bear strove to make +upon him, till at last he managed to drive the sharp spear to the +animal's heart. + +All was over at last. The shrieks, the growls ceased, and the dead +bear lay among the ruins of the igloo. + +The next day Anvik stayed away from school to help build a new +igloo. His father and Tanana did not talk much, from the time when +they laid the blocks of extremely hard snow in a circle till the +time when the inwardly-slanting snow walls had risen to the topmost +horizontal block that joined the walls. But, once during the +building, when the three workers had taken great flat shovels, made +of strips of bone lashed together, and were throwing loose snow +against the sides of the new igloo to protect its future inhabitants +from the cold, the father stopped, and turning to Tanana said: + +"My heart is ashamed! The hot water made us forget to hide the way +to the igloo, and when the bear came to kill my wife and children, +the hot water made us sleep. My heart is ashamed." + +And Tanana, keenly humiliated that his younger brother and not +himself had killed the bear, answered, "My heart is ashamed, also." + +"The hot water bottle shall not come to my mouth again," resolved +the father, with determination. + +And Tanana promised the same. The bottle had been broken in the +scuffle, but Tanana knew his father's and his own promise included +any other bottle of liquor. + +"You shall go to the teacher's school with Anvik," decided the +father. "The teacher speaks well when he tells the boys that the hot +water will steal their souls. If Anvik had drank it, we should all +have been killed." + +Anvik jumped up from chinking a crack between two snow blocks. He +remembered his prayer, and he laughed aloud now with joy for the +answer. + +"The new igloo is better than the old!" he cried. "The hot water +will never go in at the door of our new igloo!" + +And in his heart the boy added, "May the dear Lord Christ come into +our new home!" + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Triangle, by Mary E. Bamford + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE TRIANGLE *** + +***** This file should be named 3660.txt or 3660.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/6/3660/ + +Produced by Ralph Zimmermann, Charles Franks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by Ralph Zimmermann, Charles Franks and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +OUT OF THE TRIANGLE. + + +A STORY OF THE FAR EAST. + + + + +BY MARY E. BAMFORD. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +A voice rang through one of the streets of Alexandria. + +"Sinners, away, or keep your eyes to the ground! Keep your eyes to +the ground!" + +The white-robed priestesses of Ceres, carrying a sacred basket, +walked in procession through the Alexandrian street, and as they +walked they cried aloud their warning. + +So, for four centuries, since the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, had +priestesses of Ceres walked and called aloud their admonitions +through this city; though of late years men had come to know that +what the sacred basket held was a live snake, supposed to be the +author of sin and death. + +Before the great temple of Ceres in the southeast quarter of the +city, the crier stood on the steps of the portico, and proclaimed +his invitation: "All ye who are clean of hands and pure of heart, +come to the sacrifice! All ye who are guiltless in thought and deed, +come to the sacrifice!" + +Among the passing people, the lad Heraklas shrank back. When the +sacred basket of Ceres had met him, he had bent his eyes downward, +deeming himself unworthy of the sight. And now, as the crier's +invitation rang from the portico, "All ye who are guiltless in +thought and deed, come to the sacrifice!" Heraklas trembled. + +Swiftly he hurried away and passed down the broad street that led to +the Gate of the Moon on the south of Alexandria. + +At length he reached the gate, but swiftly yet he pushed forward a +short distance along the vineyard-fringed banks of Lake Mareotis. +Heraklas lifted up his eyes, and marked how the vines by the lake's +side contrasted with the burning whiteness of the desert beyond. The +glaring sand shimmered in the heat of the flaming Egyptian sun. A +thin, vapory mist seemed to move above the heated, barren surface of +the grim sea of sand. Heraklas stretched out his hands in agony +toward the desert, and cried aloud, "O my brother, my brother +Timokles! How shall I live without thee?" + +The soft ripple of the lake beside him seemed like mockery. The +tears rolled slowly down his cheeks, as he looked toward the +pitilessly unresponsive desert of the west and southwest. Then +Heraklas, helpless in his misery, raised his hands with the palms +outward before him, after the custom of an Egyptian in prayer, and +addressed him whom the Egyptians thought the maker of the sun, the +god Phthah, "the father of the beginnings," "the first of the gods +of the upper world." + +"Hail to thee, O Ptahtanen," began Heraklas, "great god who +concealeth his form, . . thou art watching when at rest; the father +of all fathers and of all gods. . . Watcher, who traversest the +endless ages of eternity." + +The familiar words brought no comfort. Between him and the +shimmering desert came the memory of his brother's face, and +Heraklas forgot Ptahtanen, and cried out again in desperation. + +His eyes strained toward the desert. Somewhere in its depths, his +twin brother Timokles, the being whom of all on earth Heraklas most +loved, lived,--or perhaps, in the brief week that had elapsed since +he was snatched from his Alexandrian home, had died. Timokles had +forsaken the gods of his own family, the gods his own dead father +had adored, Egypt's gods. The lad would not even worship the gods of +Rome. Timokles had become one of the Christians, and had, in +consequence, been falsely accused of having, during a former +inundation, cut one of the dykes near the Nile. This offense, in the +days of Roman rule, was punishable by condemnation to labor in the +mines, or by branding and transportation to an oasis of the desert. + +Timokles, innocent of the crime charged upon him,--having been at +home in Alexandria during the time when he was accused of having +been abroad on the evil errand,--was dragged away to exile, for was +he not a Christian? Living or dead, the desert held him. The Roman +emperor, Septimius Severus, who ruled Egypt, had lately issued an +edict that no one should become a Christian. What hope was there for +Timokles? + +"He will never come back!" said Heraklas now, with a low sob, as the +desert swam before his tear-filled eyes. "O Timokles!" + +There was a rustle among the leaves not far away. Heraklas turned +hastily. + +But it was no person who disturbed his solitude. Heraklas saw only +the head of an ibis, called "Hac" or "Hib" by the Egyptians, and the +lad, mindful of the honor due the bird as sacred to the god Thoth, +the Egyptian deity of letters and of the moon, made a gesture of +semi-reverence. He remembered what the Egyptians were wont to say, +when on the nineteenth day of the first month, they ate honey and +eggs in honor of Thoth: "How sweet a thing is truth!" + +Heraklas murmured with a heavy sigh, "Timokles told me he had found +'the truth' O Timokles, is thy 'truth' sweet to thee now? Oh, my +brother, my brother!" + +Heraklas cast himself down among the vines, and wept his unavailing +tears. Little did the lad, reared in a pagan home, know of the +sweetness of the Christian faith, for which Timokles had forsaken +all. + +Heraklas' small sister, the child Cocce, sat on the pavement in the +central court of her home in Alexandria. Above her towered three +palms that shaded the court. Beside the little girl was an Egyptian +toy, the figure of a man kneading dough. The man would work, if a +string were pulled, but Cocce had thrown the toy aside. Lower and +lower sank the small, brown head, more and more sleepily closed the +large, brown eyes, till the child drooped against a stone table that +was supported by the stone figure of a captive, bending beneath the +weight of the table's top. + +As Heraklas entered the court his eyes fell upon his sleeping little +sister, but he noted more closely the stone captive against which +she leaned. Heraklas marked how the captive was represented to bend +beneath the table's weight. The boy's eyes grew fierce. Captivity +seemed a cruel thing, since Timokles had gone into it. + +Heraklas flung himself on a seat covered by a leopard's skin, and +gazed moodily upward at the palm-leaves, one or two of which stirred +faintly under the slight wind that came from a corridor, whither the +wooden wind-sails,--sloping boards commonly fixed over the terraces +of the upper portions of Egyptian houses,--had conducted the current +of air. + +Borne from the streets of Alexandria, there seemed to Heraklas to +come certain new, half-heard noises. He listened, yet nothing +definite reached his ears. + +At length, seeing through a range of pillars a slave moving in the +distance, Heraklas summoned the man, and asked what was the cause of +the faintly-heard sounds. + +"The people destroy the possessions of some of the Christians," +humbly replied the slave, whose name was Athribis; and Heraklas, +stung to the quick by the answer, impatiently motioned the man away. + +Left alone, Heraklas lifted his head proudly. He would ignore the +pain. What had he to do with the Christians? He, who had watched his +consecration-night in the temple of Isis; he, who had caught some +sight of the Mysteries sacred to that goddess; he, who had worn the +harsh linen robe and those symbolic robes in which a novice watches +his dream-indicated night--what had he to do with Christians? Would +that Timokles had observed the emperor's command that no one should +become a Christian! Heraklas groaned. + +The dismissed man-slave, Athribis, looked cautiously back through +the pillars, and smiled. None knew better than he how any reference +to the Christians stabbed the hearts of this family. Athribis +himself hated the Christians. He longed to be out in Alexandria's +streets this moment, that he, too, might be at liberty to pillage +the Christians' houses. Who knew what jewels he might find? And he +must stay here, polishing a corridor's pavement, when such things, +were being done in the streets! His dark eyes glanced back again. +Heraklas' head was bowed. + +Stealthily Athribis passed out of sight of the court. He threaded +his way through corridors. + +"Whither goest thou?" asked another slave by the threshold. + +"I go to the market to get some lentiles," glibly replied Athribis; +and, passing, he quickly gained the portal and the street. + +"One, may find that which is better than lentiles," Athribis +communed with himself, as he wound hither and thither through the +excited crowds. "Should a Christian have jewels, and I none? I, who +am faithful to the gods!" + +With this the slave plunged into a company of house-breakers, and +with them boldly attacked the dwelling of a Christian. It was easily +taken, and Athribis rushed with the company into the interior. +Stools and couches were wrenched to pieces, cushions were torn, +tables were overthrown. + +"Woe to the Christians of Alexandria!" fiercely muttered one man. +"We will root them from our city! They shall die!" + +The crude brick of the building gave way, in places, under repeated +blows. The stucco of the outer walls fell off, and was tracked with +the crushed brick into the halls. Some of the rude company, rushing +to the flat roof of the building, discovered there, hidden by a +wind-sail, a treasure-box, as was at first supposed. On being +hastily opened, however, the box was found to hold nothing but some +rolls of writing. Contemptuously the box was kicked aside. + +"Come down! Come down!" cried voices from the court. "Here are the +Christians!" + +The loud clamor from below announced that the Christian family had +indeed been discovered, and would be taken to prison. + +The company on the roof made haste to descend, to witness the +family's humiliating exit. As Athribis passed by the box again, he +looked more curiously at it. Surely the scrolls must be of some +worth. He could not read, but perhaps something of value might be +secretly hidden inside each of these scrolls. Who knew? It must be! +It seemed incredible that even Christians would be foolish enough to +fill a treasure-box with nothing but rolls of writing, and then +conceal the box so carefully behind this wind-sail! + +Athribis purposely lingered a little behind the other men. He +snatched up the rolls, and having hidden them in his garment, +hurried from the roof. + +"I am a Christian," calmly said a voice in the court. "Yea, I have +striven to bring others to Christ." + +There stood the father of the household, his wife, and their two +children, one a girl of thirteen, the other a boy a little younger. +They had broken the emperor's decree. The father did not deny the +charge brought against them. It was his voice that Athribis had +heard, and the same voice spoke on: + +"My children," continued the father, "our days on earth come to a +close. Let us sing our twilight hymn, for now indeed our work is +nearly done." + +Above the scornful tumult rose the four voices, singing the +"Twilight," or "Candle Hymn," of the early Christians. The +children's tones trembled a little at first, but soon grew firm, as +if sustained by the calmness with which the parents sang. The angry +faces around the court became yet more fierce with hatred, as, +through a moment's pause, the rioters listened to the words of the +hymn: + +"Calm Light of the celestial glory, O Jesus Son of the Eternal +Father, We come to thee now as the sun goes down, And before the +evening light We seek thee, Father, Son And Holy Spirit of God. Thou +art worthy to be forever praised by holy voices, O Son of God; thou +givest life to us, And therefore doth the world glorify thee." + +Mocking cries arose from the mob. Not daring to linger longer, +Athribis ran out of the house, and hastened homeward, full of +apprehension as to what might await him. + +"Where are the lentiles?" asked the slave by the threshold, as +Athribis, forgetful, in his excitement, of the excuse he had made +for his departure, passed swiftly and softly in. + +"I found none," quickly answered Athribis, with alarm. + +He sped silently to his former place of work, and fell to polishing +the pavement with a zeal unknown before. He knew well enough that +the slave by the threshold would not believe in that excuse, +lentiles being plentiful enough. Terror had robbed Athribis' +deceitful tongue of its usual cunning, and now he silently bewailed +his startled answer. If the slave by the threshold should report to +Heraklas' mother the fact that Athribis had been away! + +Athribis longed to have time to unroll the scrolls which he had +hidden in his garment, but he dared not look at them till he should +be alone. + +A voice sounded in the court. Athribis redoubled his zeal: He +recognized the tones of Heraklas' mother. + +"I was not long gone! I was not long gone!" the guilty Athribis +hastily assured himself. "Surely she hath hated the Christians, even +as I hate them! I was gone but a moment! Surely she cannot know! If +I find treasure in my rolls, I will give some to the slave by the +threshold. Surely, treasure is as dumbness to a man!" + +The footsteps of the mother of Heraklas drew near. The servant bowed +over his work, and dared not lift his eyes. She did not stop! And +Athribis looked breathlessly after the woman, as she passed +majestically on. + +"Surely she hath not known what I did!" he gasped as the stately +figure disappeared among the columns. "Isis preserveth me from +stripes! My feet are unbeaten!" + +Athribis waited till night, when the household slept. Then he crept +out of the little chamber on the roof where the slaves were wont to +sleep, according to the custom of Egyptian households. + +A dim thread of a moon floated toward the west. Athribis crept to a +far part of the roof. The wind blew somewhat, but it did not cool +the fever of excitement felt by him. Within a moment he might be +rich! He might find gold in these scrolls! + +He drew out the scrolls. Surely there was something firm inside this +one! He felt something! He narrowly scanned the Christians' papyrus, +as he hastily unrolled it. His lips were parted with eagerness, his +breath panted into the heart of the scroll, as he held his face down +that he might see. He unrolled the papyrus to the end. He sat up, +and drew a breath. His bare feet kicked viciously at the unrolled +papyrus. No treasure in that first scroll! He seized the second. +With eagerness all the greater because of his former disappointment, +he searched through this roll, his face bent down till his eyelashes +almost swept the surface of the writing. In vain! There was nothing! + +"These Christians! What cheats they are!" + +He snatched the third roll. With trembling fingers he unrolled this, +the last of the papyrus scrolls. There must be something hidden! It +could not be possible that he would be disappointed in the last +scroll! Was there no treasure? Not a thin wedge of gold at the heart +of this papyrus? Not a jewel, not anything that savored of riches? + +Athribis' shaking fingers unrolled the papyrus to its very end. +Nothing but the continuous writing, and the stick on which the +scroll had been rolled! His limp hand let fall the end of the +papyrus. It descended upon the heap at his feet. Had he dared, he +would have cried aloud in his disappointment. + +But it was not his voice that pierced the night. Some one had seen +him! + +"A robber!" cried a woman's tones. "A thief! On the roof!" + +Athribis leaped to his feet. He caught the papyri. Alas, alas! they +were not rolled, now! The wind tossed the long streamers, and as +Athribis in fearful haste snatched them, the breeze blew one scroll +entirely free. It, swept from the roof, and, descending into the +court, hung in a long strip from one of the palms. + +The dismayed Athribis cast the other papyri on the roof, and fled. +It was time. The house was being aroused by the cry of the woman. +With his bare, silent feet, Athribis sped through the shadows of the +corridors to what he thought a secret spot, and hid himself. The +house resounded with outcries. Feet ran hither and thither. + +Out in the court, hanging all unseen from a palm-tree, swayed the +papyrus, the written copy of part of the Sacred Book of the +Christians! + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +It was night on the Libyan desert. The stars glittered on the rocky +highlands that compose so much of that desert, and lit faintly, too, +the areas between, where stretches of sand waited to be shifted by +the next simoon that should blow. + +In one spot, at the edge of a rock, there was a movement of the +sand. Out of it a form slowly rose. + +The sand shook near by, and another person appeared. Another arose, +and another, till five had arisen. + +The man who had first appeared spoke, slowly, in a voice that told +of exhaustion. + +"The Emperor Septimius Severus reigneth over our land," he said. "He +hath forbidden that any one should become a Christian. But how shall +we cease to tell men of Christ? How shall he cease to draw men to +himself?" + +"Severus hath not been always thus," answered another voice, faint +with weakness. "Proculus, the Christian, once saved the life of +either Severus or his child, and the emperor took Proculus into the +palace and treated him kindly, and chose a Christian nurse for +Severus' boy, Caracalla. When the Romans rose against the +Christians, Severus shielded our brethren. Oh, that the priests of +the false gods of Egypt had not enticed our emperor!" + +"Alas for him!" responded the first voice. "The Emperor Severus +worshipeth the false gods of Egypt, but we serve the Lord Christ. +Farewell to Egypt's gods! They shall pass, but Thou shalt endure!" + +"Amen," murmured the lad Timokles. "Even so! Thou art Lord of lords, +and King of kings, O Christ!" + +Suddenly there was a cry of other voices. Up from the rocks of the +plateau behind the five there sprang a second group of persons. + +The five Christians, knowing the voices of their former heathen +captors, fled. The lad Timokles was closely pursued. He felt, rather +than heard, close behind him, the footsteps of his enemy, and, +turning sharply, Timokles sped away in another direction. + +Here and there, back and forth, the two ran in the star-lit +darkness. The five Christians were widely scattered now. Shouts and +cries came faintly from a distance. Timokles rushed toward the rocky +plateau. + +"Stop, Christian, stop!" cried his enemy, leaping forward with +outstretched hand. + +But Timokles fled, stumbling over stones. On came his enemy's swift +leap behind. A piercing cry, as of some one in agony, rang from the +desert's distance. Timokles sped faster. + +"Stop!" commanded the voice of the runner behind. "Stop!" + +A swift prayer burst from Timokles' lips. He fled on, his pursuer so +near sometimes that Timokles' heart failed him. + +"Stop!" screamed his foe. "Stop!" + +The fierce command pulsed through Timokles' brain. The man behind +suddenly slipped, stumbling over the stones. He fell heavily, and in +that instant's time, Timokles darted forward behind one of the +rocks, and, creeping underneath it, lay breathless in the darkness. + +The man struggled to his feet. Up past the other side of the rock +rushed the pursuer. Timokles, quaking, expected every instant to be +discovered. + +"Where art thou?" savagely called the man. "Where?" + +He ran hither and thither with fiercely muttered imprecations. Now +his footsteps sounded farther off, and now again he ran back and +came softly stealing around among the rocks. Timokles laid his +branded cheek against the gravel, and waited. + +The footsteps went, and came, and went again in the dark. Timokles +trembled from head to foot. He did not fear death, but he dreaded +capture and unknown terrors. + +The dark form passed by again. A chill went over Timokles, as he +thought he saw a weapon in the man's hand. + +The footsteps became inaudible once more. Timokles, waiting a long +time, imagined his foe might have gone. As the lad was about to lift +his head, a hand brushed along the side of his rock, and reached out +into the dark, underneath. Timokles was perfectly quiet. The hand +above him felt down the sides of the rock, waved in the darkness +above the boy, descended and rested an instant on the gravel next +him--but did not touch him. The silent menace of the groping hand +was terrible. Timokles held his breath. + +The hand passed on, feeling of other rocks. + +"O God of thy people, thou hast hidden me!" cried Timokles in his +heart, as he heard the soft rubbing of his enemy's hand against the +farther rocks. + +The sound died away. Timokles lay listening for a long time. Once he +thought he heard a creeping sound, but it was only the wind. + +Sleep came upon him at last, and when he woke it was day. He dared +not come out, but lay there through the torrid hours, moistening his +lips now and then with a little water from the small, skin water- +pouch he carried. + +The sun plunged beneath the horizon at last, with the usual seeming +suddenness observed in the desert. Night was welcome to Timokles, +and he came forth. The lad's heart was very lonely. He looked toward +the northeast, and remembered his Alexandrian home--his mother, the +brother with whom Timokles' whole life had been bound up, the little +sister Cocce, whom Timokles had last seen playing gleefully with a +toy crocodile, and laughing at its opening mouth. + +"O Severus!" whispered Timokles, "what didst thou see, when thou +visitedst Egypt five years ago, that thou shouldest decree such evil +against the Egyptian Christians now?" + +Softly Timokles went his way in the dark. He was hungry, yet he +dared eat little of the dried dates he had with him. When would he +find other food? + +For a time he looked warily around, but soon his sense of loneliness +overcame his fear, and he watched more for some sign of his four +friends than for an indication of an enemy. + +"Perhaps some Christian hath escaped, even as I have," thought +Timokles. + +He started. + +Outstretched before him lay a figure of a man! Timokles stood +motionless, till he perceived the man be to be asleep. Then the lad +bent over the sleeper to scan his face. But, as Timokles stooped, he +dimly saw, in the relaxed, open palm of the man's hand, a small +stone of the triangular form under which the Egyptians were wont to +worship Osiris, Isis, and Horus. Such are the stones found in the +tombs of the Egyptians. + +This was no Christian sleeper that lay at Timokles' feet! The lad +turned and fled into the distance. + +Through the desert there wailed a thin, plaintive cry. It was the +voice of a night-wandering jackal. + +Timokles was dizzy to faintness, and staggered as he was driven on. +He had been discovered and taken. His life had been spared that he +might henceforth be a slave. + +"I bear this for thy sake, O Lord, dear Lord!" murmured the +exhausted lad, as the blows drove him through the pathless desert. + +Again came the plaintive cry of the wandering jackal. + +"For thy sake!" faintly repeated Timokles. + +A few minutes passed, and once more the jackal's inarticulate voice +wailed through the desert, but Timokles had fallen, helpless. A man +sprang forward, and the lash fell again and again on Timokles' +prostrate body, but the boy did not stir. + +"Now see how the Christian would die in the desert, and cheat us of +all the work he might do!" grumbled the vexed voice of a dismounted +camel-rider. "He is young. There are many years of work in him!" + +"Leave him!" scornfully advised another, who held a torch. "Some +beast will find him." + +Nay, but he shall go with me to Carthage," asserted a third, from +the height of his camel's back. "Carthage knoweth what to do with +Christians!" + +"Who art thou that thou shouldest own the Christian?" demanded the +first, angrily gazing up at the presumptuous rider. "Did I not find +him?" + +The mounted camel-rider laughed, and tossed something toward the +irate speaker. The man caught the object, a ring of gold, containing +a scarabaeus. + +"Take it," said the giver to the appeased rival. "The Christian is +mine." + +The unconscious Timokles was taken up at a sign from the camel-rider +to one of his servants, and the cavalcade proceeded on its way. As +his camel paced forward, Pentaur, the purchaser, glanced back twice +or thrice. + +"Truly," he assured himself with much complacency, as he perceived +Timokles being carried, "I follow the maxim of Ptah-hotep: 'Treat +well thy people, as it behooveth thee; this is the duty of those +whom the gods favor.'" + +As Pentaur, for that moment, thought of the dread hour when, after +death, according to Egyptian belief, he should stand before the +judgment-seat of Osiris, the camel-rider felt convinced that he +would have merl which might stand him in good stead in that ordeal. + +Little by little, Timokles regained consciousness. He marveled to +find himself carried. He had expected to be killed where he fell. +The many painful welts of the lash's stripes stung him with keen +pain. + +"O mother! mother!" Timokles' heart cried silently. + +Had she indeed lost all love for him, since she had told him she +wished he had died rather than become a Christian? + +"Lord Christ," cried Timokles' breaking heart now, "I have left all +for thee!" + +The company pushed on rapidly. At length, after morning with its +heat had come, the party halted, and the slave who had carried +Timokles flung him on the sand, the slave comforting himself that +possibly the evil of the Christian's touch might be warded off by a +symbolic eye of Horus that the pagan wore tied to his arm by a +slender string. Such eyes were often used by Egyptians as amulets +and ornaments. + +When the hot hours of the day were past, the caravan again made, +ready to go on. The merchant, Pentaur, summoned Timokles, and with +condescending good-nature, demanded his history. Timokles told it. + +"Why shouldest thou be a Christian?" commented Pentaur. "See, we +come to-night to Ammonium the oasis. Every camel-step doth lead thee +farther toward Carthage! Thou wilt perish there! Carthage doth hate +Christians!" + +Timokles looked into Pentaur's eyes. + +"Yea, I know that Carthage hateth them," the lad answered. "I heard +that four years ago, when the proconsul Saturninus persecuted the +Christians; and when a number were brought from the little town of +Scillita to Carthage to appear before the tribunal of Saturnin, one +man called Speratus spoke frankly and nobly for his brethren. When +the proconsul Saturninus invited Speratus to swear by the genius of +the emperor, the proconsul promising the Christians mercy if they +would do this and return to the worship of the gods, Speratus +answered, 'I know of no genius of the ruler of this earth, but I +serve my God who is in heaven, whom no man hath seen nor can see. I +render what is due from me, for I acknowledge the emperor as my +sovereign; but I can worship none but my Lord, the King of all kings +and Ruler of all nations.' So were the Christians taken to the place +of execution, where they knelt and prayed, and were then beheaded." + +Timokles' eyes. fell. His voice trembled. + +"O Lord Christ," he added, reverently, "I also would be faithful +unto thee!" + +The merchant's piercing look regarded Timokles for a few minutes. + +"There were women among those twelve Christians who were brought +from Scillita to Carthage to die," continued Timokles, "three women, +called Donata, Secunda, and Vestina. When they were brought before +the proconsul, he said to them, 'Honor our prince, and offer +sacrifice to the gods.' Donata answered, 'We give to Caesar the +honor that is due Caesar: but we adore and offer sacrifice to God +alone.' Vestina, said, 'I also am a Christian.' Secunda said, 'I +also believe in my God, and will continue. faithful to him. As for +thy gods, we will neither serve nor adore them.' + +"O my master," continued Timokles, with trembling voice," thinkest +thou not that the God who so strengthened three women that they did +not shrink from death for his sake, could strengthen me to meet +death, also?" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Pentaur looked fixedly at the lad, who stood with no air of bravado +about him, but with an expression of humble trust that the merchant +could not fathom. + +"Why shouldest thou risk death?" questioned the merchant. "Death +will defeat a Christian." + +"Nay, O master!" exclaimed Timokles eagerly. "Death may be glorious +victory!" + +Pentaur smiled. + +"Oh!" broke forth Timokles earnestly, "I know a death that was a +glorious victory! Carthage knew of it! Didst thou not hear what was +done last year at Carthage? Didst thou not know of the Christian +lady, Vivia Perpetua, and the Christian slave, Felicitas?" + +A shudder ran through Pentaur, as Timokles continued: + +"Thinkest thou that what they suffered was nothing? Vivia Perpetua +was the best loved of a heathen father's children. How she suffered +in her heart, when her old father came to the prison and besought +her to give up Christ! 'Daughter,' begged the old man, 'have pity on +my gray hairs. Have compassion on thy father!' He wept at her feet. +He begged her to have pity on her little child. But she could not +give up Christ. Wert thou there, O Pentaur, when the governor +examined the prisoners? Didst thou see Vivia Perpetua's old father +press forward, carrying her babe in his arms, and beg her to recant +for the child's sake? Didst thou hear the judge ask her, 'Art thou +then a Christian?' and didst thou hear her answer, 'I am'?" + +Timokles paused. Pentaur had groaned. His face was hidden in his +hands. + +"And then," continued Timokles, "the wretched father, hearing his +daughter speak those words that doomed her to death, tried to draw +her from the platform. He was struck with a stick, and the judge +condemned Vivia Perpetua and Felicitas, with the other Christians, +to be exposed to the wild beasts." + +Another low groan broke from Pentaur. Timokles hesitated an instant, +then hurried on: + +"The Christians were to die in the amphitheatre of Carthage. At the +gate of the amphitheatre, the guards offered the men among the +Christians the red mantle of the priests of Saturn, and offered the +women the fillet worn by the priestesses of Ceres. But the +Christians refused. 'We have come here,' they said, 'of our own free +will, that we might not be deprived of our freedom. We have +forfeited our lives in order to be delivered from doing such +things.' Even the heathen could see the justice of this, and the +Christians were not compelled to wear the things. In the +amphitheatre, Vivia Perpetua and Felicitas were put into a net, and +allowed to be attacked by a wild cow. Then the two martyrs gave each +other the kiss of peace, and a gladiator killed them." + +Timokles paused once more. Still no response. + +"I remember hearing one thing more concerning Vivia Perpetua," +ventured Timokles. "In prison she had had a vision. She thought she +saw a golden ladder stretching up to heaven, and on either side of +the ladder were swords, and spears, and knives. At the foot of the +ladder lay a dragon. Perpetua thought in her vision that she was +commanded to mount the ladder. She set her foot on the dragon's +head, saying, 'He will not harm me, in the name of Jesus Christ,' +and went up the ladder. At the top she found a large garden, and the +Good Shepherd met her." + +Pentaur sprang to his feet, and put out a shaking hand. + +"No more!" he cried. "Oh, no more! No more! O Vivia, Vivia!" + +With a groan of anguish, Pentaur looked upward, as if behind the +desert's sky he might see again that youthful face, the face of that +sweet Christian with whom he had been acquainted from childhood and +whom he had last seen dying in Carthage's amphitheatre. Little did +Timokles know how the memory of Vivia Perpetua's death hour had +haunted Pentaur. They had been children together in Carthage, and +the martyrdom that Vivia Perpetua had suffered in her young +womanhood had impressed Pentaur more than all the agony he had seen +other Christians endure. When she gave up her life, he had clinched +his hands, and muttered fierce words against Carthage's gods, words +he afterward trembled to recall. He served those gods now, yet he +revered the memory of the Christian, Vivia Perpetua, as of one of +the holiest of women. + +Timokles ventured no further words. + +Pentaur summoned a slave, and committed to his care the young +Christian. The memory of Vivia Perpetua might pierce the merchant's +soul, but would not avail for Timokles' release. + +Bound to another slave to prevent escape, Timokles traveled with the +company that night, and before morning the oasis of Ammon, "Oasis +Ammonia," was reached. It was a green and shady valley, several +miles long and three broad, in the midst of sand-hills. Here, over +five hundred years before, had come the founder of Alexandria, +Alexander the Great, to visit the oracle of Ammon, the god figured +to be like a man having the head and horns of a ram. The statue of +Amun-Ra had then been loaded with jewels, through the reverence of +the merchants who halted their caravans at this oasis, and who left +their treasures in the strong rooms of the temple, while resting the +camels under the palm trees. + +All this Timokles remembered, as he stood beside the steaming +Fountain of the Sun in the oasis, and watched the bubbles that +constantly rose to the surface of that famous body of water. + +"O branded-cheeked cutter of dykes, art thou in very truth a +Christian?" contemptuously asked the slave that guarded Timokles. + +"I am, O friend," gently answered the lad. + +"Ill shalt thou fare in this oasis, then," threatened the slave. + +Timokles' eyes wandered over the landscape. The surface of the oasis +was undulating, and on the north it rose into high, limestone hills. +Date palms abounded near by Timokles. He could see the inhabitants +of the village, and the wanderers from farther, more isolated homes. +The oasis was composed of several disconnected tracts, and Timokles +heard that in the western part of the oasis there was a lake. + +Suddenly the lad became aware of a number of angrily excited voices. +At a short distance stood Pentaur the merchant, surrounded by a +group of men, but what he said was lost in the confusion of tongues. + +At length the merchant made a careless gesture, and walked away. + +"Take the Christian!" shouted fierce voices. + +A man ran straight from the group to Timokles. Without a word the +man seized the lad. Other hands assisted, and Timokles was hurried +away from the village, past palm trees and resting camels, toward +the north. Breathlessly the men dragged him a long distance over the +rising ground. No word of explanation was uttered. Timokles was +swept along, till at length the silent, determined company came to a +solitary, ruined building. + +Timokles was pulled over the fallen stones, across what had once +been the court of the dwelling. Then the company reached a spot +where part of the house was still standing. Here a barred door shut +off further progress, but two of the men with great effort opened +the entrance. + +All grasping hands fell from Timokles. The company waited. + +"Go in, O Christian," commanded, a man. "Others have gone before +thee!" + +Timokles looked fixedly forward. Before him was a hall-way, leading +into the portion of the dwelling-house yet remaining. + +Timokles stepped forward. Eager hands pushed him quickly into the +hall and shut the door behind him. He heard the sound of bars that +fastened the door securely at his back. He was alone. What building +was this? + +He felt here and there in the dark hall. A peculiar odor floated in +the heavy air. Timokles hesitated, fearing he knew not what. His +eyes could not pierce the deep gloom. + +Resolving to see whither the hall led, he groped on, wondering if +this were the place in which the inhabitants of the oasis were wont +to confine prisoners. He came to a door. It opened readily to his +touch, and he passed into what had once been a large dwelling-room. +He stepped softly forward, noting the emptiness and desolation of +the place. The peculiar odor of the air was more noticeable than +before, but it was not till he had reached the middle of the +darkened room, and stood gazing about him, that he perceived at the +farther end, in the shadows, a space of yellowish fawn color, and +then saw manifold dark spots, also, that shaped themselves into a +large, living form. + +Timokles drew one quick breath. He softly retreated. Keeping his +eyes fixed on the huge, sleeping leopard, Timokles put out his hand +to take hold of the door through which he had come. His groping +fingers found nothing but the blank wall! + +Hastily turning with alarm, Timokles passed his hand over the wall's +surface. Surely the door had been here! There was no handle, no line +in the wall to indicate the existence of a door. + +How silently it had swung shut, when he had come through! He +remembered that there had been no noise. He pressed his full force +now against the wall. He tried it softly, cautiously, here and +there, till he had passed over the entire space in which he knew the +door must be, and yet the wall stood apparently blank and whole +before him! The other walls seemed to be solid. + +With beating heart, Timokles pushed once more at the partition. It +remained firm. Trembling with the shock of his sudden entrapping, +Timokles looked toward the room's far end. It was as he thought. The +beast was not chained. The sleeping leopard's spotted hide heaved +softly yet, with undisturbed breathing, and as Timokles watched +across the space, he remembered the ominous words spoken to him on +his entrance into this building: "Go in, O Christian! Others have +gone before thee!" + +For a time, overcome by the horror of his situation, Timokles leaned +against the partition, the door through which had so mysteriously +disappeared. His eyes, between quick glances at the sleeping +leopard, searched with desperate intensity every part of the room, +for some means of escape. + +"Is there no place?" he questioned. + +Stealthily he crossed the apartment, and felt of the opposite wall. +It was immovable. Nowhere in it could he discover any opening. + +The beautiful beast, the waking of which meant so much to Timokles, +stirred a little. The claws of one foot were drawn up. Then the foot +was relaxed again. The leopard continued to slumber. + +High above Timokles were two small windows, closed by wooden +shutters. The half-ruined flat roof showed holes here and there +where the old palm branches of its construction, covered with mats +and plastered with mud, had given way. Had it not been for these +holes in the roof, Timokles would hardly have had light enough to +perceive the leopard, for the wooden shutters of the two windows +prevented their being of much service. + +Even with the roof's holes, the room was dark. The rents in the roof +were much too far above Timokles to help him to escape; however, and +he reflected that if the roof. had been lower, the place would +hardly have been chosen for the confinement of a wild beast, the +present height of the walls preventing the escape of the leopard, as +well as that of any Christian. + +The leopard stirred again! + +"He wakes!" thought Timokles, summoning his courage for that waking. + +But the great cat only moved his head to a somewhat more comfortable +position, and continued to sleep. + +Timokles repassed slowly and silently so much of the walls as was +accessible to him. The wall next to the sleeping beast could not be +safely examined, yet Timokles, looking through the gloom, noted from +his distance no more promising signs than were exhibited by the +other three sides of the room. Most of all did he linger about the +spot where, it seemed to him, he had entered, and more than once as +he touched the surface of the wall, seeking for some hidden spring, +he thought he heard behind him the leopard's soft footsteps, but, +turning hastily, found himself mistaken. + +At length, in his search, Timokles slightly stumbled over some lumps +of mud that had fallen from the roof. The crunching sound partly +aroused the leopard. With a long-drawn sigh, the drowsy creature +stirred and rose slowly to his feet, stretching himself. He did not +yet see Timokles. + +How beautiful the spotted hide was! Timokles, watching with steady +eyes for the instant when he should be discovered, had a fleeting +memory of that leopard-skin that covered a seat at home in. +Alexandria. He would never sit there again. + +Even in these dread moments of suspense, there flashed across +Timokles' mind the memory of the saying of the martyr Ignatius, +bishop of Antioch, who was sent to Rome to fight with wild beasts: +"I am God's wheat; the teeth of the fierce beasts will but bruise +me, that I may be changed into the fine bread of my God." + +It was the moment of discovery! The leopard had been standing, +looking around half sleepily. Now his great eyes spied the lad. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +The beast gave a quick, purring sound of satisfaction. His tail +began to sweep to and fro. His hungry eyes were eager. + +Timokles stood quiet. The leopard walked slowly forward. Timokles +retreated, still facing the leopard. They passed down one wall. They +turned, and proceeded along another. They turned again, and passed +the third. Now they turned, and this wall was the one that Timokles +had not before had opportunity to examine closely, because of the +leopard's proximity to it. But now he dared not look from the +leopard. + +"Oh!" whispered Timokles' pale lips, "what shall I do!" + +Suddenly life seemed sweeter to him than ever before. He must not +fall into the jaws of this fearful beast! To be caught in this +death-trap, and be torn to pieces! It must not be! He did not regret +that he had avowed his belief in Christ. He would do such a thing +again, if necessary. No less, there grew within him a determination +to ward off this beast as long as possible. + +"Oh, Lord, help me! Deliver me!" whispered Timokles. + +They turned another corner, and once more the two enemies proceeded +down the treacherous wall through which Timokles had entered the +room. Even as he retreated, Timokles with a last hope kept one hand +pushing against this wall. But they reached the other corner, and +turned, without any revelation of an opening. The leopard walked +leisurely, but steadily. Softly the footsteps of Timokles and the +beast sounded in the room, one footfall answering another. Backward, +backward, went Timokles--now a turn of a corner--backward, backward. +Another corner. This was the wall by which the leopard had slept. +Backward, backward! The lad could not pause, but now, as he neared +the end of the wall and looked up once beyond the leopard, Timokles +saw, in the dark corner that he had passed, what he had not before +noticed when near enough to see it, as he had not before lifted his +eyes from the leopard. In that farther, dark corner there was a +darker line that marked the wall for some distance from the roof. + +Timokles dimly perceived that the line was part of one of the old +palm branches, that, years ago, had been laid across the split date +tree that formed the roof's beam. At the time of the making of the +roof, the palm branches had no doubt been securely fastened, and now +this portion of a branch which hung down was still attached to the +top of the outer wall of the building, but had ceased to be +connected with the central split date tree beam, and had fallen +inward, hanging near the wall. Did the palm branch hang low enough +so that, if he jumped, he could grasp it? + +The portion of the old palm branch was a slender thing. It would not +have borne the leopard's weight. Probably the animal had tried to +clutch the branch before now. The lower end might be frayed by his +claws. + +"Will the branch bear my weight?" questioned Timokles. + +He dared not rush across the room, and leap toward the hanging palm +branch. He felt certain that if he should turn his back, the leopard +would spring immediately. How quickly the beast was coming! +Timokles' head whirled. He was dizzy. + +Suddenly the leopard growled. He crouched as if to spring, and +Timokles, with a wild cry, fled across the room toward the palm +branch. After him rushed the leopard. + +Timokles jumped. He grasped the palm branch with one hand. The other +brought a handful of frayed bark down. He caught hold of the branch +with both hands just as the leopard sprang into the air. + +Timokles swung aside as far as possible. A great mass of mud, +dislodged from the roof, fell, smiting alike boy and beast, +enveloping them in a cloud of blinding dust. The lad clung to the +branch with desperate strength, though his support was swaying to +and fro. The claws of one of the leopard's paws raked Timokles' arm, +and then the beast dropped to the floor. + +The leopard's angry cries stunned Timokles' ears. He clutched the +palm branch tightly. From the swaying motion and the sound of a +slight, though ominous, cracking, Timokles doubted if his support +were reliable. + +The rage of the leopard was frightful. He seemed beside himself. He +leaped and rushed hither and thither, as he saw Timokles climbing +higher. + +The boy shook with exhaustion. His right arm bled from the wounds of +the leopard's claws. He was alarmed lest the old palm branch should +break or should loosen from the wall. If he once fell back into the +leopard's jaws, there would be a swift end to this skirmishing. + +Timokles looked down at the eager eyes. Then he scanned the palm +branch narrowly. It did not hang parallel with the wall, but stood +out a little from it, and Timokles thought that the branch was +partly broken, up next the roof. He hardly dared climb much higher +for fear of breaking it entirely off. So he lay along the branch, +clasping it with his arms, and shut his eyes. He heard the leopard +walk impatiently around, stop, utter an angry cry, walk restlessly +again, spring unavailingly into the air, drop heavily to the floor. + +At last Timokles opened his eyes. A yellow light, turning into +darkness, seemed to fill the space before him. Alarmed, he strove to +overcome this faintness. He knew his arm had been bleeding a little, +but he had not before this feared unconsciousness. Now he began to +feel that he must reach the roof. His faintness might prevent him +from clinging to the palm branch much longer. + +With Timokles' first motion the leopard was alert again. Timokles +climbed cautiously. He was nearing the roof. There was a cracking +sound, such as he had heard, before. The leopard moved vehemently. +Suddenly the branch cracked so that it swung Timokles against the +wall. The leopard's movement sounded like a leap. + +Timokles was sure that the branch was giving way. He was nearly to +the roof. He clutched at it. The mud-covered, rotten mat that he +grasped broke through his fingers, and the dust descended into his +face. He grasped again, with the same result. The branch was +momentarily growing looser. The leopard was ready. + +Timokles grasped again--again--again! The rotten mats and the mud +with which they had been plastered came away in great handfuls. He +could hardly see, for the descending dust. He grasped blindly, +desperately. He felt something firm! It was another palm branch that +his fingers reached as he dug through the mud. He held on with the +clutch of despair. + +His head just reached a hole in the roof. He missed his grasp, and +fell back on the swinging, broken palm branch. With one final, +cracking sound it parted! Timokles' one hand grasped the top of the +wall; his other hand reached the outer part of the roof. He heard +the old palm branch fall, and the leopard spring to meet it. + +Dragging himself upward, panting with exhaustion, Timokles succeeded +in mounting through the hole to the outside of the roof. His foot +plunged through a mat. He recovered himself, and crawling to a +little distance from the hole, he lay down on the roof. The sun was +high in the heavens, but all the world became black to Timokles. + +He lay there, faint, for hours. When he could look up at last, the +sun was descending toward the west. Far overhead sailed the sacred +hawk of Egypt, and the bird's piercing cry, full of melancholy, +reached Timokles' ears. The shadow of a palm tree stretched outward +and touched him. + +"Oh, God!" whispered Timokles reverently, "Thou west Daniel's God. +Thou art mine!" + +Night had fallen. Timokles, lying in the dark, heard a sound beside +the building. Some one was coming! + +Timokles crept to the roof's edge farthest from the sound, and lay +down. + +The head of a man appeared above the roof's level. Evidently he was +not accustomed to the roof, for he was very cautious in his +movements, and tested every step he took. He carefully approached +one of the holes of the roof, and, kneeling, put his face down to +the aperture. + +The man spoke, and, by his tones, Timokles recognized Pentaur the +merchant. + +"Oh, Christian!" cried Pentaur into the depth of the building, +"livest thou? Ill shall I fare at the judgment of Osiris for this +day's deed!" + +There was silence. + +Perhaps, from the darkness of the room below, Pentaur could see the +shining of the brute's eyes, or hear his uneasy stepping to and fro. +Something sent a shudder of horror through the man. + +"I have taken pleasure in righteousness," he protested. "I have +heretofore done no injury to men who honored their gods. Oh, Osiris, +I have been righteous!" + +There was an awful horror in the man's voice. Timokles was moved +with compassion for his former owner, and yet the lad kept silent. + +"Shall I speak to him?" Timokles questioned himself. "If he shall be +beset in some other place by those who hate Christians, will he not +abandon me again to my enemies?" + +The merchant waited a moment longer. + +"Oh, Osiris!" then he wailed again, "I have been righteous! He was +only a Christian!" + +The merchant sprang up, and sped toward the edge of the roof where +he had first appeared. His foot plunged to its ankle through a weak +place in the mats. He shrieked aloud at the fear of falling through +into the room below. Hurrying forward, he disappeared down the side +of the building. Timokles heard the man running among the fallen +stones. The footsteps grew faint, and ceased to be audible. + +Timokles drew a breath of thankfulness. He crept and felt in the +dark for a few, scattered dates that he had before noticed lying +near the roof's edge, the fruit having fallen from a date palm and +having lain there till nearly as dry as shards. But there was still +nutriment left in the dates, and, having eaten nothing since +morning, he gnawed the fruit. + +He could not descend by the date palm's trunk, for that was too far +from the roof to be reached by him. The palm's straight trunk shot +up twenty cubits above the roof's level, and, after the manner of +the date palm's growth, bore no branches, such as the doum palm has. + +"How did Pentaur climb?" thought Timokles. + +The lad passed to the other edge, where the merchant had +disappeared. Here, a little lower as yet than the roof, he found a +group of young doum palms, the branching stems of which variety of +trees he had noticed here and there in forest-like clumps throughout +the oasis. Timokles found no difficulty in descending with the doum +palms' help, and he reflected that perhaps food for the leopard was +often brought up this way, and thrown to the creature through the +roof's holes. No one had come to-day with food, because the +Christian had been sent to keep the leopard company! + +The village, some distance away, was quiet. Scarcely had he gone a +score of steps before he saw a star reflected in a spring at his +feet. Timokles dropped upon his knees, and with thankfulness drank +of the refreshing water. How he had longed for some, as he had lain +on the roof under the parching sun this day! He bathed his scratched +arm, which had ceased to bleed but still felt very sore. + +Carefully Timokles crept over the fallen remnants of the old +building. Then he turned from the direction in which the village +lay, and set his face toward the northern limestone hills. + +He was concealed among them when the sun rose. It would be folly for +him to venture out alone upon the desert without food, even if he +had water in his small skin bottle. As the morning went by, Timokles +saw a few desert hares, but otherwise he was alone. Toward evening, +being compelled to find some food, he searched the district, and +found, under the stones, the nest of some wild bees. With much +difficulty Timokles obtained a little of the honey. + +A falling stone attracted Timokles' attention. Turning with quick +affright, he saw a woman. There was a startled suspicion in her +eyes, as she gazed at him. She held a young gazelle that had strayed +away and had been the object of her search near these hills. +Suddenly the woman disappeared without a word. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"Let me hide speedily!" Timokles warned himself. + +He ran, but shouts arose behind, and before he could conceal +himself, two men came running after him. The woman's shrill cry was +audible. The men came up with Timokles, and laying hold of him in a +manner not wholly rough but still imperative; they brought him back +with them to the spot where the woman still stood. + +The three looked at him with curious yet not wholly unfriendly eyes, +and Timokles felt relieved on seeing that he was not recognized as +any one whom they had seen before. This spot was so far from that on +which the building stood where he had been given to the leopard, +that the lad concluded these people had not witnessed that scene. +Pentaur's caravan would have left the oasis before now. Probably the +merchant was about to renew his journey at the time of his visit to +the leopard's den. + +The woman pointed to Timokles' branded cheek. Taking heart from the +apparent lack of real hostility in the manner of his captors, +Timokles asked for something to eat. He was understood, and the +three, taking Timokles, turned from the hills, and proceeded +eastward, till, coming to a black tent near some palms, the woman +went in and brought Timokles some barley cakes. + +While the boy ate, the two men, still watching him, betook +themselves to work. They seemed to be makers of idols. The father +was carving a small wooden statuette of the god Thoth. The son +worked on a larger idol, the goddess Apet, or Thoueris, in the shape +of a hippopotamus walking upright on hind feet. The idol was of +green serpentine, and the mother watched with evident pride the +skill with which her son worked. + +Timokles moved to rise, and instantly the suspicious eyes of the +young hippopotamus-sculptor flashed. The father dropped his +statuette, and, fiercely springing forward, forced Timokles to the +ground, bound him, and went back to the carving of the ibis-head of +Thoth. + +Beneath the hand of the younger idol-maker, the hippopotamus grew in +hideous perfection. Helplessly Timokles watched the process. The +mouth of the hippopotamus-goddess was almost shut, but the teeth of +the lower jaw were visible, and it was upon their making, as well as +upon that of the wide nostrils, that the young man was expending his +skill. The huge ears of the goddess descended on the fore-feet, +which were placed on the sides of the upright animal, as a man's +arms hang by his sides when he walks, and from each of the +hippopotamus' arms there descended to the level of her feet the +Egyptian emblem of protection, called "Sa." + +As Timokles looked at those emblems of protection, a new thought +grew within him. + +"Women will worship that hippopotamus-goddess and think themselves +safe! I worship the God of heaven, and yet I am afraid! Shall I not +put as much trust in the delivering, protecting power of my God, as +the idol-worshiper will put in this hippopotamus?" + +There came the sound of hurried footsteps, and a young girl ran by +the black tent, and spoke gayly to the woman. From the resemblance +of the maiden to the worker on the hippopotamus, Timokles had no +doubt she was his sister. But when the girl, turning her brilliant, +laughing face toward Timokles, first saw him, her dark eyes dilated +with a look of startled horror. + +Timokles knew, as well as if she had spoken, that she was one of +those who had seen him dragged to the leopard's home. He looked +beseechingly at her now, as she stood transfixed, the shocked +expression deepening in her eyes. If she should say a word! Timokles +could feel himself tremble. She had thought him dead! She knew him! +If she should say so! + +The silent appeal of Timokles' beseeching face seemed to find its +answer for the moment. The girl turned toward the work of the idol- +makers. No one beside Timokles had noticed her frightened gaze. Now, +with assumed carelessness, she watched her brother's busy fingers, +yet Timokles felt that her thoughts were of him. She had only to +speak; to say, "This is the Christian who was thrown to the +leopard," and father and son would drop their work, spring upon him, +drag him back all the way to the building from which he had escaped, +and toss him, bound and helpless, to the leopard. + +It was not till nearly dark that the idol-makers ceased their work. +Having eaten dried dates and barley bread, the father and the son, +first tightening Timokles' thongs, went away in the direction of the +far distant village. During their absence, the girl came to +Timokles, bringing him water and dried dates. + +"Tell me, O Christian," she whispered in the tongue of Egypt, "art +thou not he?" + +She needed not to make the question more explicit. + +"I am, O maiden," answered Timokles. The girl's awe-struck eyes +searched his face. + +"Did thy God deliver thee?" she questioned, whispering still. + +"Yea," replied Timokles reverently and truly. "Yea, O maiden, my God +delivered me from the leopard." + +The girl looked alarmed. She drew back. + +"Did he come to thee?" she asked in a terrified whisper. "O +Christian, no one ever before came back from the House of the +Leopard! O Christian; I am afraid of thy God!" + +There was real terror in her voice. Timokles was moved with +compassion. He leaned forward, eager to explain to her the truth. +What should he say? + +"He is a great God, the only God!" whispered Timokles, reverently. +"O maiden, he is not like an idol! He is the only God. Thou canst +not see him, yet he seeth and loveth thee. Speak to him, and he will +hear. He loveth us. He sent his Son to die for our sins. For that +Son's sake, O maiden, he will blot out our sins, if we entreat him. +O maiden, pray no more to idols! Lo, I tell you of the true God!" + +He hardly knew whether she understood or not. She gazed at him as if +half comprehending his words, and then the fact of his having +returned from the House of the Leopard seemed to overwhelm every +other thought, and she murmured, "O Christian, I am afraid of thy +God and thee!" + +She fled back to the black tent. Timokles' bound hands made but +awkward work of eating. He could hear the voices of the mother and +the daughter talking in the mother's tongue, but what they said he +knew not. Would the father or the son learn something about their +captive? + +The voices hushed within the tent. The hours of sleep came on. + +The night had grown black. There were footsteps audible. + +"They have come back!" thought Timokles. + +The father and the son had returned, and with them came another man. +Timokles heard and understood something of what was said at the +tent's door in the dark. + +"If I may but see his face, I shall know whether he hath been here +before," declared the new voice eagerly. "I have seen all who have +come to our village." + +"Thou shalt see him in the morning," impatiently answered the maker +of the hippopotamus. "Knowest thou not that on this day I cannot +make a flame by which thou shouldest see? It is the eleventh day of +Tybi, concerning which it is commanded by the priests of Egypt, +'Approach not any flame on this day; Ra is there for the purpose of +destroying the wicked.'" + +"I fear no flame!" muttered the new voice discontentedly. "Let me +but see the stranger!" + +"There shall no flame be kindled!" burst out in wrath the +superstitious father. "Bide thou till morning! Then shalt thou see +the branded one." + +Silence followed. The discontented villager did not dare say more. +After a short time, the quietness of slumber seemed to envelop the +black tent. + +Concealed by the dark, Timokles endeavored with his teeth to loosen +the bonds of his wrists. After prolonged attempts, he undid one +knot, and by successive wearisome trials he at length entirely +released his left hand. + +Timokles was near the black tent. It seemed to him that he heard the +faintest stir within. But a long silence followed, and he thought he +had been mistaken. + +Timokles tugged at the thongs of his right hand. His arm was lame +from the leopard's claws, and he could not reach the knots that held +him. He struggled mightily, till at last he lay exhausted, no nearer +free than before. + +"I cannot do it!" he despaired. + +He must wait for dawn, for recognition, and for death, such death as +was thought meet for a Christian. Timokles shut his eyes, and +prayed. + +"Be with me, be with me, O Lord!" besought Timokles. + +Again within the tent he conjectured there might be a faint stir. + +"My enemy cometh!" he thought. + +But there was silence. Timokles waited, yet there came no sound. + +Remembrances of what he had heard concerning former martyrs crowded +upon him. He thought of Pothinus, the ninety-years-old bishop of +Lyons, who, in answer to the legate's question, "Who is the God of +the Christians?" boldly answered, "If thou art worthy, thou shalt +know," and was tortured so severely that he died in prison. Timokles +remembered hearing of Ponticus, the boy who, in the same +persecution, bore all the tortures unflinchingly, though he was but +fifteen years old. And Blandina, the maiden, who, tortured, +bleeding, mangled, still persisted in her declaration, "I am a +Christian! Among us no wickedness is committed," came to Timokles' +mind. His thoughts turned to the martyr Christians of four years ago +at Carthage, and he remembered the words of one of those Christians: +"We will die joyfully for Christ our Lord." + +Timokles prayed long and fervently. His heart went back to his +beloved Alexandrian home. Heaven would be sweet, but would his dear +ones ever know the only way there? Would they ever accept Jesus +Christ as their Savior? + +"O Lord, help Heraklas to know thee!" prayed Timokles with dropping +tears. + +Nothing did Timokles know of the roll of the Book of the Christians, +the papyrus that had swung from the palm tree in the court at home! + +Something made him turn his head. He started, for he saw, stretched +out toward him from beneath the black tent, an arm. No more was +visible. The black tent descended to the very ground. Looking more +closely, he discerned in the hand a knife. For an instant, Timokles +thought his enemy was upon him. But it was a small hand, and it was +the handle of the knife, not its blade, that was offered to him! + +Timokles stretched out his one free hand, and took the knife. The +arm disappeared beneath the black tent so swiftly and so noiselessly +that Timokles would almost have thought that the sight of the arm +had been an illusion had he not held the knife in his left hand. He +remembered the girl's words, "O Christian, I am afraid of thy God +and thee!" + +"Would that I might have told her more of Him!" wished the young +Egyptian, as he awkwardly cut at his bonds with the knife. + +He was free again! He crept softly away after pushing the knife's +handle back under the edge of the black tent. He felt that in the +secrecy of the tent one listened who knew he was free. + +"Thou didst put it into her heart to save me!" whispered Timokles +with a reverent look at the sky. + +He knew that as soon as his escape should be discovered there would +be instant pursuit, therefore he sought to travel as swiftly as +possible. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +Athribis the slave bent lower--lower yet. What was this that he saw? +He was on the roof of the house in Alexandria. Through an open space +beside the wind-sail next to him, he could look into a small room +below. + +In that room, his master Heraklas knelt and carefully drew a brick +from its place in the wall. Putting his hand into some hole that +seemed to be behind the bricks, Heraklas produced a roll of papyrus. +He glanced stealthily around, and, kneeling still, unrolled the +writing, and read in eager haste, one hand on the brick, ready at +the sound of any coming footsteps to thrust the papyrus quickly into +the wall again. It was a thing well pleasing to the treacherous soul +of Athribis. that he should have discovered some secret of his +master. + +"What is the writing, that he hideth it there?" the slave questioned +himself. + +Heraklas continued to read. Stretched on his perch, and straining +his neck to look, Athribis deemed the time long. His prying eyes +noted carefully the distance of the loose brick from the floor. +Athribis did not recognize the papyrus as one that he had seen +before. The sight of any papyrus, however, had been distasteful to +him since the night of his adventure on the roof, but be thought the +papyri of that escapade safely burned long ago. He knew that +Heraklas' mother had ordered those destroyed that were found on the +roof. Athribis supposed the one also burnt that had fallen into the +court. What else should have become of it? No suspicion concerning +it had crossed his mind till now. + +"Oh, that I could see what he readeth!" wished Athribis vainly. +"What meaneth that large sign? Is it the 'tau'?" + +Heraklas farther unrolled the papyrus, and the mark of the cross +that had caught Athribis' eye and had interested him, vanished. The +mark seemed to the slave like the Egyptian "tau" or sign of life; +used afterwards, curiously enough, by the Christians of Europe as a +prefix to inscriptions. Numbers of inscriptions headed by the tau +have remained even to the present time, in early Christian +sepulchres in the Great Oasis. + +"If that were the tau, there may be no harm in the writing," thought +Athribis sullenly. "Yet why hideth he here?" + +The supposed sign of the tau rolled in sight again, as Heraklas +shifted the papyrus. + +Heraklas had discovered the papyrus when it hung from the palm in +the court. Seeing the character of the writing, he had kept the roll +for secret perusal. He conjectured that the thief, supposed to have +been on the roof, might have dropped the roll. During the three +months that had elapsed since Heraklas found the papyrus hanging +from the palm, he had come often to this secret hiding-place. He +knew his mother would destroy the Christians' Book, if she saw it. +He knew the servants were not to be trusted in the matter. + +Frequently, during the first month, he had thought that he would +destroy the papyrus, and, as often, he had deferred doing so, so +much was he always drawn back to reading it. At the end of the +second month, Heraklas read with even more eagerness than at first. +Here was something that even the maxims of Ptah-hotep had not +attained. Never had Heraklas seen such a book as this Gospel of +John. Its words followed him when he was not reading. Why should the +words of Jesus of Nazareth cling to one's memory with so persistent +a force? Was it true that "never man spake as this man"? + +Even when Heraklas passed outside the city streets, and walked the +northern cliffs beside the sea, he was constrained to remember that +it was along these craggy places that, men said, a century and a +half ago, Mark, the first Christian apostle to Alexandria, had been +dragged by cords, at the time of the feast of the god Serapis. Then, +tradition said, there had arisen a dreadful tempest of hail and +lightning, that destroyed the murderous heathen. + +Was the Christian God greater than Serapis, the great deity of +Egypt? + +Such thinking sent Heraklas back again to study the papyrus of +John's Gospel. And now Athribis wearied, waiting for Heraklas' +reading to end. + +Suddenly Heraklas, attracted perhaps by the silent force that lies +in a human gaze; lifted his head from his reading, and glanced +upward. Athribis had not time to start aside. The eyes of the two +met in a long, piercing gaze! Heraklas sprang to his feet. The +papyrus fell, on the loose brick beside him. + +Athribis' head vanished instantly, and Heraklas, snatching the +papyrus, wound it closely, and thrust it into his garments. + +He hastily replaced the loose brick. No safe place for the papyrus +would the hole be, hereafter. + +When he met Athribis afterwards in a corridor, Heraklas felt his +heart beat more quickly against the hidden roll. But the lad was +stern in outward semblance. + +"Athribis!" he said. + +The slave bent before the lad. + +"How wast thou where I saw thee?" demanded Heraklas. + +"I was attending to the salted quail. Thou knowest they are drying +on the roof," explained Athribis, meekly. + +Heraklas felt compelled to accept the excuse. There were quail +drying, according to the custom of lower Egypt. + +"But what was it that I read in his face, as he looked down at me?" +Heraklas asked himself. + +Thenceforward, unspoken, yet felt as surely as though expressed, +there existed in Heraklas' mind a constant suspicion of Athribis. + +Heraklas carried the papyrus roll with him, day and night. Well did +he know the danger, but he said to himself that he would not be +dictated to by a servant. That was the ostensible reason he gave +himself for not immediately burning the roll. In reality, he knew +that the words of the Christians' Book had pierced his soul. He +dared not burn the book. He stood before its searching words a +convicted sinner. + +The suspicion of veiled surveillance that haunted Heraklas made him +cautious of reading his, papyrus at home. He sought places, to read +it abroad. Hidden among the crags beside the sea, or in the vines on +the banks of Lake Mareotis, Heraklas read, and waged the soul- +struggle that had risen within him. + +One day Heraklas had hidden himself among the northern crags beside +the great sea. His eyes were bent upon his roll. He had been reading +John's record of the conversation between Christ and the man who was +born blind. + +"Jesus said unto him, Dost thou believe on the Son of God?" + +The man whose eyes Christ had opened, answered and said, "Who is he, +Lord, that I might believe on him?" + +"Dost thou believe on the Son of God?" + +It seemed to Heraklas that there came to him, also, Christ's solemn +question. With awe-struck lips, Heraklas whispered, out of a heart +that craved its answer, "Who is he, Lord, that I might believe on +him?" + +Heraklas bent above his roll. The answer of the Lord was there. "It +is He that talketh with thee." + +The lad dropped his papyrus, and covered his face. He bowed in awe. +For a long time he knelt there, pouring out his soul in prayer--but +not to Egypt's gods. And that which is written of the blind man was +fulfilled in Heraklas, also--"And he said, Lord, I believe. And he +worshiped him." + +When Heraklas rose from his knees, the sun was high in mid-heaven. +It was the time at home when his mother would burn myrrh to the sun. +But no prayer to Re or hymn to Horus escaped Heraklas' lips. How +should he, who rejoiced in the knowledge of sins forgiven, pray more +to false gods? + +A holy awe and a great joy wrapped his soul. The burden of sin that +had oppressed him, the hopeless burden which had not ceased to cause +Heraklas misery even when he made offerings to Isis and poured forth +prayers to Serapis, was gone, gone at the touch of Jesus. + +Plucking from his girdle his carnelian buckle, that signified to an +Egyptian the blood of Isis, said to wash away the sins of the +wearer, Heraklas leaned forward, and flung the rosy ornament far +into the white foam of the waves below. He could not wear that +heathen sign, even though his mother had given the ornament to him. + +"O Isis," murmured Heraklas, as he lost sight of the carnelian +buckle within the waves, "I care not for thy blood! I know whose +blood hath washed away my stain." + +With reverent rejoicing, he concealed his papyrus and turned +homeward. + +He passed into the great city. A woman was worshiping before a +statue of the god Chonsu, the moon. Heraklas went by quickly, making +no sign of reverence. Glancing back, he saw the woman gazing after +him. + +A little farther on stood a statue of Anubis. Other men, as they +passed, gave homage, but Heraklas did not turn his head toward the +idol. He noted, in the stalls and in the shops, the altars and +little idols. When he next went to purchase anything, must he do +reverence? Heraklas met a beggar and dropped a coin into his hand. + +"Isis and Osiris bless thee!" wished the suppliant. + +Heraklas' lips parted to answer. Should he, who had been blessed of +the Lord, seem to accept the blessing of idols? But the beggar +turned to another giver, and Heraklas hurried on his way. + +Before he could reach home, a sacred procession came in sight. +Already Heraklas could plainly see the leopard-skin that fitted over +the linen robes of the Egyptian high priest who was coming. Twelve +or sixteen inferior priests walked beside the superior one. The high +priest's lock of hair, pendant on one side of his head, became more +and more plain to Heraklas with every step of the procession. + +"They carry the shrine of the sacred beetle of the sun," suspected +Heraklas. "I cannot meet them!" + +He turned, and dashed down the first opening that presented itself. +The passage led him utterly out of his way. + +"But better so," meditated Heraklas, "than that I should have met +that skin-dressed priest!" + +He stopped an instant. His circuitous way had led him in sight of a +spot where he had once seen the Christian woman, Marcella, and her +daughter Potamiaena, passing on their way to martyrdom. How awful a +form of martyrdom was it that Alexandria visited upon that beautiful +Christian daughter! Gradually, hot, scalding pitch was poured over +her body, in order that she might endure the utmost torture +possible. + +Heraklas looked around him at the proud, beautiful city. + +"O Alexandria, Alexandria!" he whispered, "in thee is found the +blood of the saints!" + +For a moment the thought of such a death, as a Christian's +punishment, overcame him. Yet he remembered that it was through +Potamiaena's martyrdom that the soldier, Basilides, was led to +become a Christian also. He refused to take a pagan oath, and was +brought to martyrdom. + +When Heraklas reached home, he was trembling. His short journey had +been freighted with silent meaning. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Two men passed out of the Gate of the Sun, the northern gate of +Alexandria, and came to the docks that bordered the Great Port. The +gaze of one man wandered from the promontory of Locrias on the east +to the isle of Pharos on the north, and followed back the dyke that +connected that island with the docks and marked the division between +the Great Port and Alexandria's other harbor, the Port of Eunostus. + +"When that ship saileth," remarked the man, indicating a large +vessel moored in the Great Port, "some Christians go as ballast!" + +"How knowest thou?" asked the other. + +The former speaker smiled. + +"Thou didst not see a little procession that came through the Gate +of Necropolis last evening," he conjectured. "Some Christians +brought in from the desert. This ship carrieth them to Rome, to the +lions of the arena." + +An unbelieving spirit looked from the other man's eyes. + +"When the Christians see that ship waiting for them, they will +recant," he prophesied. "A man doth not readily take shipping for +the port of a lion's mouth!" + +"Thou dost not know the Christians," asserted the other. "They are +an obstinate people. Our Lord Severus knoweth that right well. See! +He hath forbidden all public worship for the Christians. Their great +school here bath been scattered. And yet, Christians remain +Christians still! It is incredible! Thou didst speak without knowing +what hath happened. The Christians have already seen the ship. They +are on it! Not one bath recanted. But the ship saileth not for two +days yet, and now, the men on board make merry. Hearest thou not +their voices?" + +A slave passed so near as almost to brush the speaker's apparel, yet +the man paid no heed. + +But Athribis had heard. For what else but to hear had he this +morning stolen down to the docks? He knew of the little company of +Christians that had been brought captive to Alexandria, for a slave +belonging to another household had told Athribis secretly, "He who +was once thy young master--the Christian, Timokles--hath been +brought in from the desert and goeth on the ship!" + +In his heart Athribis made answer, "The ship needeth another +passenger--my young master, the Christian, Heraklas!" + +But, as yet, Athribis hardly dared say so, for he had no certain +proof to bring of Heraklas' Christianity. If only he could find +decisive proof, and bring it before the authorities, what a reward +he might hope to have given him! + +Yet never, from the day when Heraklas spied Athribis watching the +reading of the roll, had the slave, with all his contriving, been +able again to catch sight of the papyrus. It was no longer kept in +its secret hole behind the bricks. Athribis had looked. + +Where else had he not looked? He had hunted the house through as +thoroughly as he had been able, snatching a hasty opportunity here +and there. If only he could lay hands on that very papyrus! If he +could have time to show it to somebody who could read! Deeply had +Athribis regretted that he had not been more cautious in his first +spying. But now, what hope was there? Athribis had set some of the +other slaves of the house to watch, but they had discovered nothing +save the old papyri that bad been in the house for years. Some of +the slaves could read, and they were sure this was so. + +Out on the docks, Athribis stared now at the large mast of the ship, +and at the ship's painted eye, and at the sculptured figure of the +goddess Isis on the visible side of the ship's bow, both eye and +figure, as Athribis knew, being duplicated on the bow's other side. +A small boat belonging to the large ship lay floating in the water, +but connected with the ship by a rope. + +Athribis dared not tarry longer. He hastened home again. + +Closer than ever, as he went his morning round of duties, did +Athribis watch, but Heraklas was invisible. + +"He is not at home. He went away three hours ago," cautiously +signaled the slave of the threshold to Athribis. + +The slave of the threshold, like Athribis, hated Christians. There +was a secret agreement between the two men that if Athribis ever +should gain any reward for betraying Heraklas to the authorities, +the reward should be evenly divided. Half should belong to the slave +of the threshold, in consideration of his having been apparently +asleep at times when Athribis went out without permission. + +The hours went by and Heraklas did not come, to be spied upon. + +That morning, Heraklas had gone out to seek some Christians whom he +knew. Two weeks ago he had sought them for the first time to tell +them that he wished to join their number. Greatly had he and they +rejoiced together. + +"Witness a good confession, as did thy brother Timokles," an old man +admonished Heraklas. + +Almost daily, since then, Heraklas had sought some Christian who +taught him more perfectly the way of the Lord. + +Today, as Heraklas sat in a house, secretly studying another portion +of the Book than was written on his own papyrus, a Christian woman +came hastily to him, and told him the tidings concerning his +brother. + +"He hath assuredly come!" affirmed the woman. "Vitruvius saw him +carried to the ship with other Christians!" + +The before eagerly-read papyrus dropped from Heraklas' hand. He grew +weak and faint. The woman looked at him pityingly. + +A wild impulse seized Heraklas. He rushed from the house to the +street. His brother, his Timokles, back again! Back from the desert! +Back in his city-home of Alexandria! And not to be allowed to draw +one free breath, to come back to the house, to see Cocce, to see +him, Heraklas! What could be done! What could be done! To be taken +to Rome to meet the lions! + +Heraklas ran toward the northern gate. He bethought himself of +caution, and tried to go with his usual step. He passed through the +Gate of the Sun, and by discreet inquiries discovered which ship the +Christians were on. Then he hid himself near one of the docks, and +watched the ship. + +Two days! One of the days partly gone already! Timokles would go +away never to return, surely, this time. + +"I also am a Christian!" cried Heraklas aloud. + +Only the swaying of the water against the dock answered him. He +sprang up and walked out on the dyke that stretched toward the isle +of Pharos. Opposite him, the ship showed still more plainly than +from the docks. Heraklas made out the prayer inscribed on the +vessel: "Do thou, O Isis, preserve in safety this ship over the blue +waves" + +"O Timokles! Timokles!" cried Heraklas, as he stretched his hands +toward the ship. + +Heraklas walked the dyke till the burning sun of noon forced him to +find shelter. He went back to his hiding place at the docks. He +watched and waited through the long hours. + +At length the day departed. When the darkness covered the surface of +the harbor, Heraklas rose and girt about him the ample dress he +wore, of fine linen, that descended to his feet. + +He slipped softly into the water, and swam toward the ship. Reaching +the small boat that floated by the ship, Heraklas drew himself up +into the little craft. + +He listened to the lap of water on the side of the ship. A sudden +joy shot through Heraklas that they were so near together, Timokles +and, himself. It was for this he had stayed outside Alexandria till +the gates were shut. It were better to be a homeless Christian on +this water than to linger in godless Alexandria! + +He heard sounds of revelry on shipboard. Heraklas pulled on the rope +that fastened the small boat to the ship. The rope was stout and +well-fastened. + +In the dark, he began to climb the rope with trembling fingers. Now +he hung by the side of the ship, and now, one hand above another, he +drew himself higher, higher, till he grasped the ship's side. He +struggled over it, and dropped down on board in the darkness. He +waited. No one came. He heard sounds of men that laughed and talked +loudly. + +He crept a little distance. A rope dangled in his face. He found +himself under the aperture where the buckets for bailing were +worked. After long and careful groping, Heraklas concealed himself +in the vessel's hold, and waited. He suspected that the Christians +were in the hold, but he was afraid to search far. + +He had not been long hidden before he heard near him the sound of a +great sigh and the rattling of a chain, as of some animal half- +wakened from sleep. + +"It is some wild animal that is to be taken to Rome," suspected +Heraklas, not without a little uneasiness at his own proximity to +the beast. + +It was likely that the creature was well secured, yet the lad crept +farther away. He could hear the sound of feet above him and the +laughter of men who, no doubt, were drinking on this almost their +last night in port. + +A sound came from another portion of the hold, and Heraklas +listened, trying to discover whether the living being in that +direction were a beast or a person. While he listened, a faint light +began to shine in the hold. There descended softly into the hold two +men, one bearing a light. Heraklas drew back farther into the +darkness. The men passed on, their light held so that Heraklas did +not see their faces. But the hasty glimpse that the lad had of his +surroundings told him that the beast he had crept away from was a +lion that was securely caged in one portion of the hold. + +Softly the two men proceeded toward the direction from which +Heraklas had heard sounds. Stealthily Heraklas rose. He surmised +where the two men were going. He wished, yet hardly dared, to +follow. + +The light swung one side. One man turned to speak to the other, and +the light fell full on the speaker's face. + +Heraklas leaped softly forward, and followed without hesitation. For +the face he had seen was the face of Athribis! + +There were eight of the Christians. Heraklas, peering from a +distance behind, saw the light held high, as the men paused beside +the Christians. Absolutely exhausted, most of them, by the forced +march of the desert, and by the lack of enough food, they were +asleep, and Heraklas noted with a great pity their gaunt faces. + +Athribis bent eagerly forward, scanning one worn contenance after +another. + +"Hold the light this way--more this side--here!" he said. + +Athribis laid his hand on one sleeper's shoulder, and turned him, +slightly. + +"This is he!" joyfully exclaimed Athribis. "This is he! I had feared +he was not among these, after all. This is he! I would know him +anywhere! I never saw that brand, though. That is what made him look +differently to me at first. But this is he! This is he!" + +"Cease thy prating!" warned his companion, fearfully. "If the men of +this ship were not so drunk, thou wouldest have little time to talk! +Thinkest thou I care nothing for my head? Hasten! Wake him, if thou +wilt, but hasten! Thinkest thou the petty coin thou gavest me will +pay me for my head? Hasten! They think I am guarding these prisoners +safely." + +"Small time wilt thou spend guarding them, if thou knowest where +aught is to drink!" responded Athribis sarcastically. "How much hast +thou drank today?" + +The wearied Timokles slumbered on, regardless of the light and +talking. + +Back in the dark, Heraklas clasped his hands. A mighty sob rose in +his throat. The Christian was indeed Timokles! How worn he was! And +that brand upon his cheek! + +Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening. + +"Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze, +he recognized the slave. + +"Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I +see you once again. My Christian master!" + +The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone. + +Timokles looked around, bewildered. A quiver passed over his lips. +Athribis reminded him of home. + +"Is my mother here?" asked Timokles. A sorrow deeper than tears +looked from his eyes. + +Athribis smiled. "Thy mother!" he said. + +The tone was a sufficient answer. Timokles' eyes fell. + +"Thou wilt never see her again," went on Athribis. "Thy mother +hateth thee! She is faithful to Egypt's gods, if thou art not! I +came here only to be certain thou wert on the ship." + +"Camest thou from her to me on that errand?" asked Timokles calmly. + +Athribis laughed, and turned to go. + +"Farewell, my Christian master! Farewell!" said the slave, +mockingly. + +There was an instant's silence. The great lion sighed from his cage. + +Then answered Timokles' low voice, "O Athribis, may my God become +thine, also!" + +A laugh came, as the slave's reply. Athribis and his conductor went +away. The light faded from the hold. + +Heraklas crept near the Christians. + +"Timokles!" he whispered. "Timokles! O Timokles, my brother!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +From the bound Christians came no answer to Heraklas' cry, though +there was a startled movement among them. + +"O my brother! my brother!" murmured Heraklas, the tears running +down his face in the dark, "I am Heraklas! I, too, am a Christian!" + +"Heraklas!" cried Timokles, "Heraklas! How camest thou hither?" + +"Peace!" whispered Heraklas in terror. "Thou wilt be heard!" + +Heraklas cast his arms about his brother and clung to him. + +"How art thou bound, my Timokles?" asked Heraklas, when they had +embraced and wept together. + +"My feet are bound with naught but cords, but a chain about my body +fasteneth me to a hook in the wall," answered Timokles. "Thou canst +not release me, my brother! Flee, while thou canst!" + +"Nay, but I will try," whispered Heraklas resolutely. + +He drew his knife from his girdle, and feeling of the cords that +bound his brother's ankles, cut the knots. Timokles sighed with +relief, as he moved his cramped feet. The feet of two of the other +Christians were bound with thongs, and these Heraklas cut also, but +the other five Christians were bound hand and foot with chains, and +for them Heraklas' knife could not avail. Timokles and the other two +had been considered weaker in body, or else the persons who secured +the Christians had been in haste to join the reveling of the +mariners, and had thought cords strong enough. Yet what availed it +that the feet of any of the Christians were free, if their bodies +were securely bound? + +"Thou hast done all thou canst, Heraklas," whispered Timokles. "Go +now, my brother. O my Heraklas, I rejoice thou art a Christian! Go! +We shall meet again in the kingdom of our God!" + +"I will never leave thee," answered Heraklas, firmly. "The men are +drinking themselves senseless. I will try what I can do." + +He felt the wall till he found that Timokles' chain was held, not by +a hook, but a staple. It was only after long labor with his knife +around this staple that it shook a little in its hold on the wall. +Then Heraklas seized the staple, and swung his whole weight upon it, +and dug his knife into the wall like a madman. He worked with +perspiration standing on his forehead, his breath coming in pants. +Furiously, with all his strength, he dug and pulled till the staple +yielded, and he fell down among the prisoners. But the drunken men +on deck did not hear. + +Heraklas labored on, till at last he threw his arms about his +brother. + +"Stand up, my Timokles," he begged. "See if thou art not free!" + +Timokles arose. Nothing hindered him. + +"O Heraklas!" he whispered, trembling with excitement. + +"Sit down again and rest, till I help our brethren, also," whispered +his brother. + +But though Heraklas toiled with all his remaining strength, he +succeeded in releasing but one other Christian. + +"Leave us," urged the others. + +"O my brethren," answered Heraklas with a sob, "would that I could +save you!" + +But the six Christians answered steadily, "Why weepest thou, +brother? We but go to our Father's house before thee." + +Then he whose feet Heraklas had released, thanked him most heartily, +and all said farewell. + +Hours had gone by since Heraklas first came on board the ship. +Cautiously he and Timokles and the other Christian crept out of the +hold. Every movement of their own affrighted them, though they knew +a drunken stupor rested on some of the ship's company. One after +another the three fugitives finally slipped into the water. Heraklas +bore up Timokles, who swam but weakly. The third Christian was +feeble, but he made headway, and in slow fashion they came at length +to the docks of Alexandria. + +By this time it was long past midnight. That Timokles or the third +Christian, whose name was Philo, should enter the city was not to be +thought of, since they would be recognized and retaken. After +consultation it was agreed that Timokles and Philo should proceed +along the edge of the sea in an easterly direction and hide +themselves at a point agreed upon, on the coast, a distance from the +city. Heraklas was to enter into Alexandria at the earliest dawn and +was, if possible, to send a message to his mother. He was to obtain +an amount of food, such as he could carry without exciting +suspicion, and was to met his brother and Philo at the appointed +place on the sea-shore. Then they were to flee. + +Heraklas went with the others a little way. It seemed as if he could +not part from Timokles. Who knew if they should ever meet again? + +In the house where Heraklas' mother dwelt, a receiving-room for +visitors looked upon the court, but a row of columns led inward to a +private sitting-room, which, after the manner of the Egyptians, +stood isolated in one of the passages. In this isolated room, the +mother sat on a stool of ebony, inlaid with ivory. Beside her lay a +papyrus on which was written part of the Sacred Book of the +Christians. The face of the proud woman was hidden in her hands. + +Before her stood a messenger who had brought her the following +writing from Heraklas: + +"O my mother, forgive thy son! I have found Timokles! He is weak; +nigh, I fear, to death. O my mother, I also am a Christian: Read, I +pray thee, the papyrus I send. It is part of the Christians' Book. +We flee, with other Christians, from Alexandria, today. Farewell." + +The mother lifted her face, and her cry rang through the room, "O my +sons, my sons!" + +She had execrated Timokles at times when she had spoken of him +before Heraklas, and he had thought that the execration came from +her heart. But she had longed, with pain unspeakable, to see +Timokles once more. And now, when she knew that he had been in +Alexandria, that he needed a mother's care, that Heraklas, also, had +owned allegiance to the Christians' God--when she thought of +Christians burned, beheaded, given to wild beasts--when she realized +that perhaps she should never see again the face of Timokles or +Heraklas, the heart of the mother broke within her, and she wailed, +"O my sons! My sons!" + +"Hush!" warned the messenger, quickly. "Thy slaves will hear thee!" + +The mother seized the messenger's arm. + +"Tell me where my sons are," she begged. "I will go to them!" + +The messenger looked piercingly at her. He, a Christian, had risked +much to bring her this message. Dare he trust this woman, known to +be a devout worshiper of Egypt's gods? Would she not betray the +fleeing Christians? + +"What is it, my mother?" he asked gently.--See page 37. + +"Tell me where my sons are!" besought the mother with tears. "Oh, +tell me! I cannot lose them! What is my, home to me without them? I +will not betray any Christian! Only tell me; and let me see my sons +again!" + +Then the messenger saw in the mother's eyes that she spoke +truthfully, but he said, "How can I trust thee?" + +"I swear by Isis!" implored the mother. + +"Nay," returned, the messenger gravely, "it is not meet that a +Christian should bind any one by a heathen oath." + +The mother cried out, and besought him, declaring that she would +depart from Alexandria, if her sons could not dwell there. + +"They cannot, except they risk death," stated the messenger "Thou +knowest Timokles' life is forfeit. Knowest thou not how many +Christians have fled, and what torments Christians who have been +brought here from all Egypt have suffered? Wouldst thou thy two sons +should suffer in like manner?" + +"I will go into exile with them," answered the woman. + +"How wilt thou leave this, thy beautiful home?" asked the messenger. + +"I will leave it in the, care of my kinsmen," she replied. + +"It may never be thine again," warned the messenger. + +"Hear me, O Christian!", cried the mother passionately "I know not +the Christians' God, but the Emperor Severus shall not take away my +sons! I care not if he takes my home!" + +"Come then with us," answered the messenger. "I trust thee! May the +Christian's God cause thee to know Him!" + +That day there passed through Alexandria's streets a chariot drawn +by two mules. Seated in the chariot a lady and a child rode in +state. The charioteer was only a small lad. + +Out of the city by the eastern gate, as they had passed so many +times before, Cocce and her mother rode. Who would hinder so devout +worshipers of the gods from taking a pleasure drive? Alexandria knew +nothing yet of Heraklas' defection. + +When Alexandria was some distance behind, the lady spoke. + +"Stop the chariot," she commanded. + +The young lad obeyed. The woman and child descended to the road. + +"I would walk," said the woman. "Drive thou home again, and say thou +naught. See, here is something for thee." + +She gave him some money. + +The lad did as he was bidden. The mother of Heraklas had known whom +to choose for her charioteer this day. + +The chariot receded. It passed out of sight. A distance away from +the road, a man rose and beckoned. It was the messenger of the +morning, disguised, as a beggar. + +They went northerly toward the sea. The mother's straining eyes +looked ever forward. How if the Christians had been discovered! How +long the way was! + +A faintness seized upon her as they neared the sea. What if her sons +were not there? She hurried forward. + +The sea splashed on the rocks at her feet. The salt splay blew in +her face. They were not here! They were not here! + +Out of the recesses of the rocks, some forms arose, and Heraklas, as +in a dream, saw his mother, his proud mother--she who had burned +incense to the sun, she who had once held the sacred sistrum in +Amun's temple, she who had taught him to worship Isis, and Osiris, +and Horus, and the River Nile--his mother throw her arms about +Timokles, and kiss his scarred cheek, and sob on the young +Christian's neck, "O my son, I have missed thee so! I have missed +thee so!" + +Some ten months later, on the desolate, uninhabited western shore of +what the Hebrews called "Yam Suph, the Sea of Weeds," known now as +the Red Sea, in the country spoken of by the Romans as part of +Ethiopia, now named Nubia, a little company of Christians made ready +their evening meal. + +Down on the shore a little girl sang. Her voice rose exultantly in a +hymn of the early Christians: + +"Blessed art thou, O Lord; teach me thy judgments. + +"O Lord, thou hast been a refuge for us from generation to +generation. + +"Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us. + +"Thou hast healed my soul in that I have sinned against thee." + +"O Lord, to thee I flee for refuge. Teach me to do thy will +Because thou art my God; Because thou art the fountain of life In +thy light shall we see light. Extend thy mercy to them that know +thee." + +Timokles went toward the shore to call Cocce. As he returned, he saw +his mother standing a little apart from the other Christians and +gazing toward the northwest, in the direction of Egypt, as she had +often gazed since the Christians took refuge here. + +"She misseth her home," thought the young man sadly. "It is but a +rough abiding-place here for her. And yet Severus hath not found us. +I would that she had come here for the love of Christ, and not for +love of her two sons, only! Then she would feel, as the others of us +do, that there is no one who hath left house or lands for our Lord's +sake, but receiveth a hundred-fold in this life, and in the world to +come life everlasting. Oh, I would that my mother might know how +near our Lord can be, even in this desert!" + +His mother had ceased to speak of Egypt's gods. She had even read +somewhat in the Christians' Book. But to Timokles she seemed no +nearer to accepting Christ than when she was in Alexandria. How +little we know of the heart-experiences of those persons nearest to +us! + +Timokles drew nearer. His mother heard his step, and turned toward +him, but in place of the homesick longing he had expected to see in +her eyes, there was a look that thrilled his soul. + +"What is it, my mother?" he asked, gently. + +"Timokles," she answered softly, "I was thinking but now of +Alexandria and of our dear home there. Timokles, if God had not +driven me into the desert, would I ever have found him?" + +Timokles trembled with exceeding joy. Could she be speaking of the +real God, not of Egypt's idols? + +"Hast thou found Him--the Christian's God--my mother?" he asked +tremulously. + +A holy awe looked from his mother's face. + +"Did not his Son say, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast +out'?" she answered. "I have come to him, Timokles--even I, the +former worshiper of Isis--and he hath not cast me out." + +"O my mother!" murmured Timokles, overcome by the glad tidings. +"What more can I ask of him than this!" + +The sun sank, and Heraklas raised for the little company the evening +hymn of the early church. His mother's voice rose clear and sweet, +as all sang: + +"Children, praise the Lord, Praise ye the name of the Lord. We +praise thee, we hymn thee, we bless thee, Because of the greatness +of thy glory. O Lord the King, the Father of Christ, Of the spotless +Lamb who taketh away The sin of the world, To thee belongeth praise, +To thee belongeth song, To thee belongeth glory, to the God And +Father, through the Son, in the Spirit, To the Most Holy, unto ages +of ages. Amen." + +However long their exile might be, whatever privations they might +suffer in this desert place, the little company could sing their +praises with gratitude, for now not one voice of their number would +be silent. Here they would abide, telling of Christ to every heathen +wanderer whom they could seek out in these wilds. And if it should +please God that henceforth Egypt might never hold a home for them, +yet they could dwell in the deserts beyond Rome's dominion, knowing +that He who when on earth had no place to lay his head would be with +them. He had delivered the last one of the little company from the +snare of false gods. + + + + +THE SQUASH OF THE ESVIDOS. + + +Black dog slipped through a swinging gate and Miss Elizabeth +followed him into an olive, orchard of small dimensions. The family +to whom the black dog belonged was there. The father, Bernardo +Esvido, stood on a step-ladder, picking black olives into a bucket +half filled with water, the bucket being fastened to Mr. Esvido's +waist so that he might use both hands, while the water in the bucket +prevented the ripe olives from being bruised. He who picks ripe +olives into a hard bucket knows not his business. + +Beneath another olive tree sat the mother, the daughter, and the +son, washing olives in a water-trough. The small black dog raised +his voice, and did his best to inform the Esvidos that a stranger +eyed their olive-washing. + +"You read Portuguese?" asked Miss Elizabeth, smiling on the busy +group. Miss Elizabeth was not a book-agent, but, moved by the +religious destitution of the Portuguese, she had devised the plan of +buying at some city book-store Bibles or Testaments in Portuguese, +and then going into the surrounding country and hunting for +Portuguese who could read. To such, on account of their poverty, +Miss Elizabeth often sold for ten cents a Bible she had bought for +forty or sixty cents. She would gladly have given the Bibles free, +but from observation she had become persuaded that those Portuguese +who paid a few cents for a Bile were much more likely to read it +than were those to whom one was given for nothing. + +At Miss Elizabeth's question the united Esvido family looked at the +mother. She was the one reader of the group. Many Portuguese do not +read, either in English or in their own language. If a Portuguese +woman reads Portuguese, her neighbors perhaps know of her +accomplishment. Mr. Esvido was proud that his wife knew how to read +Portuguese even if he was ignorant. None of the family could read +English. + +"You like buy Biblia Sagrada?" (Holy Bible) questioned Miss +Elizabeth. "It is all Portuguese." + +The red book was passed to the mother, who shook olive-leaves and +dust from her hands, and took up the Bible. She had dimly known that +there was such a book. She remembered hearing of the Biblia Sagrada +years ago, when she was a girl in Lisbon, long before she came to +California; but none of her acquaintances had such a book, and she +had never before to-day seen a Portuguese Bible. + +But at last the book was handed back to Miss Elizabeth. + +"No money," carelessly explained Mr. Esvido. + +The oil-maker who bought the crops of the local olive-growers had +not yet paid for the olives. Even ten cents was not in Mr. Esvido's +pocket, just now. + +Miss Elizabeth looked around. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Esvido seemed +very anxious about the Bible, but Miss Elizabeth felt anxious for +them. A woman who could read Portuguese ought to have a Bible, and +she ought to pay something for it in order to interest her in it +thoroughly. Miss Elizabeth's eyes spied a yellow squash. She did not +want it, but it would be payment. + +"You give me squash, I give you Biblia Sagrada," she proposed. + +"How you take it?" asked Mr. Esvido, smiling. + +Miss Elizabeth opened her hands with a gesture that showed she meant +to carry the squash, hidden as much as possible under her short +cape. + +"We make trade," agreed Mr. Esvido; and Miss Elizabeth, leaving the +Bible, bore the big squash away. + +But Miss Elizabeth's yellow burden became very heavy before she had +gone far on the long country road. She found at last a wandering +piece of newspaper, which she wrapped over as much of the vegetable +as possible. The rest her cape covered, and then she marched on +toward the far wires of the electric car-line that had brought her +into the country. So vanished the squash of the Esvidos from their +eyes. + +Meantime the Portuguese mother read aloud from the Bible. The +daughter, Delpha, listened, while gently rubbing the black olives in +the water-trough. She knew of Christ, yet the words of the Biblia +Sagrada were unknown. + +After this, Mrs. Esvido read the book much in the evenings. Delpha +and Mr. Esvido listened, the father listening more because just now +he had not his pipe for company. The American who bought the olives +declared that no one who picked olives for him must smoke during +olive harvest! All his workmen, even when off duty, must refrain +from smoking, for the tobacco odor clung to clothing. The olives +would absorb tobacco smoke. The oil would be spoiled. Mr. Esvido +grumbled much, but obeyed. There was a warning in the fate of the +neighbor, Antone Ramos, who in last year's olive season had thought +one evening to smoke a pipeful of tobacco secretly, and lo! the +American, ever watchful, came to Antone Ramos' house that very +night, and the tobacco smoke was perceptible! Antone Ramos was +discharged! + +Therefore, during this year's olive harvest, Mr. Esvido, with a +cautious respect for the American's preternaturally, acute +perception concerning tobacco, refrained from smoking, and found +solace in listening with Delpha to Mrs. Esvido's evening readings +from the Biblia Sagrada. It seemed marvelous to Mr. Esvido that his +wife could read. The marvel of it had never lessened for him, and +one night he said proudly, "We make good bargain when we give squash +for Biblia Sagrada! Biblia Sagrada ver' good book." + +One day Mrs. Esvido read something that startled Delpha. Site could +hardly believe it possible that her mother hid read aright. + +The words in the Portuguese language were these: "Amai a vossos +inimigos, fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." (Love your enemies; do +good to them that hate you.) + +Alas! Delpha knew whom that meant. + +There had long been a deep-seated quarrel between her and Sara +Frates. Thinking of this bitter animosity, Delpha felt keenly the +command, "Fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." + +Olive harvest went on. The Esvido olives were gathered. Then Delpha +and Sara and others went to work in the American's costly olive-oil +mill, scalding the mill-stones and the crushing troughs daily, +sweeping the scraps of olive skins from the floors, and scalding the +floors to keep every odor away from the precious olive oil. Before +beginning this season, the walls of the building had been given a +coat of whitewash, and now a wood fire must not be lit anywhere near +the premises, for the precious olive oil might take a smoky taste. + +It was therefore with great wrath that Delpha, who was careful to +obey rules, found one day, in a crushing trough under her +supervision, some scattered little pieces of iron. Now iron must +never be allowed to come in contact with olive juice. The tannic +acid in the olive juice acts very rapidly on the iron, producing a +kind of ink, that turns the oil black and almost ruins it. The +American's crushing troughs and weights were of granite. Delpha was +sure Sara had scattered the pieces of iron in the crushing trough on +purpose to bring Delpha into trouble. + +"I do something to her!" resolved Delpha fiercely. "I pay her for +this!" + +Then she remembered, "Fazei bem aos que vos tem odio." (Do good to +them that hate you.) To Sara's amazement, Delpha did not retaliate. +Sara could not understand why. + +Toward the end of the olive season, the American went away for a +day. During the noon rest, Delpha, sitting in a side door, thought +she caught the odor of smoke. No wood fire was allowed around the +oil-mill! Delpha went out to investigate. + +She saw a film of smoke rising from a gulch. Delpha discovered that +some of the young mill-workers' friends had caught some fish in the +bay sparkling in the distance, and had brought them this way going +home. The American being absent, the young mill-workers and their +friends had made a fire in the gulch, and were merrily broiling +fish. Sara was there, disobeying rules with the others. + +Delpha ran back to the oil-mill. She hoped the fire's smoke would +not injure the oil. She was troubled as she dropped in the door. But +she could do nothing. + +By and by she heard screams. She sprang up. Sara came running around +the mill. Her dress was on fire! + +"Delpha! Delpha!" she screamed, "Delpha, help me!" She seemed crazed +with fright. + +"Fazei--bem--aos--que--vos--tem--odio!" + +Did a voice say it to Delpha? She snatched a great canvas bag used +for olive-picking, and a shawl. She ran to Sara. She breathlessly +tore at the blazing garments, rolling Sara in the shawl and canvas +bag. Blackened, sobbing, Sara lay at length safe on the ground. +Delpha ran for water and olive oil. + +As Delpha gently spread some olive oil on the burns, Sara flung her +arms about Delpha's neck. + +"Amiga!" (friend) she sobbed, and the enmity between the girls was +over. + +Miles away, Miss Elizabeth one day said to herself, "I don't believe +we can ever use that squash I brought home from those Portuguese! +But anyhow the squash made that Portuguese woman feel that she paid +for the Bible! I hope she reads it, poor soul!" + +But Miss Elizabeth did not know the whole story of the squash of the +Esvidos, or of the message that the Biblia had brought to Delpha's +heart. + + + + +THE VERSE MARTIN READ. + + +Martin put his bare feet down through the thick dust of the country +road. It was warm summer, and he was used to going barefoot, even to +Sunday-school, from which he was now returning. Over the hot, dry +grass of the fields there swayed at frequent intervals the heads of +California wild oats. One such stem grew near the road, and Martin, +with a quick sweep of his hand, pulled off the wild oat heads and +went on through the dusty road, scattering the oats as he walked. +Martin was thinking. + +"Teacher doesn't know how 'tis," he said. "I have to carry 'round +milk mornings and nights, and I have to go down to the barn to hunt +eggs, and I have to help pa about the stage horses, and sometimes I +have to ride the horses back to be shod, and I have to walk a mile +to day-school and back, and learn my lessons, and I'd like to know +how teacher thinks I've got much time to read the Bible some every +day. There's lots of days I don't believe pa reads any in the Bible. +He's too busy driving the stage and 'tending to the horses. And ma +doesn't read it, because she has to cook for the teamster boarders. +It's a real pretty book teacher's given me, though." + +Martin felt inside his jacket, and brought out a little New +Testament. It was only a ten-cent Testament, for Miss Bruce, his +Sunday-school teacher, did not have money enough to buy Bibles for +her class of thirteen boys. She had felt that she must do something, +however, for the boys were destitute of Bibles of their own. + +The best she could do was to buy small Testaments with red covers, +and she had cut a piece of bright red, inch-wide ribbon into +thirteen lengths, had raveled out the ends so as to make fringe, and +had put a piece of this fringed ribbon into each boy's New Testament +for a book-mark. The boys thought a great deal of the pieces of +ribbon, they were so bright and pretty. Miss Bruce had written some +special little message to each boy in the front of his Testament. +The general purport of each message was that the book was given with +the teacher's prayer that the boy might learn to love the Bible and +might become a real Christian. Some of the boys let the others read +what was written in the Testaments, and some boys did not. + +Miss Bruce had given them the Testaments to-day, and had said that +she hoped each boy would read a little, daily, in his Testament, +even if it were only two or three verses. + +"I wonder if teacher'll ask me next Sunday whether I've read any?" +Martin questioned himself now, as he admiringly eyed his piece of +red ribbon. "It'll be a shame if I have to tell her, the first +Sunday, that I've forgot it! I'd better read one verse now, so I can +say I read that, anyway, if I forget the rest of the week." + +Martin sat down beside the road. He was not a very good reader. This +was the first piece of the Bible Martin had ever owned. There was an +old, unused family Bible at home. A red Testament, was much more +attractive to Martin. + +"Where'll I read?" Martin asked himself now. "I want an easy verse. +Some of them look too hard." + +He began and dropped several verses, because of their difficulty. +Finally he settled on one, because of its shortness. He read its +seven words haltingly but carefully. + +" 'L-e-s-t'--I don't know that word--'c-o-m-i-n-g'--coming--'s-u-d- +d-e-n-l-y--he find you s-l-e-e-p-i-n-g.' 'Lest coming suddenly, he +find you sleeping.' " + +Of the connection of the verse, and its spiritual significance, +Martin knew nothing. The word "l-e-s-t" puzzled him. He would ask +somebody about it. + +When he helped his father with the horses at the barn that evening, +Martin questioned his father about the word "l-e-s-t." + +"Haven't you spelled it wrong?" asked his father. "I guess it's 'l- +e-a-s-t'--'least'--smallest." + +"It's in my new red book," answered Martin, perching on the watering +trough. "I'll find the place." + +Martin did not know much about New Testament books or chapters, but +he knew that verse was on the eighty-second page. Martin had noted +the little numbers at the bottom of the pages. + +"Here 'tis!" triumphantly exclaimed Martin. + +His father took the book. Martin's eager finger pointed to the +verse. + +"Lest coming suddenly, he find you sleeping." + +The words faced the stage-driver. Well did he know their meaning. +Years ago in his mother's home he had been taught from the Bible. +His eyes now ran over the preceding_verses. He caught parts of them. +"The Son of man is as a man taking a far journey." "Watch ye +therefore." "Ye know not when the master of the house cometh." "Lest +coming suddenly, he find you sleeping." + +"Don't you know what 'l-e-s-t' means?" asked Martin, eager for the +explanation. + +"Oh--why, yes," responded his father. "It means 'For fear' he should +come suddenly." + +"Who?" asked Martin. + +"The Lord," returned his father gravely. + +"Why shouldn't they be sleeping?" asked Martin. + +"Who?" said his father, turning to attend to the horses. + +"I don't know," said Martin. "I mean my verse." + +"Martin," stated the stage-driver, "I'm no hand at explaining. Don't +ask any more questions." + +Every Sunday after this Miss Bruce persisted in asking whether the +boys read in their Testaments. + +"It's mean the way some of the boys don't read any, after her giving +us all nice red Testaments," Martin told his father. "I don't read +much, but I ought to read some, after her fringing that red ribbon! +Most verses I read are short, like 'Lest coming suddenly, he find +you sleeping.' " + +The stage-driver moved uneasily at the words. + +"He hasn't forgot that verse after all these weeks?" thought the +man. + +"I know what that verse means now," went on Martin. "Miss Bruce told +me. She says some folks forget they've got to die, and they ought to +be ready for that. A good many folks don't become Christians, and +Miss Bruce says she's afraid they'll be like that verse, 'Lest +coming suddenly, he find you sleeping.' You and I won't be that way, +will we, father? I'm going to try to be ready. Ain't you? Miss Bruce +says folks ought to always be." + +His father's eyes were on the harness he was buckling. + +"I hope you'll be ready, Martin," answered the father, "even if I +ain't." + +The place where Martin lived was a small settlement distant from +town. Martin's father, Mr. Colver, not only three days in the week +drove the stage, but other days acted as a sort of expressman, +bringing freight in a large wagon over the miles from town. One +night about nine o'clock, Mr. Colver was on the long, lonely road +coming toward home. He had a very heavy load on his wagon. The +wheels scraped on the wagon bottom, and the team went with a heavy, +dragging sound. + +As the heavy wagon came opposite a clump of white blossoming buckeye +trees, one of the fore wheels of the dragging wagon suddenly gave +way and fell off. Mr. Colver was thrown violently from the wagon's +high seat into the road, among the tumbling heavy boxes and barrels. +The sharp corner of one box struck Mr. Colver's head near the +temple. + +The weary horses waited to be urged forward again. They did not know +that their driver lay insensible in the road. + +It was early gray morning before one of the teamsters who boarded at +the Colvers' found Mr. Colver lying still insensible, and brought +him home. The blow on the head had been a very dangerous one. Martin +gazed awestruck at his father's shut eyes and unconscious face. + +"I wonder if pa's going to die?" the boy anxiously thought. "I +wonder if pa's ready?" + +The sorrowful hours came and went. Mr. Colver regained +consciousness, but for weeks he felt the effects of the blow that +might have smitten him never to rise. + +One night when Martin was going to his room, his father called +weakly to the boy. + +Martin turned back. He found his mother sitting beside his father. + +"Martin," said his father with grave earnestness, "your mother's +been reading to me from your Testament. We've been talking about +Bible things that we haven't paid much attention to. We were both +brought up better, Martin. The Lord's had mercy upon me. He might +have taken me suddenly that night, but he knew I wasn't ready, and +he had mercy on me. And now, lad, your mother and I thought we would +just kneel right down here to-night, and ask the Lord to take each +of us, and make us his own. You want to, don't you, my son?" + +Martin nodded, and for the first time the stage-driver's family +knelt together. They whose souls had been sleeping were awake. + + + + +BY THE WAY. + + +Cliffs by the blue bay held many fossil shells. Children sometimes +strayed here and there with hammers, pounding out fossils from +fallen pieces of the cliffs. On the extent of sands that bordered +the cliffs and stretched up the coast between them and the breakers, +old stumps that had been months before brought in by the waves lay +half buried from sight. A short distance farther up the coast, the +sands went a greater way inland, forming a nook where driftwood and +stumps had accumulated. On the sand in this nook stood a horse and +an old wagon. Beyond a large log, a little fire of driftwood had +been started, and a woman was endeavoring to fry some fish in a +spider. Two children had partly unharnessed the horse, and were +giving him some dry grass. + +From afar, a woman and a girl who had been taking a walk on a road +high up on the cliffs, looked curiously down at the persons in the +sandy nook. + +"I wonder who they are, and what they are traveling that way for?" +said the girl to her mother. + +"It's the same wagon that was on, the sands last night, I suppose," +returned her mother." The milk boy said he saw a wagon drive on the +beach about dark. I wonder if they stayed up here all night? Suppose +we walk down, Addie, and talk with that woman." + +"I'm afraid she won't want to see us," objected the daughter. "If +they had wanted to see anybody, they'd have stopped at the +settlement." + +Notwithstanding this objection, the mother began to descend the path +toward the sands at the bottom of the cliffs. Both Mrs. Weeks and +her daughter Addie were somewhat breathless by the time they had +pushed their way through the heavy white sand to the spot where the +stranger, was cooking. The spider contained only a few very small +fish. + +"Good-morning," said Mrs. Weeks, pleasantly. + +The brown-faced woman who held the spider lifted her eyes and +nodded. + +"Have you been fishing?" asked Mrs. Weeks. + +"We didn't have much luck," murmured the other woman. "Maybe we +didn't fish in the best place. Tillie was wanting fish." + +The younger of the two children colored and hung her head at this +reference to her. The other smiled shyly. + +"We have some fresh rock cod up at our house. My brother catches +fresh fish for us every day," said Addie to the older little girl. +"Don't you want to walk back with me, and, get some of the fish for +your mother?" + +The child nodded. "We're not beggars, Miss. You must not rob +yourself of your own fish," remonstrated, the child's mother; but +Addie assured the woman that fish were so plentiful in the +settlement that neighbors often gave part of the results of a catch +to some one else. + +The girl went away over the cliffs with the child. Mrs. Weeks sat +down on a log. When Addie and the little girl came back with the +fish and some milk, Mrs. Weeks rose and went home with her daughter. + +"The woman's husband is dead, and she's driving north with her +children," Mrs. Weeks told Addie. "She has an idea she can get work +in some cannery up the coast. I told her there were some unoccupied +tents in our settlement, and I wished she and the children would +come and sleep in the tents, while she's here. But she won't come. I +was sorry they slept on the beach last night, but she says they are +used to sleeping in the wagon, and it is warm weather, you know." + +The wagon did not drive on that day, though the woman and the +children kept away from the little summer settlement. + +It was the custom of the people of this small settlement to go down +on the beach, after dark at evening, and have a camp-fire. Some old +stump would be lit, and the, people would, sit, on, logs or on the +sand about the fire, and talk and sing. The last thing, every night, +hymns were sung. + +To-night, Addie and her, mother went down to the beach as usual. +After sitting by the fire awhile, Addie rose and wandered up the +beach, as persons sometimes did, to watch the waves. At a distance +from the camp-fire, where the darkness, covered the beach, Addie +turned to go back. She was startled by a movement in the darkness. + +"Don't be afraid," said the voice of the woman who, with her +children, had spent that day in the nook farther up the beach. "The +little girls were asleep, and I came here to listen to the folks +sing. That's the reason I haven't driven on to-day, because I hoped +the folks would sing again to-night, the way they did last night. I +haven't heard hymn-singing for years, before. I've lived in mining +and such places. I want to ask you a question." + +The woman paused. + +"Do you suppose my baby's at the River?" she went on. + +Addie hardly comprehended the woman's meaning. + +"What river?" asked the girl. + +"The River they sang about last night," explained the woman. + +She motioned toward the group at the distant camp-fire, and Addie +remembered that on the previous evening the people had sung: + +"Shall we gather at the river?" + +"I haven't heard that sung before for years and years," the woman +continued. "We used to sing it when I was a little girl at home in +the East, but I've mostly forgot such things. Mining camps and a +drunk husband make you forget. There never was a church anywhere we +lived, and Sam got drunk Sundays. And then he died. I don't suppose +Sam got to the River. I don't know. I wish he did. But if my baby's +got there, I want to go to the River." + +The woman began to sob. + + "I never told you about my baby." she faltered." He was a dreadful +nice little-" + +"Good-morning!" said Mrs. Weeks pleasantly. + +baby. I've got some of his things in a little box in the wagon. He +died after his father did. I wouldn't feel acquainted with the +saints that the folks sang gather at the River; but I'd feel +acquainted with my baby. He's there, isn't he?" + +"Yes," said Addie softly, "your baby's by the River, and you can go +there, too." + +The woman tried to control her sobs and listen, while Addie told in +as simple language as she could the way to peace. + +"It's just coming to Christ, just as we are, and asking him to make +us his," finished the girl. "He's promised to forgive, if we're in +earnest about asking." + +Addie waited a moment. + +"Maybe you'd be willing to come to the camp-fire with me," suggested +Addie. "Those people are only, some of our neighbors. They like +these open-air meetings. Perhaps they'd make the way clearer to +you." + +"No," said the woman hastily. "No, I'm not fit for such folks, but +would you mind doing one thing for me? Will you go back and just sit +down, careless like, on one of the logs there by the fire, as if +you'd got back from going down to see the breakers roll in, the way +some of the folks do? And don't let anybody know you've seen me at +all! Don't say one word about me, but when they get through singing +some hymn, won't you just start them singing, 'Shall we gather at +the River'? I want to hear it once again, but don't let them know +they're singing it for me! Will you manage it the way I want?" + +"Yes," promised Addie. + +The girl went back and sat down on a log beside the fire, with the +other people. The fire was beginning to burn low, and the girl was +fearful lest at the end of the hymn that was being sung, some one +should make a move to go back to the encampment. As soon as she +could Addie began: + +"Shall we gather at the river?" + +The other voices took up the hymn. No one noticed that Addie's voice +soon faltered and was still. + +"Shall we gather at the river, Where bright angel-feet have trod: +With its crystal tide forever Flowing by the throne of God?" + +The words rang, out clear and sweet, and then the joyful assurance +broke forth: + +"Yes, we'll gather at the river, The beautiful, the beautiful river. +Gather with the saints at the river That flows by the throne of +God." + +The words of stanza after stanza floated out into the darkness of +the cliffs and upper sands with a distinctness that the loud waves +did not overcome. There was no form or, motion visible in all the +night that hid the shoreward side of the beach. + +The next morning Addle went from the settlement, to carry the woman +and her children some milk. When the girl reached the nook, she +found it empty. She ran upon the bluffs, and looked northward, but +there was neither horse nor wagon visible. The mother, and children +had evidently resumed their journey very early, and the turns of the +country roads had hidden the travelers. They had vanished forever. + +"God guide them to the River!" whispered Addie. + + + + +AT COUSIN HARRIET'S + + +The "filaree," or pinclover; had borne its seeds with curious long +ends--those seeds that California children call "clocks"--and among +THE filaree there stood, on slender, bare stems, small flowers of +the lily family which are known as "bluebells." A boy was walking +through the filaria. He was carrying a hatchet and an ax, and he +looked tired, though it was early in the day. + +"I guess Cousin Harriet doesn't know how hard working on the alkali +patch is," he murmured softly. "She isn't like mother:" + +The boy's head dropped, and a sob escaped him. + +"I wish mother hadn't died;" he said chokingly. "Most every boy has +a mother." + +He tried to stop crying, but it was hard, for he was overworked, and +he was only twelve years old. + +Six months before this, his mother had died. Several weeks alter her +death, Claude's father had been called East on business; and had +left the boy and his younger sisters Rose and Daisy on a ranch owned +by Cousin Harriet, several miles from the children's former home. It +had been very hard for the children to part from their father so +soon after their mother's death, but he told them that while the +business that called him East would take a number of months, yet +there was some prospect that their mother's own sister, Aunt Jennie, +with her husband and little boy, would come with Claude's father on +his return. Then they could all live together at the dear home +place. So the stay at Cousin Harriet's would not probably be +perpetual. + +Cousin Harriet was a widow. She looked after her ranch with great +diligence. She had several hired men and women, and the ranch was a +very busy place. Cousin Harriet was not much used to children, +having none of her own, but she tried to do her duty by the three +left in her charge. Rose and Daisy did not find the household tasks +that were assigned them very difficult. Cousin Harriet secretly did +not like boys, however. She tried to treat Claude justly, but the +boy sadly missed the mother-love to which he had been accustomed all +his life. He was expected to help the hired men on the ranch, and +they made him work rather hard, especially since they had been +fixing the "alkali patch." + +The alkali patch was in the southwest corner of Cousin Harriet's +ranch. On several acres, nothing would grow, on account of the +alkali in the soil. The alkali stood on the ground in white patches +here and there, and Claude hated the sight of it. Cousin Harriet, +however, was very enthusiastic about trying to reclaim this "alkali +sink," so that it might bear crops. + +Alkali extended over the fields of adjoining neighbors, and Cousin +Harriet thought that if only her hired men could conquer her alkali +patch, then the discouraged neighbors might think it possible to do +something with such parts of their land, also. So, one of the first +things that was done with Cousin Harriet's "alkali sink" was to make +some redwood drains, shaped like the letter V, and place these about +three feet below the surface. A "sump," or drainage pit, was dug, +too, into which the drains might discharge the alkali water. The +hired men expected Claude to help dig the "sump," and it proved +quite hard work. So did the pounding of the "hard pan" on the alkali +tract, itself. The tough, hard clods of earth were so difficult to +pulverize that they had to be pounded with crowbars and axes. + +"I used to think that helping pick lemons, at home, was work," +Claude thought to-day, as he went toward the part of the ranch where +he was expected to work, "but I didn't know about alkali patches, +then. And--I had mother." + +The tears would come into his eyes. + +The hired men were scattered over the extensive alkali tract, and +were pounding the clods. Claude chose to work near a man called +Neil. The boy liked Neil better than the other men, because he did +not speak crossly. + +Claude sorrowfully lipunded the alkali clods. How tiresome the work +was, and how uncomfortably warm the sun! The boy worked dejectedly. +After a while, pausing to take breath, he looked up and found Neil +also pausing. + +"We are tired," said Neil, with a friendly smile. + +"Don't you hate this work?" exclaimed Claude vehemently. "I wouldn't +touch it, if Cousin Harriet didn't make me." + +The hired man looked kindly at the small, tired boy. + +"It is not most pleasant," he returned, "but what I think of makes +me glad while I work." + +"What do you think of?" asked Claude, giving an alkali clod a push. + +"I was thinking," answered Neil gently, "how once I had a hard +heart--very hard. It was like these clods, where nothing good can +grow. People who looked at me could see that my heart was hard. Men +would have said, 'Neil's heart can never be different' But Jesus +took away my hard heart and gave me a new one. That is what makes me +glad all the time, though I work on these hard alkali clods. Some +day this patch we work on will be different. There will be +beautiful, green, growing crops on it. But that is not so great a +change as it is to change a hard heart and get a new heart from our +Savior." + +Claude did not say anything. He bent over the hard clods and worked +silently, but he was not thinking of his work. He was remembering +his mother's voice as it had sounded nights when she had knelt +beside his bed and prayed that her boy might become a Christian. +There had been one night that Claude would always remember, when his +mother had come for the last time to his bedside, and prayed feebly +for her boy. The next week she had died. + +Claude looked up at Neil, now. The man evidently found the work +hard, but his face showed that he had spoken truly when he said that +he was glad, even though he did work on the hard, alkali clods. + +"I wish I were like Neil," thought Claude. + +The wish grew. It changed into an earnest prayer, not that he might +be like Neil, but a prayer for the same blessing that Neil had--a +new heart. No earnest prayer for that gift is ever met by a refusal. +Neil watched Claude anxiously, as they worked day by day. + +"We can't change ourselves, any more than this alkali plot can +change itself," said Neil, "but we can yield ourselves and our life +to the blessed Jesus and love him, for he is love." + +One day, Claude said softly, "I've done it, Neil. I've given myself +to Jesus." + +The face of the hired man glowed with added happiness through the +toiling days that followed. When the alkali clods were broken and +plowed, gypsum was scattered on the land and harrowed in. Then water +was turned on and allowed to stand several inches deep over the +alkali plot. The water stood for several weeks. Gradually it soaked +through the soil and passed out into the drainage pit. After several +soakings, alternating with breaking of clods and treatment with +gypsum, the former alkali patch was given some seed. How the men +watched the land day after day, and how the first green sprouts of +corn were hailed! The alkali patch was changed. Cousin Harriet was +rejoiced. + +"There's so much land saved," she said. "It's a great change." + +Neil listened to the words as in a parable. He was thinking of a +greater change. He was rejoicing over the boy of the household. + +Months had gone by. One day there was a joyful outcry at the farm- +house. The little girls rushed out to meet their father. With him +was their mother's sister, Aunt Jennie, with her husband and little +boy. + +Claude was on the ranch at work, and did not hear the joyful outcry +at first. + +He was not aware of the new-comers, till his father and the two +little girls rushed where Claude was working, and the boy's father +caught him in a close embrace. + +"Come and see Aunt Jennie," his father said to Claude. + +"She-she looks like, mamma," whispered Rose tremulously, and Claude +came somewhat bashfully into the house. + +There he saw a woman whose face did indeed look, like his mother's, +and he felt mother-arms put around him. He heard a voice like his +mother's say, "Is this my boy?" He felt a warm teardrop on his +cheek, and he knew that Aunt Jennie understood and cared for boys, +and that he would be indeed "her boy." + +That afternoon they all drove away from the ranch, leaving Cousin +Harriet smitten with a sudden sense of loneliness, for she had even. +grown attached to Claude as well as to his sisters. The boy looked +back at the ranch. It was rapidly being left behind, but he could +still see the green patch of corn that covered the place where the +alkali used to be. Rut the boy was, not thinking of the alkali patch +alone. A look of reverent thankfulness came into his face. "Mother +will be glad I ever met Neil," he thought. + +TWO small brown hands were held outstretched in the air. Cautiously +they moved forward, lower and lower. Then they darted and grasped +with speed what seemed to be some sand. Something in the sand +objected, but the boy held on and gathered sand and all into his +tin. He looked with much satisfaction at his presumably indignant +prisoner, a spiny gray "horned toad" that had been peaceably sunning +himself, nearly buried in sand, on the hill. + +The owner of the two nimble hands, Arturo, smiled. + +"Get four bit, maybe!" he anticipated. + +"Get four bit for tia Marta!" + +In California "four bits" means a half dollar. Occasionally somebody +on the overland train that stopped at the station in town would be +attracted toward a spiny "horned toad" as a curiosity, and would buy +one. Arturo meant to try to sell this specimen in that way. If he +got the money, he would give it to tia Marta. + +Tia Mama was Arturo's aunt. "Tia" means "aunt" in Spanish. +Presumably for the reason that nephews are sometimes troublesome to +their aunts, there is a Spanish proverb that warns a nephew against +making his aunt too frequent visits: + +En casa de tia, Mas no cads dia:' ("In the house of thy aunt, But +not every day.") Notwithstanding this adage, however, the boy Arturo +lived with his Aunt Marta. This was not always pleasant, for neither +Arturo nor tia Marta was perfect. Yet they really thought a good +deal of each other. The third member of the household was Tia +Marta's husband, do (uncle) Diego, but he was very old and lame, and +could not work. Tia Marta earned the living, and Arturo usually +thought of himself as dwelling with tia Marta rather than do Diego. +Arturo never quarreled with his uncle. + +When the overland train stopped at the station for water, and Arturo +rushed breathlessly to sell his horned toad, the eager boy found no +passenger who was desirous of being a customer save an old gentleman +who doubtfully offered twenty-five cents for the creature. 'Arturo +stuck bravely to his intended price of "four bits," but the train +creaked for starting, and, alarmed, the boy hastily handed over the +toad, took the quarter of a dollar, and rushed off the train. + +The old gentleman shouted from the platform for instructions as to +feeding his pet, 'axed Arturo shouted back advice in broken English +to let it catch "muchos, muchos" (many) flies, and have "mucho, +mucho" air. The toad was in a pasta-board box at present. Arturo was +anxious that it should be well treated, for the boy felt it would +not be fair to make the creature a prisoner, and then sell it to +somebody who would starve it. + +The old gentleman seemed satisfied with the shouted directions. But +when the train had puffed away, Arturo sat down and wrathfully +looked at his quarter of a dollar. + +"He had altos pesos!" Arturo muttered; "ought give four bit." + +According to Arturo's belief, every American had in his possession +"altos pesos," which is Spanish for "high" or "enormous" "dollars," +or, as Americans say, "a pile of money." Therefore Arturo felt sure +that the old gentleman ought to have given half a dollar for the +horned toad. + +Arturo was now not at all inclined to give tia Marta the twenty-five +cents. He wanted the money himself. Tia Marta was going to wash for +somebody to-day, and would get her pay. + +What should he buy? Twenty-five cents must not be spent lightly. It +was not so often that a horned toad was found or sold. + +Arturo did not muse long alone. Another boy had heard Arturo's +shouted advice to the old gentleman, and had told two or three +comrades. They came about Arturo to proffer advice. "Bollos," or +cakes, were joyfully suggested, but Arturo refused. + +An older Spanish boy, Manuel, joined the company. He was a lazy +fellow, whom a good many of the younger boys admired because he +could play a guitar and because he wore cheap jewelry that seemed +gorgeous to inexperienced eyes. + +Manuel approved of Arturo's rejection of the cake proposition. What +good was cake? It would be soon eaten and gone! + +Manuel, who was ever bent on securing any money that he could obtain +without work, proposed to Arturo that he should buy a certain watch- +chain owned by himself. Manuel, who knew that the showy thing was +worthless, tried to picture how a fine-looking boy like Arturo would +appear with so gorgeous an ornament. The younger boys listened +enviously, and Arturo's Spanish love of display began to glow. Yet +he was cautious enough to put off Manuel till the next day. Arturo +went away, leaving the younger boys gazing enviously after him. His +pride was flattered. + +As Arturo came into the little yard that was about his humble home, +he heard tia Marta singing. Arturo always dreaded to hear her sing, +because then he was sure that some calamity had occurred. Tia Marta +fully believed in the Spanish saying, "He who sings frightens away +his ills." + +It was as Arturo thought. Tia Marta had failed to get the day's +washing she had expected to have. This seemed very unfortunate, for +there was but little in the house to eat. Beans, one of the main +staples of food among the Mexicans, were almost gone from the +household supplies, and there was no money to buy more. Tia Marta +had cooked the last of the beans for supper. The uncle and aunt gave +fully half the beans to Arturo, and, being hungry, he ate them. Tia +Marta ate little, and urged the rest of the beans on tio Diego. + +After supper, the aunt repeated with devout cheerfulness those +Spanish sayings, "God sends the sore, and knows the medicine," and +"God sends the cold according to our rags." She believed that God +would help. + +Arturo thought of the twenty-five cents in his pocket. He looked at +old tio Diego. Arturo wondered if his uncle were really hungry. +Beans! Twenty-five cents would buy beans enough for a number of +days. But it would be such a downfall to buy only beans with that +twenty-five cents! Tia Marta would probably find some washing soon, +and would buy beans herself. Arturo had had enough supper to-night. + +Next day Arturo bought the watch-chain. The little boys at school +were overawed by his showy ornament, but the teacher thought +laughingly, "How these Spanish do like to dress up!" + +At night, when Arturo went home with his watch-chain hidden in his +pocket, tia Marta was singing again. There was only a little bread +and some dried figs for supper, and Arturo's healthy boyish appetite +already began to make him sorry for his bargain. + +The next day tia Marta sang, and there were only dried figs to eat +all day. The next day there were figs for breakfast and figs at +noon. Even dried figs were almost gone. + +At night, however, tia Marta said joyfully, "I got wash to-morrow!" + +Arturo felt relieved. + +The next morning there were only two or three figs apiece. When +Arturo came home at noon, he found frightened tio Diego crying +feebly and leaning over tia Marta, who had sunk in the door-way. +Scantily fed tia Marta's strength had given out in the midst of the +washing. She said she was only dizzy, but Arturo was frightened by +her looks. Suddenly it came to him that he loved her. + +Arturo ran out of the house. He ran to a little grocery, and begged +the grocer to take the watch-chain for some beans. The grocer only +laughed, telling the boy the chain was worthless. But Arturo was +desperate. He knew better than to go to Manuel. Manuel would have +spent the twenty-five cents long ago, and Arturo pleaded with the +grocer. The grocer's wife was in and out, looking after her romping +children. She held the worthless, gaudy chain before her black-eyed +baby, who clutched it and laughed. The mother laughed, too. Her +husband laughed. The baby kept the chain, and crowed. + +The grocer's wife filled a big paper bag with beans, and gave it, +with a loaf of bread, to Arturo. The boy clasped the packages, and +ran. + +At home he found tia Marta sitting still with shut eyes. + +"Eat!" cried Arturo, thrusting the loaf into her hands. + +Tio Diego laughed with joy and put the beans to cooking. Arturo +stayed home from school that afternoon, and helped wash. To-morrow +the pay would come. Tio Diego tried lamely to help Arturo wash. + +Tia Marta was feeling better, and had just declared her intention of +washing, when Arturo suddenly forsook the tub and dropped beside +her. + +"Me malo, malo!" (bad) he sobbed. + +He cried bitterly, and told tia Marta about the watch-chain. + +Old tia Marta looked pityingly at her shamefaced nephew. + +"Poor child!" she said, "thou art young." + +But when next day the school teacher asked Arturo the reason of his +absence from school the previous afternoon, and he had confessed the +whole story, the teacher said, "Arturo, it is more beautiful to have +a heart of love toward others than it is to wear a watch-chain even +of real gold. Will you remember that?" + +Arturo promised, and the teacher said to herself: + +"I will see that tia Marta does not come to such straits again." + + + + +COMALE'S REVENGE + + +The Waves splashed on the bold rocks that guard the little harbor +of Colombo on the southwest shore of the island of Ceylon. Groves of +palm trees looked down on the one-story houses of the town. Upon a +rock outside of Colombo stood a barefoot boy, his dark eyes gazing +toward the tropically green mountains of the island. His attention +was particularly riveted on one of the highest peaks, that one which +is known to English-speaking people as "Adam's Peak," and which is +reverenced by natives as being the traditional spot from which +Buddha ascended to heaven. + +"The butterflies are making their pilgrimage to the holy footprint," +murmured the boy, Comale, to himself. + +He could see from his standpoint great streams of butterflies, +taking their flight apparently from all parts of the island, and +going toward the famous Peak. These flights of butterflies, +occurring occasionally in Ceylon, have won for the butterflies +themselves the name of "Samanaliya," since it is thought that the +heathen god, Saman, left his footprint on the mountain, and the +butterflies, like devout beings, take pains to go on pilgrimage to +the holy footprint. + +Comale himself knew better than to believe in this old heathen tale, +yet he never saw the myriads of flying butterflies without +remembering what he had been taught in his earlier years, before +Christianity came under the high-pitched roof where Comale's father +and mother lived. + +Long time did Comale stand on the rock and gaze at the vast numbers +of flying, winged "pilgrims." The butterflies seemed countless, and +at last Comale, sighing a little, said, "They are very good," and, +jumping from his rock, made haste toward the cinnamon gardens where +he worked. + +Comale was a "peeler." In the perfectly white soil around the city +of Colombo, the cinnamon tree flourishes as well as, if not better +than, in any other place in the world. It requires much practice to +become a skillful peeler of cinnamon, but Comale, having been taught +by his father, and being moreover a careful, observing lad, was fast +attaining a degree of success in his trade. Formerly the Cingalese +had allowed the cinnamon trees to grow to their natural height, +about twenty or thirty feet, and naturally the cinnamon bark from +such trees had been tough. This was long ago, however, before even +the Dutch owned Colombo. Better wisdom came with them, and in these +later days of English rule, sensible ideas still prevailed. The +cinnamon trees were kept pruned, and the comparatively young shoots +were found to produce better cinnamon than old trees had done. + +Comale, arriving at the gardens, began to work. The branches he +chose for cutting were about three feet long and were the growth of +from three to five years. + +Comale made longitudinal cuts in the bark, two cuts in a small +shoot, more cuts in a large shoot, and then with his instrument +carefully removed the bark strips. + +He placed the pieces of bark in bundles, in which shape the cinnamon +was to stay for a while, that it might ferment, so that the outer +skin and the under green portion might be more easily scraped away +by Comale with a curved knife. After that, the inner cinnamon bark +would dry and draw up, till the pieces looked like quills. But ever, +as Comale worked this day, something inly disturbed his thoughts. He +was very unhappy. + +"Comale," warned his father sharply, "that was a bad cut! Be more +careful!" + +Comale's father was attending to some bark that had dried to quills. +He was putting small cinnamon quills into larger ones, till he made +a collection about forty inches long. Then he would bind the +cinnamon into bundles by pieces of split bamboo. But Comale's father +kept an eye on his son's work, also. + +Comale was much abashed at his father's reproof. For a time the lad +kept his mind upon the cinnamon. Then his thoughts went back to +their old uncomfortable vein, for he found in a tree a little bundle +of sticks from four to six inches long, all the sticks placed +lengthwise, the whole looking like a small bunch of firewood. Comale +knew what this bundle was, well enough, for many a time he had found +this kind of a nest of the larva of a moth. He knew it was lined +with fine spun silk, and that the heathen people said that the moth +used once to be a real person who stole wood, and who, having died, +came back to earth again in the form of a moth, condemned, for the +former theft, to make little bunches of firewood. Comale sighed as +he touched the little bundle hanging from the tree. + +He thought of the "good" butterflies that he had that morning seen +going on "pilgrimage." + +"Some people are good, and some people are bad," thought Comale +sadly. "The butterflies go on pilgrimage, but the bad moth's little +bundle of firewood hangs in the tree. I wish I did not always do +something bad!" + +Ordinarily he would not have cared for the acts of either moth or +butterfly, but to-day there was in Comale's heart a sense of guilt +that found accusation from unwonted sources. + +"Comale!" warned his father again, "another false cut!" + +Tears of mortification sprang to the lad's eyes. Never had ha seemed +to himself to be so awkward a peeler. It was something beside +awkwardness that ailed Comale's hand to-day. He was worrying over +the possible consequences of a deed of his. + +That morning, he and his sister Pidura, who was about his own age, +had quarreled. They did not quarrel as often now as they used to +before Pidura and he knew anything about the way to be a Christian. +They tried to be patient, usually, but this morning there had been a +sharp quarrel between the two about the rice for breakfast. After +breakfast, Comale, still feeling very angry, had gone into the +veranda that each one-story house possesses. This veranda was +overshadowed by the high-pitched roof, and while, inside the house, +there was matting on the floor, as in Cingalese houses, the veranda +had a rough material made from the husks of the cocoanut. This +material was so placed as to prevent serpents from crawling into the +house. Ceylon has many serpents, and Pidura, Comale's sister, was +very much afraid of them. As Comale, yet very angry with his sister, +stood in the veranda, it occurred to him that if he pulled away some +of the rough cocoanut material, he might leave a place where a +serpent could come into the house and scare Pidura. It would be good +enough for her, he thought; and not pausing to reason about the +consequences of his action, he pulled away the rough material till +he left quite a space undefended. He did not believe that Padura +would notice it. + +He could see her, busy in the kitchen, which is a house separate +from a Cingalese dwelling. Her plump, pleasant face bent over the +fire, and then again she turned away, her light jacket and striped +skirt vanishing toward another corner of the kitchen. Comale half +laughed as he thought how scared she would be if a little serpent +should find the opening he had made. Then he ran away. + +But now, since beginning his day's work, his quarrel and the +possible consequences of his misdeed had begun to weigh heavily on +Comale's conscience, and had lent an accusing tongue to nature. So +true is it that a guilty conscience finds censure where a heart that +is at peace with God and man would find no reproving reminder. + +Comale could not go home till nightfall, and all day his worry +increased. Why had he done so wicked a thing? The quarrel over the +trouble about the rice looked so little, now! If a poisonous snake +should find that opening, and should creep in, and strike his +mother, or Pidura, or the little brother, or, the baby! It was +dreadful to think of! Why had he blindly followed his anger? Had he +not often heard that he who would be a Christian must forgive +others? Instead of forgiving Pidura, he had done something that +perhaps might kill her. + +"Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, +even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven you." It was what the +missionary had said. + +"I ought to have forgiven Pidura!" Comale's heart cried. "Oh, I am +bad, bad! How can I bear it, to wait till I can go home to see if +all is safe?" + +Naturally, Comale's work was not done well, to-day. But he cared +little for criticism of his peeling, when at evening the time came +to go home. He ran all the way. He plunged headlong into the street +where he lived. He ran past the tile-roofed houses. There was his +home's veranda with bunches of bananas hanging in the shade, and a +basket of cocoa-nuts below. Comale hastened in, out of breath, yet +trying to act as if nothing ailed him. Pidura was safe! He saw her. +He found his mother and the baby in another room. Comale drew a long +breath, and tried to stop trembling. His little brothers were in the +street. + +It was growing dusk, and another fear beset him. If a serpent had +crawled into the house, the creature might have hidden itself, and +might not come out till sometime in the night. Comale guiltily +slipped into the veranda again. The unprotected portion had not been +discovered. It lay exposed as he had left it. + +As well as he could, Comale replaced the cocoanut-husk material, so +that it might be a defense as before. Then he went softly around +within the house, hunting for any possible hiding-place where the +enemy he dreaded might be concealed. + +"Comale," said his mother, "what are you doing?" And Comale did not +dare to hunt any more. + +He was dreadfully miserable as he lay that night in the darkness. He +could not sleep. He listened for any outcry. To think that he might +have let an enemy into his own home! Comale rose upon his elbow to +listen. The walls of Cingalese houses are not carried up to the +roof, and, because of this, an outcry or conversation in one room +can be heard all over the house. Comale listened. Sometimes he +fancied he heard the sound of something slipping over the matting on +the floor. So worried was he that when he slept it was only by short +naps from which he woke with a start, and resumed his listening. + +Toward morning, when light began to come, Comale crept from his +place. He looked toward where his little brothers slept. Hanging +above one of the little boys was a slender dark line. It was alive! +It swayed to and fro in the shadows, and seemed to slip a little +lower toward the sleeping child. Comale started. He sprang forward +with a cry, and caught the swaying thing. But it was no living +creature that Comale brought with him to the floor. It was only a +long, thin strip of bamboo with which Comale's father had intended +to bind cinnamon bark! The strip had been hung up out of the way, +and had swung a little in the current of air between the top of the +wall and the roof. As the bamboo strip swayed, it had gradually +slipped lower and lower toward the sleeping little boy below. + +Comale's outcry had aroused the household; and without reserve the +penitent lad told to the family the story of his misdeed. His dark- +faced father smiled slightly and showed his teeth through his beard. +He understood now the mistakes Comale had made in the cinnamon work +the previous day. + +"A wrong heart makes corundoo peeling go ill, Comale," he said +gravely. + +"Corundoo" is the native word for cinnamon. + +"A wrong heart makes rice-cooking go ill, too," softly confessed +Pidura. "I am sorry for yesterday's rice! It was I who made Comale's +heart angry." + +The father looked from one child to the other. + +"Little children, love one another," he said. + + + + +AT THE PANADERIA. + + +The door of the "panaderia" opened. Americans would have called the +place a bakery, but the sign said "Panaderia," which might be +interpreted "breadery" or bake-house. All California does not read +English, and it behooves shop-keepers sometimes to word their signs +for the customers desired. In like manner the "Restaurante +Mexicana," across the street, on a sign advertised "comidas," or +meals, at twenty-five and fifty cents. + +Through the panaderia doorway came a girl and a boy. They walked +along by the "zanja," or irrigation ditch, that here bordered the +road. The fern-leaved pepper trees beside the zanja were dotted with +clusters of small, bright red berries. + +"Rosa," said the boy, when the two had walked a little way, "I saw +in that big yard many purple and green grapes, spread out drying for +raisins." + +Rosa did not answer. She trudged on, carrying her basket of bread. +The brother carried a loaf in brown paper. He and she lived at the +panaderia, and had set forth to carry the bread to the two regular +customers. + +"Rosa," stated the boy again, after a pause, "all the little oranges +on the trees over there are green." + +Rosa did not even look toward the oranges. + +"Rosa," affirmed the boy emphatically, when a few minutes had gone +by, "the Chinese doctor is measuring a window in his house! See! He +has some little teacups and a teapot in his front room! I saw them +just now." + +Rosa looked absently toward the old building, inside a window of +which was visible the head of the Chinese doctor, who wore black +goggles, and who was indeed measuring his window for some reason. +Rosa had small hope of the Chinese doctor as a future customer. She +had seen him eating his rice with chop-sticks, and he never came to +buy a scrap of bread or anything else. Rosa sighed to think what +would become of the panaderia, if all the world had the same opinion +as the Chinese doctor, in regard to eating. In these days Rosa was +in danger of looking upon the world from a strictly calculating +standpoint, and of regarding only those people as worthy of her +interest who either were or might become customers of the panaderia. +Still indeed customers were needed, for the receipts had been +slight, lately, and Rosa's grandmother's parrot, Papagayo, a bird of +such understanding that he had learned to screech, "Pan por dinero," +(bread for money) had recently seen more of the former than of the +latter in the shop. + +Rosa and her brother still kept by the zanja, even when it turned +away from the road. They went on till they reached the orange +orchard of the Zanjero of the town. The Zanjero is the man who has +the oversight of the irrigation system, and he has deputies under +him. Rosa and her brother Joseph thought the Zanjero a great man, +and stood much in awe of the irrigation laws concerning stealing +water, or raising a gate to waste water, or giving water to persons +outside the district. + +The two bread-carriers went through the orange orchard, which was +not being irrigated at this hour, for the Zanjero was particular +himself to keep the hour that he paid for, as other men should be. +Up to the Zanjero's house Rosa now carried the bread, and his wife +herself paid for it. Rosa tied the coins carefully in one corner of +the black shawl that she wore over her head. + +"Rosa," anticipated Joseph aloud, as they went away through the +orange orchard again, "when I am grown up, I shall be a Zanjero, and +we will not have to keep the panaderia!" + +But Rosa looked unbelieving. "It is not granted every man to be the +Zanjero," returned she gravely, "and I love the panaderia." + +It was true. She did love it, even to the castor-oil plants that +grew like weeds in neglected places in the yard, and down to the +south wall that was hung with a thick veil of red peppers that her +grandmother was drying in the sun. It was only because the panaderia +had not enough customers that Rosa looked so grave to-day. Besides, +the grandmother's birthday was near, and where was money for a +present? + +At the other house where the children regularly delivered bread, +irrigation had been going on all the morning. The half-day of +irrigation, for which the owner of this orange orchard had paid, was +just over, and the water-gate connecting the man's ditch with the +main zanja was being shut when Rosa and Joseph arrived. The little +water-gate was like a wooden shovel. It slid down some grooves, and +the running water stopped. It squirmed in the zanja an instant. Then +the little wooden gate was fastened with a padlock, as every gate +must be when the payer for water had received from the Zanjero's +deputy the amount of water paid for, whether by the fifty-cent-hour, +or the two-dollar-day, or the dollar-and-a-quarter night rate, and +whoever unauthorized should unfasten the padlock and open the gate +would be a thief of water. + +After witnessing the shutting off of the water, Joseph carried his +paper-enfolded loaf to the house of this second regular customer, +and then the children turned homeward toward the panaderia. + +"Pan por dinero!" cried the parrot, Papagayo, when Rosa and Joseph +reentered the panaderia; but alas! no customers were there. Only the +grandmother sat sewing behind the counter, her blurred old eyes +close to the cloth she held. + +"I will take care of the panaderia now, grandmother," Rosa offered; +and the grandmother answered, "I will rest a little, then." + +The poor, dear grandmother! She was so tired and thin, nowadays, and +her hands trembled so much! It was hard for her to try to sew. If +the panaderia paid better, if there were more regular customers to +whom Rosa and Joseph could carry eatables, then the grandmother +would not attempt sewing at all, for it strained her eyes very much. +But now she did not know what else to do. There must be a living for +herself and the children someway. + +Rosa found the afternoon long, sitting behind the counter, waiting +for customers and trying to sew. A little boy came in and bought a +loaf. Two girls bought another. Then the panaderia door ceased to +swing, and the quiet afternoon went on. Across the street, women +stood here and there and gossiped. + +Nobody came. It grew four, then five, then six o'clock. Finally the +panaderia door opened, and a woman entered. Rosa sprang up. Here was +a customer, at last! + +But the woman only came to the counter, and stood still. She was +young, very thin and ill, evidently, and her eyes had tears in their +depths. Under the black shawl that was over the newcomer's head Rosa +spied a dark mark, as of a bruise, on the forehead. The young woman +tried to speak. + +"I have three little children," she said. "I am sick. I cannot work, +and their father drinks mescal--always mescal. I have no money. Will +you give me a little bread? I am no beggar, but my babies are so +hungry!" + +Rosa knew how much harm mescal (a kind of intoxicating drink made +from the maguey or Mexican aloe) did among the neighbors. She did +not doubt the woman's tale; only it was disappointing, when one +thought a real customer had at last come to the panaderia, to find +that it was not so. But the girl nodded sympathetically at the +conclusion of the young woman's appeal. + +"I will speak to grandmother," she promised. + +She found her grandmother lying down still, but half awake, and +explained to her the situation. + +"Yes, yes," returned the grandmother, her wrinkled face full of +sympathy. "Give her the bread. Has not the Lord told us to care for +the poor? He would not be pleased if we sent her away without bread. +Tell the poor woman to come again. The little children, must be +fed." + +Rosa hurried back to the counter, and gave the woman two fresh +loaves and the grandmother's message. + +"Gracias!" (thanks) sobbed the young woman and hurried away. + +"I hope she will not tell that we gave her bread," murmured Rosa to +herself as the usual quiet settled over the panaderia. "We can't +afford to give bread to many people." + +The weeks went by, and the panaderia did not prosper very well. It +grew to be a customary thing for the thin, sick woman to come daily +for bread, and she was never refused. She said with a sensitive +eagerness that when she was well again she would work and pay all +back, and Rosa's grandmother answered "Yes," cheerily, to this +promise, though any one who looked at the poor young mother's face +could see that there was small prospect of her ever being well again +in this world. Her husband still drank. + +Times grew harder and harder at the panaderia. In the midst of the +winter a heavy blow fell, for the Zanjero's wife took a fancy to +making her own bread, and as she was the regular customer who bought +more loaves and paid more promptly than the other, the panaderia +felt the loss keenly. Customers were very scarce, and the +grandmother's eyes became so weak that she could no longer sew. Rosa +sewed the little that she could, but some days there was scarcely +enough to eat at the panaderia, except the very few loaves in the +case--the loaves that the three hardly knew whether to dare eat or +not, for fear some one should come in and want to buy. There were +many other people who were poor and without work, and the little +family kept their troubles to themselves. The poor sick neighbor +always came every day and was given bread. Winter passed and spring +arrived without much change in the panaderia's prospects. + +"We could have eaten that ourselves," thought Rosa one night when +the neighbor went out with the bread. + +The grandmother had said that the poor were God's care, and he would +bless those who for his sake fed them. + +"But we keep on being poorer and poorer," thought Rosa with a sigh. + +Then she reproached herself. Had not her grandmother said that the +Lord cared about the panaderia? One day when spring was turning into +summer, the poor neighbor came in earlier than usual. Her face was +very white. Rosa and her grandmother were both by the counter. The +grandmother smiled and was about to draw out the bread and give it +to the woman. But the poor neighbor dropped her head on the counter, +and stretched out her hand toward the old grandmother. The +grandmother took the hand, and lo! in her own lay a little key. + +"Take it to the Zanjero!" sobbed the sick neighbor," and tell him to +forgive! It was the mescal made my husband do it!" + +Little by little Rosa and her grandmother pieced together the story +of the small key. Some unscrupulous persons wished to obtain water +for irrigation without paying for it. A key was made that fitted the +padlocks of the little wooden gates leading from the zanja. By night +some one must open these gates and close them again before morning. +It was thieving, of course, and the Zanjero or his deputies might +catch the person who did it. But the sick neighbor's husband, +wanting money to buy more mescal, had been induced to undertake the +task of stealthily opening the gates. His wife, suspicious of his +errand, had followed him on the first night of his attempt. She had +seen him stop by a Mexican cactus, and raise something, she knew not +what, in the zanja. After he had gone, she went to the spot and +putting her hand into the water felt the current that ran through a +gate he had opened. + +"Then I know!" tearfully declared the woman to Rosa's grandmother. +"I follow my husband. I tell him the Zanjero is the friend of the +good panaderia that gives the bread! I tell him he shall not open +the other gates! I snatch the key! I tell him `No! No! The panaderia +is my friend! The Zanjero is the panaderia's friend!' He shall not +cheat the Zanjero! My husband say if he open other gates he get +money for mescal. I say 'No!' I run away with key. My husband say, +'Don't tell anybody! I will not open the gates again! Let other men +do it.' But I say, 'I must tell, because the Zanjero is the best +friend of the panaderia. No one shall cheat the best friend of the +panaderia, that feeds our babies so long--all winter and now." + +Evidently the woman supposed that the Zanjero was still the +principal regular customer of the panaderia. Rosa and her +grandmother had never told about his ceasing to buy bread, and the +neighbor thought that he was still considered their very chief +customer. + +That evening Rosa and Joseph took the long-unused path to the +Zanjero's house. His wife came to the door. + +"Oh," she said, "it's the two little bread-bringers! No, I don't +want any bread. Are you trying to get orders?" + +"May I see the Zanjero?" asked Rosa gravely. + +The Zanjero's wife, whose name in plain English was Mrs. Craig, led +the two children into her husband's presence. Rosa, very pale with +the thought of being in the presence of so great a man, told her +story in trembling tones, and held out the key. + +The Zanjero took it, and looked at it curiously. + +"Will you forgive?" asked Rosa timorously. "The poor, sick woman +asks you to forgive. She says it was the mescal that made her +husband do it." + +"I presume so," returned the man grimly. "They're all thieves." + +But the Zanjero's wife was wiser than her husband. She dropped into +a chair and put an arm around Rosa. + +"You have not told all the story yet, or else I do not understand," +she said gently. "What makes this woman so much your friend that she +comes and tells your grandmother about the key?" + +So the whole story came out at last--about the long, sad winter at +the panaderia; the grandmother's attempts at sewing; her failing +eyes; the lack of customers, yet the daily giving of bread to the +poor neighbor and her three children; the trust that the Lord knew +about the panaderia and its occupants. + +The Zanjero's wife understood it all now. She looked up at her +husband. There were tears in her eyes as she said: + +"While you are forgiving that man, you'd better think how much +forgiveness I need for having stopped taking bread of the panaderia +in the heart of winter, when they needed the money so badly! To +think of their struggling along, and yet giving bread every day to a +woman and three babies! If the panadeiia folks had not done this, +you'd never have found out about this plan to rob the zanja! That +woman would simply have kept the story and the key to herself, and +those dishonest men would have found somebody else to open the gates +at night for them. It was only because she thought that you were a +noted customer of the panaderia that she sent you word of this plan +to steal the water." + +The great Zanjero turned and looked at Rosa. + +"Tell that sick woman," he said gravely, "that I forgive her husband +for opening the gate, though I don't know how much water he helped +steal that night. Tell her, though, that he must never do such a +thing again. I am coming to see him myself, and I shall tell him he +is forgiven. But he must stop drinking mescal." + +"And tell your grandmother," broke in the Zanjero's wife, "that I +want three loaves of bread to-morrow morning, and I want bread every +day. Here's the money for the three loaves. And I'm going to get you +a lot of regular customers! I have friends enough. They'll take +bread of you, if I ask them. You poor children! Why didn't you come +and tell me about things, long ago?" + +So it was that the mercy which the old grandmother showed to the +sick neighbor and her children returned in blessing on the +panaderia. For the Zanjero's wife rested not till she had fulfilled +her promise. Customers became many and well-paying, and the old +grandmother, happy in the prosperity, said to Rosa and to Joseph: + +"See you, my children? Did I not tell you that the Lord knew about +the panaderia? It is he who sends all this good to us who deserve it +not." + + + + +MISS STRATTON'S PAPER + + +The wind was blowing quite keenly from the north, and Miss Stratton +had the collar of her coat turned up, as she hurried through the +darkness of the avenue. She was talking behind her coat collar, the +tips of which brushed her lips. If what Miss Stratton said had been +audible to any one beside herself, it would have sounded as if she +were talking severely to somebody. + +"I don't see why you can't throw that evening paper where we can +find it!" Miss Stratton was saying under her breath. "We have a +broad walk, and there's plenty of room! I've been out in the yard +three or four times to-night, and hunted thoroughly, and mother's +been out once. Mother's eyes are poor, and she likes to have the +paper before dark." + +Miss Stratton caught her breath in the cold wind. She hastened by a +gas-lamp, climbed the hill, and found her way in darkness up the +long steps of a house. She fumbled for the bell and rang it. There +was a little stir within, the opening of an interior door to let +light into the hall, and then a boy's step. The front door opened. +Miss Stratton looked straight into the boyish face that appeared. + +"I want to know where you threw our paper to-night," she demanded. +"I can't find it anywhere." + +The boy stepped one side so that the light within the farther room +might fall on Miss Stratton's face. He recognized her. + +"Oh," returned the boy, "your paper went up a tree." + +"Up a tree!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, indignantly. "Why didn't you +come in and tell me, so I'd know where to look for it?" + +"If I'd had an extra copy with me, I'd have thrown in another," said +the boy--"I'll get you one." + +He walked back into the sitting-room, glad to escape from the +accusing subscriber, whom he had not expected to see following him +to his home. Miss Stratton sternly waited. The boy's sister had come +into the hall, and was holding a candle for a light. Her brother +came back with the evening paper, and Miss Stratton took it. + +"I wish you'd be careful where you throw that paper, Harry," she +admonished him, her indignation cooling. "I've spoken to you about +that before. I don't like to have to come away up here for the +paper. It isn't convenient." + +"Yes'm," answered the boy. + +Miss Stratton hurried home. When she arrived there, one of the first +things she saw gleaming faintly through the garden's darkness, was +the missing evening paper that Harry had thrown into a pepper tree +near the side fence. During Miss Stratton's absence, the strong wind +had shaken the paper down, and it lay at the foot of the tree. "How +did he suppose I was going to find that paper up that tree?" +questioned Miss Stratton. "I did look up there before dark, but I +didn't see anything." + +The evening paper was easily discoverable for a week or so after +this: Then matters went back to their old state and Miss Stratton +frequently spent a quarter of an hour finding her evening paper. + +"If he'd take the slightest pains he could throw it on this walk +that is ten feet wide!" she would tell herself indignantly, as she +pushed aside the branches of blue marguerites and the leaves of +calla-lilies, and peered into holes on either side of the steps near +the front gate, where the watering of the garden had washed away the +soil. + +Miss Stratton had liked Harry very much, when he first became paper +boy. He had a frank manner that made him friends. At first he +carefully threw the paper on Miss Stratton's front piazza. He never +skipped an evening, as the former paper boy had sometimes done, and +Miss Stratton rejoiced that at last a paper boy who was reliable had +been found for the route. Months had passed, and while Harry was as +careful at some houses as before, Miss Stratton's was not among that +number. Harry had three 'customers on that street and he nightly +walked only as far toward Miss Stratton's as would enable him to +throw her paper and then, with two or three steps, throw another +paper to the neighbor diagonally across the street. A few more steps +would have made Harry sure that Miss Stratton's paper fell every +night squarely on the broad front path, but he "fired the paper at +her," as he expressed it, and the result was Miss Stratton's +otherwise unnecessary number of steps hunting after her paper. Yet +Harry would have scorned to cheat any customer. He fulfilled the +letter of the law. He delivered the paper. + +Late one afternoon the minister and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Landler, +came by invitation to take supper with Mrs. and Miss Stratton. After +a while, as they sat, pleasantly chatting, Mr. Landler spoke of a +ship that had been overdue for almost two weeks. A neighbor's son +was on board, and this fact caused Mr. and Mrs. Landler to look at +the papers, morning and night, as soon as possible, to ascertain if +anything had been heard of the missing vessel. + +"That's what my daughter and I have been doing, too," returned Mrs. +Stratton. "I wonder if this evening's paper hasn't come, so we could +look?" + +Her daughter glanced at the clock. + +"Why, yes!" said she. "That paper ought to have come before now." + +Miss Stratton went out and hunted carefully. No paper was visible, +search as she might. + +"Perhaps it hasn't come yet," she said to the guests, when she came +in. + +A little later she went out again. Mrs. Landler came to help search, +though Miss Stratton disclaimed the need of aid. + +"The paper doesn't always fall where I can see it," explained Miss +Stratton, mortified at her failure to find the paper for her guests. + +"Who brings it around?" asked Mrs. Landler, looking at the broad +front walk. + +"Harry Butterworth," answered Miss Stratton. + +She did not tell of the annoyance Harry had caused her heretofore. +Harry's mother was a church friend of the Landlers and the +Strattons, and Miss Stratton was loath to expose the boy's +shortcomings. + +No paper appeared, and after a thorough search, Mrs. Landler and +Miss Stratton went into the house. Dusk was coming. Miss Stratton +had occasion to go upstairs for something, and glancing out of the +front hall window, she saw the twisted roll of that evening's paper +lying on a projection of the roof. + +"He threw the paper on the roof!" exclaimed Miss Stratton, "and he +didn't come in to tell me!" + +She pushed up the hall window, and reaching out as far as she dared, +she tried with an old umbrella handle to dislodge the paper. She +drew breathlessly back. + +"It's no use! I can't get it!" she gasped. + +She went downstairs and told her mother quietly, but Mrs. Stratton +had no scruples about informing her guests what had happened. + +"That boy's thrown this evening's paper on the roof!" stated old +Mrs. Stratton. "He does put us to so much trouble!" + +The minister instantly offered to climb the roof. Miss Stratton and +her mother protested, but Mr. Landler took off his coat, climbed out +of an upper-story window, and secured the paper. In one column was a +notice that the missing ship had been heard from and was safe. Great +was the rejoicing around the Strattons' supper-table that their +friend's son was not lost. + +The next time Mr. Landler saw Harry, the minister said pleasantly, +"You gave me quite a climb the other night, my boy." + +Harry looked astonished. + +"Gave you a climb?" he questioned. "I gave you one?" + +"Yes," nodded Mr. Landler. "Miss Stratton's evening paper fell on +her roof. My wife and I were taking supper there, so I climbed the +roof for the paper." + +Harry turned very red. Was ever a paper boy so unfortunate? He knew +the paper fell on the roof, but who would have supposed Mr. Landler +was at the Strattons'? Harry wanted very much to be thought well of +by the minister and his wife. Everybody liked them. + +"I didn't know you were there," apologized Harry, hardly knowing +what to say. + +"No," said the minister, gently, "we never know who may be in any +home. You didn't know you were delivering the paper to me. You +thought it was to Miss Stratton. Wasn't that it?" + +"Yes," acknowledged the boy. + +"If the Lord Jesus were here on earth, Harry," went on the minister +in a very grave, tender tone, "and if he wanted a little service +from you, you wouldn't render it in the way you deliver Miss +Stratton's paper, would you? Yet she is his child, one of his +representatives on earth, and as you treat her you treat him. +'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these,' you +know, Harry." + +The next night Miss Stratton's paper fell with an emphatic thwack in +the middle of the front walk. The next night it did the same, and +the next, and the next. + +"What has changed that boy?" wondered Miss Stratton with grateful +relief, as weeks passed and the paper still fell in plain sight. + +She did not know that as Harry carefully aimed his papers, the boy +thought, "'Ye have done it unto me.'" + + + + +AN HONEST DAY'S WORK. + + +Willis walked down one of the city wharves. He was going to see his +father, Mr. Sutherland, who was one of the men employed by the State +Harbor Commissioners in repairing wharves. The piles that supported +the wharves often needed renewing, being eaten by teredos. Sometimes +the flooring of the wharves sagged and needed restoring to the +former level. + +Willis liked to see the pile-driver with its big hammer. He marveled +at the air-pumps with which sagging wharves were raised. Perhaps +three air-pumps at a time would be stationed over as many "caps," as +the twelve-inch timbers under the wharf's flooring were called. The +pumps, being worked, would raise the caps and hold them until blocks +could be shoved underneath. Then the pumps were worked some more, +and other blocks put under, till the wharf was restored to the +required level. Great screws such as are used in raising buildings +were also employed under wharves sometimes. There were rocks under +some wharves, and water was under others. Whichever it was, Willis' +father often had to go under the wharves and climb around among the +caps and stringers and piles, repairing. + +Seven or eight other men were employed like Mr. Sutherland. It was +mid-forenoon, but Willis saw that three or four of the men were not +working. They were idling around the engine of the pile-driver, and +were eating something that Willis found to be cooked crabs. + +"Where's father?" asked Willis. "Under the wharf, working," answered +one man. "He thinks the State's looking after him every minute." + +Willis saw some planks had been taken up in a distant part of the +wharf's flooring. He went there and swung himself down under the +wharf. There were rocks there, and Willis, following the sound of a +hammer, came to his father. + +"That you, Willis?" asked his father pleasantly. + +"Pa," said the boy, "some of the other men are up there eating +crabs. Why don't you go up and get some, too?" + +"It isn't lunch-time," returned Mr. Sutherland. "We're expected to +work now." + +"Three or four of the men aren't working," said Willis. + +"No," rejoined his father. "Several of the men lately have taken to +catching crabs sometimes during work-hours." + +"The men tie a rope to a big twine net, and bait it, and let it out +into the bay. In a little while they haul it in again, and there are +maybe half a dozen big crabs in the net. The men have made a sort of +boiler out of an empty kerosene can with one end cut off. They +attach a hose to the boiler of the engine and fill that can with hot +water. The crabs cook in a short time and those men stop work to +eat. It would be all right if the men cooked the crabs at noon, when +we're allowed to lay off, but they stop in the fore-noon sometimes +an hour, and again in the afternoon sometimes, and eat crabs. The +foreman we have now allows it. He does it himself." + +While Mr. Sutherland talked he was working. Several of the other men +were working up on top of the wharf, as Willis could tell by the +sounds, but the boy's thoughts were with those three or four other +men who were idling. Were not those men employed to work as steadily +as his father? + +"It isn't fair for them to stop and you to have to keep on," +objected Willis. "I should think those, men would be discharged." + +"They may and they mayn't," said his father. "They are appointed by +different Harbor Commissioners, and as long as the Commissioners +don't know, I suppose the men will keep their places." + +"One man told me you thought the State was looking at you every +minute," said Willis. + +"My boy," answered Mr. Sutherland, fitting a block into place, "it's +true that I'm employed to work for the State, and I feel just as +much that I must do honest work for the State as if I were working +for some individual. But it isn't thought of the State that makes me +faithful. A Christian ought to give an honest day's work. Some +people don't seem to think cheating the State is as bad as cheating +another person. But it is." + +Willis climbed upon the wharf again. He saw when the men who had +been eating crabs came back to work. He noticed they did not work +very heartily. + +"My father doesn't work that way," thought the boy. + +"An honest day's work." The words followed Willis as he went away +from the wharf. The next week Willis was going to begin work for a +large dry-goods store. + +"I'll do honest day's work, too," resolved Willis. + +He did not put it into words, but he thought that the One who saw +whether a man under the wharves did an honest day's work would see +whether a boy working for a store did the same. Willis was trying to +be a Christian. + +Busy days Willis had after that. The large dry-goods store had many +customers who often did not wish to carry bundles home. The store +had two pretty, white-covered, small carts for the delivering of +packages. Willis drove one cart and a boy named August drove the +other. + +One afternoon Willis, out delivering dry-goods, drove by the house +where August lived, and saw the store's other cart standing there. + +"August is home," thought Willis. Just then, August came out. + +"Don't tell," called August, laughing. + +Willis, hardly comprehending, drove on about his business. + +That evening at store-closing time, both boys were back with their +receipt books, signed by customers who had received their packages. +The boys went out of the store together. + +"Saw me coming out of our house today, didn't you?" said August to +Willis. + +"Don't you ever stop off half an hour or so, when you're on your +rounds?" + +"Why, no!" answered Willis. "What would they say at the store, if +they knew?" + +"They can't know," asserted August. "I often stop, that way. +Yesterday I went to see my aunt. How can the store tell? They don't +know just how long it will take to deliver all the parcels. Some +folks live farther off than others. Who's going to know?" + +Willis hesitated. He remembered that the thought of the men at the +wharves had been: "Who would know?" Willis had never heard that +anybody had lost his place at the wharves on account of dawdling. +What if August never was found out? Was it right to steal an hour, +or half an hour, of his employer's time? + +"No," thought Willis. "I'm going to be honest." + +Late one afternoon August came into the store. Willis was later +still, because he had had more parcels to deliver. Both boys' +receipt books showed the customers' signatures. + +"There was a big fire up-town," said August secretly to Willis +afterwards. "I stopped to see it before delivering my parcels. You +just ought to have been there!" + +"How long did you stay?" asked Willis, gravely. + +"Oh, I don't know!" returned August. "Three-quarters of an hour, +maybe. I delivered my parcels all right afterwards." + +Willis did not tell anybody about August's actions. + +"I wish he wouldn't tell me about them, either," thought Willis, +uncomfortably. + +That week August was discharged. + +"I happened to be at the fire myself, and saw you," said one of the +store's proprietors to August." The next time you stop to see a +fire, you will not have a chance to keep one of our delivery carts +waiting an hour while you waste your employer's time watching the +firemen. It didn't look well to see our firm's name on that white +cart standing idle, just as if we hadn't many customers." + +"And you were seen once," added the other proprietor," with one of +our carts standing beside an open block, while a ball game was being +played there last week." + +As Willis regretfully saw his companion turned away, there came back +to him the scene in the semi-darkness under the wharf, when his +father said, "A Christian ought to give an honest day's work." "And +I will," he muttered. + + + + +TIMOTEO + + +Two white jaw-bones of a whale stood upright in the sunshine, their +surfaces showing to a near observer numerous small indentations that +caught the dust. The jaw-bones were relics from a little whaling +station that had once been in business near the town. Even now +whales occasionally wander from the great Pacific into the blue bay +on which this old, partly Spanish, California town was situated. + +The two white jaw-bones now served the purpose of gate-posts, and +stood some six feet high beside the front gate that opened into a +garden where red hollyhocks rose higher than the humbled jaw-bones. +Inside the gate, the front walk had long been paved with the +vertebrae of whales, each vertebra being laid separately. + +No one who had not seen such a walk would realize how well whales' +vertebrae will answer for paving. Some of the old vertebrae had now +sunk below the original level of the walk, so that the path by which +a person went to the old adobe house beyond the red hollyhocks was +somewhat uneven as to surface. + +The long, low house was partly roofed with tiles, and the adobe +walls of the dwelling were a yard thick, as any one might see who +looked at the windowsills. + +On one of these broad sills Isabelita leaned, her black eyes fixed +on the bone gate-posts that she could see through the blossoming +hollyhocks. There was a displeased expression on the young girl's +face. She was watching for her brother Timoteo, who would soon come +from school. + +"He must go for the cow tonight," resolved Isabelita aloud in +Spanish. "I will not go! I wish the Americans had never come to this +town! In the old days, my father says, there were no cattle notices +on the trees. My father did not have to go for cows every night!" +And Isabelita frowned as she remembered the notices about letting +cattle run loose upon the highway. + +These Spanish--and--English notices were now nailed on pines here +and there along the roads, and proved a source of inquiry to +wandering Americans who saw the boards with their heading: + +"AVISO!!" + +preceded by two inverted exclamation points and followed by two +others in the upright position--that some Americans have perhaps +been wont to think is the only attitude in which an exclamation +point can stand, Americans not being accustomed to the ease with +which an exclamation point can stand on its head, when used in +Spanish literature. + +But it was not only with cattle notices and Americans that Isabelita +was offended this day. She was in a bad humor, and nothing suited +her. Hence it was in no pleasant voice that she called to Timoteo, +when he at last made his appearance between the bony gate-posts: + +"Hombre bobo, thou must go for the cow tonight!" + +Now, "hombre bobo" means much the same as our word "booby," +therefore this was not a very soothing manner of beginning her +information. To Isabelita's surprise, however, Timoteo answered only +"Yes," and, coming in, put his one book carefully away, and then +went forth for the cow, as he had been bidden. Isabelita stared +after him. She had at least expected a quarrel. + +Isabelita would have been more surprised still, if she could have +seen what Timoteo did after reaching the place in the woods where +the cow was tethered. He threw himself down; crushing the fragrant, +small-leaved vines of "yerba buena" as he fell, and, hiding his +face, Timoteo cried in a half-angry, half-hopeless tumult of +feeling. The pink blossoming thistles nodded, and the cow looked +wonderingly at the lad, but no one else saw or heard him. By and by +he sat up. + +"Teacher never like me any more," he told himself, his lips +quivering. "Americanos tell her my father lazy, my mother no clean. +And I try, I try!" + +He choked down a sob. A new teacher had come to the public school, a +sweet-faced, pleasant-toned young lady, whom Timoteo was ready to +obey devotedly from the first time she smiled on the school. Timoteo +did want to learn to be somebody! He looked with admiration on the +Americans boys' clothes and on an especial blue necktie that Herbert +Page wore. Timoteo wondered how it would seem to have a father who +worked and who provided his family with plenty to wear. The lad +Timoteo meant to be like one of the Americans when he grew up. He +would work, instead of lounging about the streets all day, smoking +"cigarros." + +But alas! That day he had overheard some of the American boy +scholars talking to the teacher about the Spanish ones. + +"There's Timoteo," he overheard Herbert Page say. "You don't want to +have him for your milk-man, Miss Montgomery! I don't believe they +keep the milk pails any too clean at his house. Laziness and dirt go +together in these Spanish houses!" + +Poor Timoteo! He had hoped the teacher and her mother would take +milk of him. Miss Montgomery had almost promised to, before this, +and one customer for milk made such a difference in Timoteo's home +finances! + +"But now she never like me any more," Timoteo hopelessly forewarned +himself, as he sat among the trees, his eyes yet red with crying. +"And I try, I try! I have learned wash my hands clean, when I go +school. And I try so hard learn read and write!" + +Timoteo sighed heavily. He did not hate those American boys who +looked so much nicer than he. He only had a sorrowful, hopeless +feeling as he unfastened the cow and started homeward with her. + +But when the cow lumbered in through the two white, strange gate- +posts at home, she swerved aside a little, and Timoteo saw, standing +under the tall red hollyhocks, his teacher, Miss Montgomery. She had +a bright tin pail in her hand, and she wanted some milk. + +Timoteo's eyes brightened. + +"I go wash my hands clean, clean!" he cried, and, disappearing, came +back a few minutes after, holding out his palms for Miss +Montgomery's inspection. + +She smiled, and gave him the pail. + +"Poor little fellow!" she thought, as she watched him milking. "I'm +afraid some of our American boys don't have charity enough for him." + +Timoteo beamed with happiness as he returned the pail brimming with +milk. He was Miss Montgomery's milkman regularly after that, and +when, on Sundays, Miss Montgomery taught a Sunday-school class of +boys, Timoteo always slipped in and listened, though the teacher +wondered sometimes if the boy could understand. + +There were fair-haired American boys who looked down on Timoteo at +school and who made him feel that a Spanish boy was an inferior. +Sometimes Timoteo almost felt as if some of the Chinese boys, in the +small fishing-village outside the town, were happier than he, for +they did not seem to care to know anything but how to dry nets and +dry fish. Herbert Page was one of the school boys who always felt +superior to Timoteo. Timoteo did not wonder at it. He had a very +humble opinion of himself, yet sometimes he wished Herbert would +only look at him as he passed by. Herbert would not have spoken +rudely to Timoteo. That, Herbert would have considered degrading. He +simply ignored the Spanish boys of the school. + +One Saturday morning, when Timoteo stood on the edge of the cliffs +outside the town, he saw Herbert picking his way out over the long +stretches of rocks to seaward; a basket on his arm and a stick in +his hand. + +"He go to get abalones, and think he can knock them off with a +stick!" laughed Timoteo. + +Herbert had not long lived in this vicinity, and he did not know the +tenacity with which the large, oval-shaped shell, called abalone, or +ear-shell, which is so well known and valued for its beautifully +colored, irridescent lining, clings to the rock when the shell's +inmate is living. At school, the day before, Timoteo had heard +Herbert say that he intended going after abalones on Saturday. + +"He no get any," prophesied Timoteo, gazing after Herbert's +disappearing figure. + +Timoteo himself was out abalone-hunting. This was one of the ways by +which he occasionally earned a few cents, visitors to the town +buying the large shells for curiosities. But Timoteo had with him a +long iron spike with which he intended to urge the abalone-shells +from the rocks. + +The abalone has a large, very strong, white "foot" inside its long +shell, and there is a row of holes in the shell itself. It is +conjectured that the abalone perhaps exhausts the air under the +shell, and so causes the shell to cling more tightly to the rock +than ever, through atmospheric pressure. It is very difficult to +take an abalone from its rocky home, unless the creature is +surprised. + +Timoteo, however, was acquainted with abalones, and made good use of +his weapon. He clambered far out over the wet rocks for hours, +finding abalones now and then, and waging war on these thick, rough +ovals that clung so tightly to the rock, the beautiful colors of the +abalone-shells entirely concealed. Timoteo saw nothing more of +Herbert, during these hours of work. + +Timoteo succeeded in getting three abalones, the last an especially +large shell. He sat down on the rocks to rest, after the long +struggle with this big abalone. The tide was rising. He would go +home soon now. + +While he sat there, it seemed to him that he heard the sound of +outcries. At first he thought it was the gulls. Half in fun he +shouted in reply. The distant cries seemed redoubled. Timoteo caught +up his basket and long spike. He sprang to his feet. + +"Where is it?" he thought, confused with the splash of waves and the +toss of spray. + +He listened. He sped, shouting, over the rocks in the direction from +which the cries seemed to come. He stopped now and then to listen. +Yes, it was a human voice that cried for help. It was not the gulls. + +"Adonde?" (Where?) "Adonde?" shouted Timoteo, forgetting his English +in his excitement. + +The answering shouts grew more distinct. Timoteo climbed over the +wet rocks till he found himself near a place where the sounds seemed +to come from between two rocks. Timoteo saw a boy reach up part way +between the two rocks. The boy could not crawl out. The hole between +the rocks was not big enough. + +"Timoteo!" screamed a voice, and Timoteo recognized Herbert. + +"Say!" Herbert called, "run for help, won't you? I was out here +abalone-hunting, and I guess one of these big rocks must have been +poised just right to topple over. Anyhow, in climbing down here I +managed to topple it. It didn't fall on me, but it fell against the +other rocks so that there isn't room for me to crawl out of here! I +can't make the rock budge, now. And the tide's coming! I thought I'd +drown, away out here, alone. You can't do anything with that spike. +It needs three or four men with levers. Run! The tide's up to my +waist, now! There isn't room between these rocks to crawl out." + +For one moment Timoteo stood still and looked at Herbert. Then the +Spanish boy turned and flew over the rocks. Leaping from one +slippery foothold to another, he rushed toward the cliffs, up the +cliff road, on to the clusters of Chinese huts that made a little +fishing-village by itself on the edge of the bay. Whatever Spanish +or English vocabulary Timoteo used, he aroused two or three Chinamen +to forsake their frames of drying fish and cease tossing over the +other small fish that lay drying on the ground. + +Seizing the long, heavy iron rods with which the Chinese were wont +to go abalone-hunting, the three Celestials followed in Timoteo's +wake toward the place where Herbert anxiously awaited rescue. There +was much prying with the iron rods before the stone was finally +tilted enough so that the drenched prisoner was released. + +"My father pay you," gratefully promised Herbert to the Chinamen, +who nodded and plodded cheerfully back toward their tiny fishing- +village. + +Herbert looked at Timoteo. + +"I'm much obliged to you," said Herbert. "You were good to run for +help." + +But now that Timoteo had seen the success of his helpers, an abashed +silence seemed to have overtaken him. He did not answer. The silence +lasted till the two boys reached the cliffs. Herbert grew uneasy. +His conscience accused him somewhat. + +"Come to my house, Timoteo, and my father will give you something +for helping me," promised Herbert uneasily, as the boys climbed the +cliffs. + +Timoteo shook his head, but he did not look up. + +"See here, Timoteo," burst out Herbert, stopping on top of the +cliffs, "what's the matter? Do you hate me?" + +Timoteo glanced up slowly. His dark eyes were full of appeal. + +"You no talk to teacher any more about me?" he besought. "You no +tell her my father lazy, we no-'count folks?" + +Timoteo's voice shook. He hurried on: "I like teacher. I try be +clean. I wash my hands, my face, all time. I do ver' good to the +teacher. But my mother differ from your mother. Your mother give you +nice clean shirt and clothes. My mother too poor. I try learn, read, +spell. I grow like American boy." + +It was the appeal of a soul that looked from Timoteo's eyes. Herbert +flushed. + +"Why, you poor fellow, of course you try!" he answered heartily. "I- +-I'm sorry if I've ever said anything to the teacher that made you +feel badly, Timoteo. I won't do it again, and the other boys +sha'n't, either! The teacher knows how hard you try. She said the +other day that you were a good boy. Come on up to our house. Won't +you?" + +But Timoteo smiled, and shook his head, and went away on the long +road that led toward home. The heart of the Spanish boy was very +happy. He had done good to his enemy, and that enemy was turned into +a friend. And the teacher had said that Timoteo was a good boy! She +knew how hard he tried! + +Timoteo sang for joy as he ran. + +"I will learn! I will learn! I shall be like los Americanos!" he +sang, and then he remembered how he had been tempted for one instant +not to help Herbert. Timoteo shivered at the remembered temptation. +He sang again for very joy at having been helped to forgive his +enemy. + +In the pines Timoteo stopped, and looked upward through the swaying +treetops. + +"A Dios sea gloria por Jesu-Christo," he murmured reverently. ("To +God be glory through Jesus Christ.") + + + + +THE VICTORY OF QUANG PO + + +Jo bent down and slipped under the barbed wire fence that separated +the field back of the Chinese fishing-village from the other fields +that stretched away to the houses of the California seaside resort +under the pines. The wind blew pleasantly in from the sparkling bay. + +A large number of frames for drying fish stretched away to the back +part of the Chinese field. A great net fifty feet long was spread +out on the ground to dry. Jo looked at the wooden sinkers that were +fastened along one side of the net and smiled. "They're all on +again," he thought. + +A line of flounders stretched above the narrow, crooked street of +the fishing-village. The flounders looked like queer clothes hung to +dry on a clothes-line. There were crates of small fish, packed so +that they stood on their heads. Underneath a table of drying fish +lay a dead gopher. + +Red placards spotted the houses. On the roof of one hut a little +paper windmill was turning in the breeze. Back of one hut was a bit +of garden inclosed with a fence of branches and containing much +mustard. Chinese were washing fish. Shells were exposed for sale, +since at any hour visitors from the American settlement might come +to traverse the Chinese village, and visitors often bought shells. + +Even now, as Jo passed through the street, an old Chinaman beckoned +to the lad, and with much mystery unrolled a piece of brown paper +and showed a pearl that had come into his possession and that he +wished to sell. + +Young Chinese girls, with red or yellow-capped babies strapped on +their backs, packed or spread the fish. Some little Chinese boys +were arranging dried squids in boats drawn up on the shore. On one +boat was a kind of wooden crane, holding a hanging pan. There were +some burnt sticks in the pan, and the whole contrivance was +evidently an arrangement whereby a fire could be made in the boat +when it was out at sea. + +Jo stepped into one deserted hut, and found it to be a kitchen. An +oil can was over some ashes, and there were some queer, big kettles +near. In another place were Chinese children eating their breakfast. +One child had a Chinese cup, out of which she ate with chop-sticks. + +Jo sat down on the edge of the village, and watched three women who +were setting off in a boat, intending to row out into the surf to +get kelp. Small fish lay drying all over the rocks by the sea-beach +near Jo, and a Chinaman was lifting up the fish, and letting them +drop again by the handful, while the wind blew away the straw or +grass that had become mixed with the fish while drying. Then the +fish were spread upon matting to dry further. + +"Ho'lah!" the Chinaman said to Jo. + +"Ho'lah!" responded Jo, and the conversation ceased. + +For a few minutes Jo watched two or three Chinese boys who were +lying on the beach, sifting the white sand through their fingers, +hunting for the small, white "rice shells," that American people +often buy. + +Presently, Jo pulled a sketch-book out of his pocket, and began to +draw the collection of queer huts that composed the Chinese village. +By and by the Chinaman who had been tossing fish, Quang Po, sat down +on the rocks. He looked at Jo for a time, and then came and glanced +over Jo's shoulder, smiling. The Chinamen of the village were used +to having artists come and plant their easels here and there on the +rocks or at the entrance of the narrow street, and draw the village +on their canvas. At such times, a small group of Chinamen usually +gathered about each artist, and made in their own tongue comments on +the drawing. No artist knew the nature of the criticisms made in his +very ears. + +Jo smiled over his own drawing, as Quang Po inspected it. + +"Wha' fo' you do that?" inquired Quang Po, mustering his English. + +"This drawing?" questioned Jo. "Oh, you see, my cousin is an artist +on one of the city papers. He's older than I am, and he earns a good +deal of money. I'm going to learn to make pictures for papers, too. +Some day I'll have as good a position as my cousin has." + +Quang Po looked puzzled. He did not understand. He always thought +American pictures strange. They were not made as Chinese pictures +were. + +But Quang Po knew that once he had thought other American things +strange, too. Some Americans believed in teaching Chinese girls +wonderful stories and words from a wonderful Book. When Quang Po's +niece had been taught first by such an American, great was Quang's +wrath. To increase his indignation, another thing happened. He had +burnt incense at the stone in the middle of the fishing-village, in +order to find out what day would be most lucky to go fishing, and +had found that according to the stone the twenty-second day of the +month would be the most lucky day. He had therefore gone fishing on +the twenty-second, and he had come back sulky, having caught almost +nothing. Then Quang Po's niece had actually laughed at the ill- +fortune of her uncle, and had openly expressed her unbelief in the +village stone! Quang Po had been very angry for many days, but there +came a time when Quang Po's niece induced him to go with her to the +little mission school on the hill-side, and there Quang Po heard +that for which his soul thirsted. He saw the picture of the +Crucified. He understood the story, and he, like his niece, lost +faith in the village stone and in the incense-shelves. Quang Po +yielded his will and his life to Christ, and the Christian religion +seemed strange to him no longer. + +So, when this Chinaman handed back the drawing to Jo, Quang Po +smiled and said the kindest thing he could think of, although the +drawing did not accord with his Chinese ideas of art. + +"You draw like Melican," said Quang Po, winding his queue about his +head, and preparing to return to work. + +Jo felt somewhat ashamed. He wished that he and the other boys had +not cut the sinkers off Quang Po's big net. Perhaps Quang Po did not +know that Jo had taken part in that mischief, but the thought of it +made Jo uncomfortable. So did the remembrance that he and the other +boys had slyly at night cut the line that held the flounders high in +air above the village street. The flounders now were safely +stretched aloft again, but the last time Jo remembered seeing them +they were lying in the dust. Jo was not an ill-natured lad, but he +had not objected to helping do the mischief. And now Quang Po had +spoken kindly of Jo's drawing! Jo winced a little. He was rather +proud of his ability as an artist, himself. He turned his attention, +to the flaming yellow pair of trousers worn by a small Chinese boy +among the numerous Chinese children in the street below. The +brilliant color made the little fellow most conspicuous as he +toddled here and there. In watching him, Jo tried to forget his own +self-reproach. + +So far did he succeed in forgetting it that, that evening, when +Louis Rouse, one of the other boys whose parents were staying at the +resort during the summer vacation, proposed going over to the +Chinese village, Jo did not object, though he knew that the purpose +of going was to have some "fun," as Louis called it. + +"Was the line of flounders up?" asked Louis gleefully, as the boys +went over the fields in the dusk. "Let's cut it again! And, say, +let's just tip over one of those frames for drying fish in the field +back of the village. We can do it carefully, so they won't hear." + +Chuckling softly and speaking in whispers only, the boys crept about +the fishing-village and did the mischief planned. They pretended +that the Chinese village was a fort of enemies, and the boys were a +band of soldiers reconnoitering in the dark. They became quite +excited over the idea. Doing mischief seemed so much more glorious +than it would if they had allowed themselves to think that they were +really American boys doing a contemptible thing to quiet, peaceable +people. + +Just as the boys had quietly tipped over one of the fish-frames, +letting the partially dried fish slide to the ground, there were +shouts in the dark of the Chinese village. + +"The enemy's coming, boys!" whispered Louis, and the lads rushed for +the fence. + +Some boys caught their feet in the big, spread-out net, and fell, +and rolled over, shaking with laughter. Others stuck between the +barbed wires of the fence, but all were outside, running across the +fields, before the Chinese had sallied out toward their frames. Some +distance from the fishing village, the boys dropped breathless +behind the large rocks near the sea, and laughed softly together. Jo +laughed with the others, though he said, "I sha'n't dare go near the +village for a week, till my hand gets well. The barbed wire gave me +some pretty deep scratches on the back of one hand, and the Chinamen +might guess how I got the marks." + +"I've got one on my forehead, I guess," answered Louis, laughing. +"It feels so, anyway, and I guess it's bleeding." + +The boys went home. Jo was silent on the way. + +"I'm tired, laughing so much," he explained to the rest. + +He could not help remembering how kind Quang Po's voice had sounded +when he said, "You draw like Melican." + +During the next week Jo stayed away from the fishing village. The +scratches on his hand and on his cheek were all too plainly visible. +He occupied his vacation-time in rambling in other places besides +the Chinese village. + +One morning, in his rambles, he went to what had once been an old +adobe dwelling. It was on a hill, quite a distance outside the town, +and was not often visited by any one. The old adobe had long ago +lost its tile roof, some of the walls had fallen, its former Spanish +inhabitants had long since disappeared, and quick-motioned, small +lizards now and then ran over the thick, ruined walls that stood, +dark and crumbling, against the light-brown of the wild oats on the +hill. + +Jo climbed on top of one of the higher adobe walls. It still +retained its Spanish thickness, being about five feet through, +although crumbling at the sides and somewhat uncertain as to +uprightness. + +"Must have taken a lot of clay to make it," thought Jo. + +Just then a little lizard, that had been sunning itself in a niche +in the adobe wall, started, disturbed by Jo's proximity, and ran +swiftly over to another part of the wall. Jo was anxious to see +where the creature went. The boy jumped over a broken place in the +wall, and walked on its top, regardless of the fact that the adobe +was trembling. + +"Guess it's gone where I can't see it," said Jo to himself. "This is +a nice sunny place for a lizard. I--" + +Jo had stepped a little too far. There was a sudden trembling of the +wall. Jo caught at the adobe, which came away in handfuls, and he +fell with a large portion of the old wall. + +The next thing he knew, he was lying, choked with dust, on what was +once the floor of the old Spanish dwelling. He was overtopped by a +heavy pile of debris, from under which he struggled in vain to +extricate himself. He had one free hand, with which, when he found +that other exertions did not avail, he tried to dig himself out; but +the more he dug, the more the great pile of adobe above him slid +down on his face, till he was in such imminent danger of being +smothered that he was forced to desist. + +It was almost all he could do to breathe with such a weight upon +him, but after a few moments' rest he tried to shout for help. His +shouts were not very loud, and soon he had to stop. He lay breathing +heavily and looking up at the pile of dull earth. + +"I wish," he panted, "I hadn't--come here." + +He fervently hoped that some sight-seer like himself might be +attracted to the old, out-of-the-way adobe, for Jo was now convinced +that it was impossible for him to set himself free. He tried again +and again, but always with the same result of semi-suffocation under +the sliding debris. + +The forenoon passed away. The sun, mounting higher, shone over the +dilapidated walls, and fell full on Jo's face. He shielded his eyes +with his free hand. The sun beat heavily on his head. Sometimes he +thought he heard a rustle in the wild oats, and he cried out for +help, but he afterward concluded the sound had been made by the wind +or by some lizard. + +Gradually the shade began to lengthen in the adobe. Jo looked +wistfully at the shadow of the wall as it stretched a little farther +toward him, and he sighed with relief when at length the sun that +had made his head so hot was guarded from his face by the shadow +that reached him. He had lain here a number of hours, and now, as he +began to think about evening, he wondered what his father and mother +would do when he did not come home. If they had not worried about +him during the day, they would be alarmed at night. + +"There are some coyotes around the neighborhood," thought Jo. + +He knew that a number of poultry-yards had suffered from coyotes. Jo +did not suppose that a coyote would usually attack a person. +Chickens, lambs, young pigs, were a coyote's prey, but in Jo's +present situation he did not care to be visited by a coyote. + +"I could throw clods at him," thought Jo. "I hope that would scare +him away." + +As the sun sank, Jo shouted repeatedly, till his breath was gone. He +hoped that some laborer might take his homeward way across the +unfrequented hill. But the prospect of such relief seemed very +slight, so unused was this place to visitors. Jo saw a wild bird fly +far overhead in the glow of the evening sky. The bird could go home, +but he could not. He could only wait--how long? + +After a while, there was the sound of clumsy feet that jolted by the +adobe. Jo heard. + +"Come here!" he cried with all his strength. "Come here! Come here!" + +The clumsy feet stopped. There was a creaking sound, as of baskets +swung to the ground. A face peered through a break in the wall, and +Quang Po climbed into the adobe. + +"Ho'lah!" he said. + +"Ho'lah!" faintly responded Jo. + +Quang Po wasted no more words, but set to work. He had not much to +dig with, save his tough, yellow hands and a stick, but after nearly +an hour's exertion, he released Jo. + +"You' bones bloke?" asked Quang anxiously. + +"No," responded Jo, wincing. "My arm hurts, but I guess it's only a +sprain." + +"Me cally fish to lady," explained Quang. "Me go closs hill to +lady's house. Hear you holler." + +Jo tried to stand, but found himself dizzy and faint, and Quang Po, +leaving his baskets, went home with the lad. + +Next day, Quang Po, going his rounds, was carrying his fish-baskets +past Jo's house. Jo, sitting on the steps, his arm in a bandage, +made a sign to Quang to stop. + +"My mother wants to buy some fish of you," Jo said. + +The fish were bought, and Quang was thanked by Jo's mother for +helping her boy. Quang went back to his baskets again, but Jo +followed. + +"Quang Po," he said, choking a little, "you very good to me." + +Quang Po smiled. + +"Quang," confessed Jo, "I helped the other boys cut the sinkers from +your big net, once." + +Quang nodded. + +"Me sabe," (understand) he answered, "me sabe long time ago." + +"I helped the other boys cut the line that held up your flounders," +faltered Jo. "I helped tip over the fish-frame." + +Quang Po nodded. + +"Me t'ink so," he said. + +"What for you good to me?" demanded Jo. + +"Me Clistian," responded Quang Po with gravity, as if that one word +explained everything. "Clistian must do lite." + +Jo looked at him. Quang lifted his heavy baskets on his pole. + +"Goo' by," he said. + +"Say--Quang Po," burst out Jo, "I'm sorry! I won't bother you any +more! I won't let the other boys do it, either! I can stop it." + +Quang Po smiled. + +"Me glad you solly," he said. "We be good flends, now." And he +trotted away, the heavy baskets creaking. + +Jo looked after him. + +"And I thought you were the heathen!" he whispered. + + + + +THE NEW IGLOO. + + +The sky was lowering. The small storm-"igloo," or round-topped snow +house, was full of Eskimo dogs that had crowded in to shelter +themselves from the bitter wind. This small igloo was built in front +of the door of a bigger round igloo in which an Eskimo family lived. +The dogs' small igloo was built where it was, to keep the wind and +the cold from coming in at the family's igloo door. + +Over the snowy ground a boy, clad in a reindeer coat, came running. +His brown cheeks were flushed, and his black eyes were bright with +excitement. His lips curved and parted over his white teeth as he +chuckled happily to himself about something. He rushed to the very +low door of his home, dropped down on his hands and knees, put some +slender thing between his teeth, pulled the hood of the reindeer +coat up over his head so as to keep the snow from slipping down the +back of his neck, and then scrambled quickly through the low +opening, pushing aside the dogs, till he reached the interior of the +larger igloo. Then the boy jumped up and snatched the thing he had +held in his mouth. + +"Oh, see, see!" he cried, holding up his treasure. "See what the +teacher gave me!" + +What he held was the half of a lead pencil, a rarity to him, given +to him now as a prize at school. + +"And see!" cried the excited lad once more. + +He pulled from his reindeer coat a piece of paper. The paper was +part of his prize, too. He made some rude marks on the paper with +his pencil, and held them where they were visible by the light of +the small stone lamp, shaped like a huge clam shell, and burning +with walrus oil. The lad's face was illumined with enthusiasm. Never +before had he owned such treasures. To think they were his own! He +had earned them by good behavior, and diligent, though extremely +slow, attempts at learning. A sarcastic laugh came from one side of +the platform of snow, that was built around the whole circular +interior of the igloo. On the platform lounged the lad's brother, +Tanana. "You went without your breakfast yesterday, and ran to +school, and now you come back with those things!" laughed Tanana. +"You are a dog of the teacher's team, Anvik! He can drive you." + +Anvik's black eyes snapped. + +"He does not drive me!" cried the boy. "He teaches me to want to +learn! I have gone to school many days. I want to learn, to learn! I +can make A and B. See!" + +He pushed his paper with its awkwardly formed letters farther into +the lamp's light. The edge of the precious paper took fire, and with +a cry of alarm, Anvik smothered his paper in the snow. + +His brother laughed again. + +"To-morrow will be another day," he said. "Why should anybody learn +for to-morrow?" + +But the mother of the two lads stretched out her hand, and took the +paper, and looked at the straggling marks. The fat baby, that she +carried in the hood of her reindeer suit, crowed over her shoulder +at the piece of paper, and Anvik forgot to be angry. He put his +pencil in his mother's hand. She looked curiously at the strange new +thing. + +"You make A, too, mother," urged the boy; and, putting his hand on +his mother's, he tried to show her how to make the strange marks. + +His mother did little more than touch the paper with the pencil. She +smiled at the tiny dark line she had made, and gave back the pencil +and paper to the boy. She was proud of him, proud that the strange +white man should have thought her boy good enough to give him such +queer things. Anvik saw her pride, and felt comforted. + +"To-morrow will be another day," murmured Tanana from his lounging +place. "The teacher is wrong. He makes that loud sound when school +begins. The wise man says the teacher must not make that sound any +more, for it will prevent our people from catching foxes and seals." + +"It is the school-bell," answered Anvik, knowing that the Eskimo +sorcerer had gone to the teacher but a few days previous, to +prophesy evil concerning the ringing of the bell. "The foxes and the +seals care not for it. Go to school with me, Tanana, to-morrow. The +teacher wants you." + +Tanana did not answer. He drew a bottle from out of his skin suit +and drank. Anvik looked at his mother. The odor of the liquor spread +through the small round house. Anvik had not noticed the odor when +he came in, being then too excited over his prize to have room in +his head for any other idea. But now he felt a great sadness of +soul. Tanana and their father were both beginning to learn to drink. +The sailors who came to the shore had liquor with them sometimes, +and traded it to the natives. + +The teacher at school had told the boys never to touch the sailors' +liquor. The teacher said it would steal the boys' souls. Anvik did +not understand that very well, but he knew liquor made Tanana and +their father cross and lazy, and the laziness kept them poor, and +the mother was sad. + +Anvik lay long awake that night, on the raised platform of snow in +the igloo, and thought. + +"My teacher said he heard that at one Eskimo village a canoe came +with whisky and the Eskimos pounded on a drum all night, and +shouted," thought the lad. "When the morning came, the people were +ashamed to look in the face of their teacher. My teacher said I must +pray the dear Lord Christ to save Tanana and my father from +drinking." + +And Anvik prayed in the dark igloo. + +The next day came, and Anvik went again to school, but Tanana and +the father went off to look at the ice-traps wherein Eskimos catch +any stray wolves or foxes. + +When Anvik came back at night to the igloo, he met his father and +Tanana rejoicing over a bear cub that they had killed. They were +bringing it home with them, and were laughing, and shouting, and +singing, not so much from joy as from drinking together from the +bottle that Tanana had procured. + +"We have a bear cub, a bear cub!" shouted Tanana in maudlin tones to +his brother. "See how strong the hot water we drink makes us! We +come home with a bear cub! Hot water, let us drink hot water!" + +Now by "hot water" Tanana meant of course the liquor in his bottle, +and when Anvik saw the young bear and the condition his father and +brother were in, the lad immediately became very anxious, for the +Eskimos are usually very careful not to kill a young bear without +having first killed its mother. It is considered a very rash thing +to kill the cub first, and when men who are pressed by hunger do it, +they are obliged to exercise the strictest precaution lest they +should be attacked by the mother-bear, for she will surely follow on +the track of the men. + +So the Eskimos usually go in a straight line for about five or six +miles, and then suddenly turn off at a right angle, so that the +mother-bear, as she presses eagerly forward, may overrun the +hunters' track and lose her way. The men go on a distance, and then +turn as before. + +After doing this several times, the men dare to go home, but even +there weapons are placed ready for use by the bedside, and outside +the house sledges are put up right, for the bear is always +suspicious of the erect sledge, and she will knock it dawn before +she will attack the igloo. The knocking down of the sledge makes a +noise that gives warning to the family. + +But when Anvik saw the condition that his father and brother were +in, he was greatly frightened, for he did not believe that the +liquor had left enough sense in their minds so that they had +remembered to turn off in the homeward journey, and, if they had +come home without covering their track, there could be no doubt that +the mother bear would come to attack the igloo that very night. + +But it would do no good to say anything to Tanana and his father. +They were far too much under the influence of what they had been +drinking. Anvik told his mother his suspicions. + +"We will set up the sledge outside the igloo," said his mother, +trembling. + +"I will have my harpoon ready," answered Anvik bravely. "Do not +fear, mother. Perhaps the bear will not come." + +They put two harpoons and a spear beside the raised platform of snow +in the igloo, after the father and older son were stupidly sleeping. + +Then came an anxious time of waiting. The stone lamp's light grew +more and more dim to Anvik's drowsy eyes, as he, too, lay on one +side of the circular platform. Nothing disturbed his father and +brother in their heavy, liquor-made sleep. Anvik's eyes closed at +last, even while he was determined to keep awake. His mother, tired +with scraping and pounding skins, nestled her chubby baby in her +neck, and dropped asleep; too, after long watching. The igloo was +quiet, except for the heavy breathing. + +A terrible noise arose outdoors. Anvik started into consciousness. +There was an uproar of dogs, awakened by the destroying of their +small igloo. The sledge fell. The family igloo seemed to shake +throughout the entire circle of hard snow blocks. The dome-shaped +hut quaked under the attack of some foe. + +"Father! Father, wake up!" screamed Anvik, springing to his feet. +"The bear! The bear has come! Father! Tanana!" + +He rushed to their side and shook them, but he could not rouse them. + +"Wake up! Wake up!" screamed Anvik. + +His mother caught one harpoon. Anvik seized another. The great paws +were digging into the igloo! The dogs had attacked the bear, but she +fought them off, killing some with the powerful blows of her claws. + +"Be ready, Anvik!" warned his mother. + +The side of the igloo gave way! A dreadful struggle followed. There +was a chorus of barks and growls and screams. The bear fought +desperately. The struggle and the falling snow partially wakened the +father and son, but they were stupidly useless. The dogs attacked +the bear's back. Anvik, watching his chance while the bear was +repelling the dogs, drove a harpoon into the animal. The bear +savagely thrust at the lad, but the dogs leaped up and Anvik's +mother drove her harpoon into the enemy. As well as he could in the +darkness, Anvik chose his opportunity, and as he had seen older +Eskimos do, skillfully avoided the attacks the bear strove to make +upon him, till at last he managed to drive the sharp spear to the +animal's heart. + +All was over at last. The shrieks, the growls ceased, and the dead +bear lay among the ruins of the igloo. + +The next day Anvik stayed away from school to help build a new +igloo. His father and Tanana did not talk much, from the time when +they laid the blocks of extremely hard snow in a circle till the +time when the inwardly-slanting snow walls had risen to the topmost +horizontal block that joined the walls. But, once during the +building, when the three workers had taken great flat shovels, made +of strips of bone lashed together, and were throwing loose snow +against the sides of the new igloo to protect its future inhabitants +from the cold, the father stopped, and turning to Tanana said: + +"My heart is ashamed! The hot water made us forget to hide the way +to the igloo, and when the bear came to kill my wife and children, +the hot water made us sleep. My heart is ashamed." + +And Tanana, keenly humiliated that his younger brother and not +himself had killed the bear, answered, "My heart is ashamed, also." + +"The hot water bottle shall not come to my mouth again," resolved +the father, with determination. + +And Tanana promised the same. The bottle had been broken in the +scuffle, but Tanana knew his father's and his own promise included +any other bottle of liquor. + +"You shall go to the teacher's school with Anvik," decided the +father. "The teacher speaks well when he tells the boys that the hot +water will steal their souls. If Anvik had drank it, we should all +have been killed." + +Anvik jumped up from chinking a crack between two snow blocks. He +remembered his prayer, and he laughed aloud now with joy for the +answer. + +"The new igloo is better than the old!" he cried. "The hot water +will never go in at the door of our new igloo!" + +And in his heart the boy added, "May the dear Lord Christ come into +our new home!" + + + + + +End Project Gutenberg Etext of OUT OF THE TRIANGLE, by MARY E. BAMFORD + diff --git a/old/outri10.zip b/old/outri10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d69ff63 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/outri10.zip |