INTRODUCTION
IthinkIhavemet"RalphConner."Indeed,IamsureIhave——onceinacanoeontheRedRiver,onceontheAssinaboine,andtwiceorthriceontheprairiestotheWest.Thatwasnotthenamehegaveme,but,ifIamright,itcoversoneofthemosthonestandgenialofthestrongcharactersthatarefightingthedevilanddoinggoodworkformenallovertheworld.Hehasseenwithhisowneyesthelifewhichhedescribesinthisbook,andhashimself,forsomeyearsofhardandlonelytoil,assistedinthegoodinfluenceswhichhetracesamongitswildandoftenhopelessconditions.Hewriteswiththefreshnessandaccuracyofaneye—witness,withthestyle(asIthinkhisreaderswillallow)ofarealartist,andwiththetendernessandhopefulnessofamannotonlyoffaithbutofexperience,whohasseeninfulfillmenttheidealsforwhichhelives.
Thelifetowhichhetakesus,thoughfaroffandverystrangetoourtameminds,isthelifeofourbrothers.IntotheNorthwestofCanadatheyoungmenofGreatBritainandIrelandhavebeenpouring(Iwastold),sometimesattherateof48,000ayear.Ourbrotherswholefthomeyesterday——ourheartscannotbutfollowthem.WiththesepagesRalphConnerenablesoureyesandourmindstofollow,too;nordoIthinkthereisanyonewhoshallreadthisbookandnotfindalsothathisconscienceisquickened.Thereisawarfareappointeduntomanuponearth,anditsstrugglesarenowheremoreintense,northevictoriesofthestrong,northesuccorsbroughttothefallen,moreheroic,thanonthefieldsdescribedinthisvolume.
GEORGEADAMSMITH.
BLACKROCK
Thestoryofthebookistrue,andchiefofthefailuresinthemakingofthebookisthis,thatitisnotallthetruth.Thelightisnotbrightenough,theshadowisnotblackenoughtogiveatruepictureofthatbitofWesternlifeofwhichthewriterwassomesmallpart.Themenofthebookarestillthereintheminesandlumbercampsofthemountains,fightingoutthateternalfightformanhood,strong,clean,God—conquered.And,whenthewestwindsblow,totheopenearthesoundsofbattlecome,tellingthefortunesofthefight.
Becauseaman’slifeisallhehas,andbecausetheonlyhopeofthebraveyoungWestliesinitsmen,thisstoryistold.Itmaybethatthetragicpityofabrokenlifemaymovesometopray,andthatthatdivinepowerthereisinasinglebravehearttosummonforthhopeandcouragemaymovesometofight.Ifso,thetaleisnottoldinvain.
C.W.G.
CONTENTS
CHAPTERI
CHRISTMASEVEINALUMBERCAMP
CHAPTERII
THEBLACKROCKCHRISTMAS
CHAPTERIII
WATERLOO.OURFIGHT——HISVICTORY
CHAPTERIV
MRS.MAVOR’SSTORY
CHAPTERV
THEMAKINGOFTHELEAGUE
CHAPTERVI
BLACKROCKRELIGION
CHAPTERVII
THEFIRSTBLACKROCKCOMMUNION
CHAPTERVIII
THEBREAKINGOFTHELEAGUE
CHAPTERIX
THELEAGUE’SREVENGE
CHAPTERX
WHATCAMETOSLAVIN
CHAPTERXI
THETWOCALLS
CHAPTERXII
LOVEISNOTALL
CHAPTERXIII
HOWNELSONCAMEHOME
CHAPTERXIV
GRAEME’SNEWBIRTH
CHAPTERXV
COMINGTOTHEIROWN
CHAPTERI
CHRISTMASEVEINALUMBERCAMP
ItwasduetoamysteriousdispensationofProvidence,andagooddealtoLeslieGraeme,thatIfoundmyselfintheheartoftheSelkirksformyChristmasEveastheyear1882wasdying.IthadbeenmyplantospendmyChristmasfarawayinToronto,withsuchBohemianandbooncompanionsascouldbefoundinthatcosmopolitanandkindlycity.ButLeslieGraemechangedallthat,for,discoveringmeinthevillageofBlackRock,withmytrapsallpacked,waitingforthestagetostartfortheLanding,thirtymilesaway,heboredownuponmewithresistlessforce,andIfoundmyselfrecoveringfrommysurpriseonlyafterwehadgoneinhislumbersleighsomesixmilesonourwaytohiscampupinthemountains.Iwassurprisedandmuchdelighted,thoughIwouldnotallowhimtothinkso,tofindthathisold—timepowerovermewasstillthere.Hecouldalwaysintheold’Varsitydays——dear,wilddays——makemedowhatheliked.Hewassohandsomeandsoreckless,brilliantinhisclass—work,andtheprinceofhalf—backsontheRugbyfield,andwithsuchpoweroffascination,aswould’extracttheheartoutofawheelbarrow,’asBarneyLundyusedtosay.AndthusitwasthatIfoundmyselfjustthreeweekslater——I
wastohavespenttwoorthreedays,——ontheafternoonofthe24thofDecember,standinginGraeme’sLumberCampNo.2,wonderingatmyself.ButIdidnotregretmychangedplans,forinthosethreeweeksIhadraidedacinnamonbear’sdenandhadwakenedupagrizzly——ButIshallletthegrizzlyfinishthetale;heprobablyseesmorehumourinitthanI.
Thecampstoodinalittleclearing,andconsistedofagroupofthreelong,lowshantieswithsmallershacksnearthem,allbuiltofheavy,unhewnlogs,withdoorandwindowineach.Thegrubcamp,withcook—shedattached,stoodinthemiddleoftheclearing;
atalittledistancewasthesleeping—campwiththeofficebuiltagainstit,andaboutahundredyardsawayontheothersideoftheclearingstoodthestables,andnearthemthesmiddy.Themountainsrosegrandlyoneveryside,throwinguptheirgreatpeaksintothesky.Theclearinginwhichthecampstoodwashewnoutofadensepineforestthatfilledthevalleyandclimbedhalfwayupthemountain—sides,andthenfrayedoutinscatteredandstuntedtrees.
ItwasoneofthosewonderfulCanadianwinterdays,bright,andwithatouchofsharpnessintheairthatdidnotchill,butwarmedthebloodlikedraughtsofwine.Themenwereupinthewoods,andtheshrillscreamofthebluejayflashingacrosstheopen,theimpudentchatteroftheredsquirrelfromthetopofthegrubcamp,andthepertchirpofthewhisky—jack,hoppingaboutontherubbish—heap,withthelong,lonecryofthewolffardownthevalley,onlymadethesilencefeltthemore.
AsIstooddrinkinginwithallmysoulthegloriousbeautyandthesilenceofmountainandforest,withtheChristmasfeelingstealingintome,Graemecameoutfromhisoffice,and,catchingsightofme,calledout,’GloriousChristmasweather,oldchap!’Andthen,comingnearer,’Mustyougoto—morrow?’
’Ifearso,’Ireplied,knowingwellthattheChristmasfeelingwasonhimtoo.
’IwishIweregoingwithyou,’hesaidquietly.
Iturnedeagerlytopersuadehim,butatthelookofsufferinginhisfacethewordsdiedatmylips,forwebothwerethinkingoftheawfulnightofhorrorwhenallhisbright,brilliantlifecrasheddownabouthiminblackruinandshame.Icouldonlythrowmyarmoverhisshoulderandstandsilentbesidehim.Asuddenjingleofbellsrousedhim,and,givinghimselfalittleshake,heexclaimed,’Therearetheboyscominghome.’
Soonthecampwasfilledwithmentalking,laughing,chaffing,likelight—heartedboys.
’Theyarealittlewildto—night,’saidGraeme;’andtomorrowthey’llpaintBlackRockred.’
Beforemanyminuteshadgone,thelastteamsterwas’washedup,’
andallwerestandingaboutwaitingimpatientlyforthecook’ssignal——thesupperto—nightwastobe’somethingofafeed’——whenthesoundofbellsdrewtheirattentiontoalightsleighdrawnbyabuckskinbronchocomingdownthehillsideatagreatpace.
’Thepreacher,I’llbet,byhisdriving,’saidoneofthemen.
’Bedad,andit’shimhasthefoinenoseforturkey!’saidBlaney,agood—natured,jovialIrishman.
’Yes,orforpay—day,morelike,’saidKeefe,ablack—browed,villainousfellow—countrymanofBlaney’s,and,strangetosay,hisgreatfriend.
BigSandyM’Naughton,aCanadianHighlanderfromGlengarry,roseupinwrath.’BillKeefe,’saidhe,withdeliberateemphasis,’you’lljustkeepyourdirtytongueofftheminister;andasforyourpay,it’slittleheseesofit,oranyoneelse,exceptMikeSlavin,whenyou’retoodrytowaitforsomeonetotreatyou,orperhapsFatherRyan,whenthefearofhell—fireisontoyou.’
ThemenstoodamazedatSandy’ssuddenangerandlengthofspeech.
’Bon;dat’sgoodforyou,mybullyboy,’saidBaptiste,awirylittleFrench—Canadian,Sandy’sswornallyanddevotedadmirereversincethedaywhenthebigScotsman,undergreatprovocation,hadknockedhimcleanoffthedumpintotheriverandthenjumpedinforhim.
ItwasnottillafterwardsIlearnedthecauseofSandy’ssuddenwrathwhichurgedhimtosuchunwontedlengthofspeech.ItwasnotsimplythatthePresbyterianbloodcarriedwithitreverencefortheministerandcontemptforPapistsandFenians,butthathehadavividremembranceofhow,onlyamonthago,theministerhadgothimoutofMikeSlavin’ssaloonandouttheclutchesofKeefeandSlavinandtheirgangofbloodsuckers.
Keefestartedupwithacurse.BaptistesprangtoSandy’sside,slappedhimontheback,andcalledout,’Youkeelhim,I’llhit(eat)himup,me.’
Itlookedasiftheremightbeafight,whenaharshvoicesaidinalow,savagetone,’Stopyourrow,youblankfools;settleit,ifyouwantto,somewhereelse.’Iturned,andwasamazedtoseeoldmanNelson,whowasveryseldommovedtospeech.
Therewasalookofscornonhishard,iron—greyface,andofsuchsettledfiercenessasmademequitebelievethetalesIhadheardofhisdeadlyfightsintheminesatthecoast.Beforeanyreplycouldbemade,theministerdroveupandcalledoutinacheeryvoice,’MerryChristmas,boys!Hello,Sandy!Commentcava,Baptiste?Howdoyoudo,Mr.Graeme?’
’Firstrate.Letmeintroducemyfriend,Mr.Connor,sometimemedicalstudent,nowartist,hunter,andtrampatlarge,butnotabadsort.’
’Amantobeenvied,’saidtheminister,smiling.’IamgladtoknowanyfriendofMr.Graeme’s.’
IlikedMr.Craigfromthefirst.Hehadgoodeyesthatlookedstraightoutatyou,aclean—cut,strongfacewellsetonhisshoulders,andaltogetheranupstanding,manlybearing.HeinsistedongoingwithSandytothestablestoseeDandy,hisbroncho,putup.
’Decentfellow,’saidGraeme;’butthoughheisgoodenoughtohisbroncho,itisSandythat’sinhismindnow.’
’Doeshecomeoutoften?Imean,areyoupartofhisparish,sotospeak?’
’Ihavenodoubthethinksso;andI’mblowedifhedoesn’tmakethePresbyteriansofusthinksotoo.’Andheaddedafterapause,’Adandylotofparishionersweareforanyman.There’sSandy,now,hewouldknockKeefe’sheadoffasakindofreligiousexercise;butto—morrowKeefewillbesober,andSandywillbedrunkasalord,andthedrunkerheisthebetterPresbyterianhe’llbe;tothepreacher’sdisgust.’Thenafteranotherpauseheaddedbitterly,’ButitisnotformetothrowrocksatSandy;Iamnotthesamekindoffool,butIamafoolofseveralothersorts.’
Thenthecookcameoutandbeatatattooonthebottomofadish—
pan.Baptisteansweredwithayell:butthoughkeenlyhungry,nomanwoulddemeanhimselftodootherthanwalkwithapparentreluctancetohisplaceatthetable.Atthefurtherendofthecampwasabigfireplace,andfromthedoortothefireplaceextendedthelongboardtables,coveredwithplattersofturkeynottooscientificallycarved,dishesofpotatoes,bowlsofapplesauce,platesofbutter,pies,andsmallerdishesdistributedatregularintervals.Twolanternshangingfromtheroof,andarowofcandlesstuckintothewalloneithersidebymeansofslitsticks,castadim,weirdlightoverthescene.
Therewasamoment’ssilence,andatanodfromGraemeMr.Craigroseandsaid,’Idon’tknowhowyoufeelaboutit,men,buttomethislooksgoodenoughtobethankfulfor.’
’Fireahead,sir,’calledoutavoicequiterespectfully,andtheministerbenthisheadandsaid——
’ForChristtheLordwhocametosaveus,foralltheloveandgoodnesswehaveknown,andfortheseThygiftstousthisChristmasnight,ourFather,makeusthankful.Amen.’
’Bon,dat’sfussrate,’saidBaptiste.’Seemslakdat’smakemehit(eat)morebetterforsure,’andthennowordwasspokenforquarterofanhour.Theoccasionwasfartoosolemnandmomentstoopreciousforanythingsoemptyaswords.Butwhenthewhitepilesofbreadandthebrownpilesofturkeyhadforasecondtimevanished,andafterthelastpiehaddisappeared,therecameapauseandhushofexpectancy,whereuponthecookandcookee,eachbearingaloftahuge,blazingpudding,cameforth.
’Hooray!’yelledBlaney,’upwidyez!’andgrabbingthecookbytheshouldersfrombehind,hefacedhimabout.
Mr.Craigwasthefirsttorespond,andseizingthecookeeinthesameway,calledout,’Squad,fallin!quickmarch!’Inamomenteverymanwasintheprocession.
’Strikeup,Batchees,yelittleangel!’shoutedBlaney,theappellationaconcessiontotheminister’spresence;andawaywentBaptisteinarollickingFrenchsongwiththeEnglishchorus——
’Thenblow,yewinds,inthemorning,Blow,yewinds,ayoh!
Blow,yewinds,inthemorning,Blow,blow,blow.’
Andateach’blow’everybootcamedownwithathumpontheplankfloorthatshookthesolidroof.Afterthesecondround,Mr.
Craigjumpeduponthebench,andcalledout——
’ThreecheersforBillythecook!’
InthesilencefollowingthecheersBaptistewasheardtosay,’Bon!dat’smakmefeellakhitdatpuddin’allhupmesef,me.’
’Heartillthelittlebaste!’saidBlaneyindisgust.
’Batchees,’remonstratedSandygravely,’ye’vemorestomachthanmanners.’
’Fusure!butdemorestomachdat’smorebetterfordispuddin’,’
repliedthelittleFrenchmancheerfully.
Afteratimethetableswereclearedandpushedbacktothewall,andpipeswereproduced.Inallattitudessuggestiveofcomfortthemendisposedthemselvesinawidecircleaboutthefire,whichnowroaredandcrackledupthegreatwoodenchimneyhangingfromtheroof.Thelumberman’shourofblisshadarrived.EvenoldmanNelsonlookedashadelessmelancholythanusualashesatalone,wellawayfromthefire,smokingsteadilyandsilently.Whenthesecondpipeswerewella—going,oneofthementookdownaviolinfromthewallandhandedittoLachlanCampbell.ThereweretwobrothersCampbelljustoutfromArgyll,typicalHighlanders:
Lachlan,dark,silent,melancholy,withthefaceofamystic,andAngus,red—haired,quick,impulsive,anddevotedtohisbrother,adevotionhethoughtpropertocoverunderbiting,sarcasticspeech.
Lachlan,aftermuchprotestation,interspersedwithgibesfromhisbrother,tooktheviolin,and,inresponsetothecallfromallsides,struckup’LordMacdonald’sReel.’Inamomentthefloorwasfilledwithdancers,whoopingandcrackingtheirfingersinthewildestmanner.ThenBaptistedidthe’RedRiverJig,’amostintricateanddifficultseriesofsteps,themenkeepingtimetothemusicwithhandsandfeet.
Whenthejigwasfinished,Sandycalledfor’LochaberNoMore’;butCampbellsaid,’No,no!Icannotplaythatto—night.Mr.Craigwillplay.’
Craigtooktheviolin,andatthefirstnoteIknewhewasnoordinaryplayer.Ididnotrecognisethemusic,butitwassoftandthrilling,andgotinbytheheart,tilleveryonewasthinkinghistenderestandsaddestthoughts.
Afterhehadplayedtwoorthreeexquisitebits,hegaveCampbellhisviolin,saying,’Now,"Lochaber,"Lachlan.’
WithoutawordLachlanbegan,not’Lochaber’——hewasnotreadyforthatyet——but’TheFlowerso’theForest,’andfromthatwanderedthrough’AuldRobinGray’and’TheLando’theLeal,’andsogotatlasttothatmostsoul—subduingofScottishlaments,’LochaberNoMore.’Atthefirststrain,hisbrother,whohadthrownhimselfonsomeblanketsbehindthefire,turnedoveronhisface,feigningsleep.SandyM’Naughtontookhispipeoutofhismouth,andsatupstraightandstiff,staringintovacancy,andGraeme,beyondthefire,drewashort,sharpbreath.Wehadoftensat,GraemeandI,inourstudent—days,inthedrawing—roomathome,listeningtohisfatherwailingout’Lochaber’uponthepipes,andIwellknewthattheawfulminorstrainswerenoweatingtheirwayintohissoul.
OverandoveragaintheHighlanderplayedhislament.Hehadlongsinceforgottenus,andwasseeingvisionsofthehillsandlochsandglensofhisfar—awaynativeland,andmakingus,too,seestrangethingsoutofthedimpast.IglancedatoldmanNelson,andwasstartledattheeager,almostpiteous,lookinhiseyes,andIwishedCampbellwouldstop.Mr.Craigcaughtmyeye,and,steppingovertoCampbell,heldouthishandfortheviolin.
LingeringlyandlovinglytheHighlanderdrewoutthelaststrain,andsilentlygavetheministerhisinstrument.
Withoutamoment’spause,andwhilethespellof’Lochaber’wasstilluponus,theminister,withexquisiteskill,fellintotherefrainofthatsimpleandbeautifulcamp—meetinghymn,’TheSweetByandBy.’Afterplayingtheversethroughonce,hesangsoftlytherefrain.Afterthefirstverse,themenjoinedinthechorus;
atfirsttimidly,butbythetimethethirdversewasreachedtheywereshoutingwiththroatsfullopen,’Weshallmeetonthatbeautifulshore.’WhenIlookedatNelsontheeagerlighthadgoneoutofhiseyes,andinitsplacewaskindofdeterminedhopelessness,asifinthisnewmusichehadnopart.
Afterthevoiceshadceased,Mr.Craigplayedagaintherefrain,moreandmoresoftlyandslowly;thenlayingtheviolinonCampbell’sknees,hedrewfromhispockethislittleBible,andsaid——
’Men,withMr.Graeme’spermission,IwanttoreadyousomethingthisChristmasEve.Youwillallhavehearditbefore,butyouwilllikeitnonethelessforthat.’
Hisvoicewassoft,butclearandpenetrating,ashereadtheeternalstoryoftheangelsandtheshepherdsandtheBabe.Andasheread,aslightmotionofthehandoraglanceofaneyemadeussee,ashewasseeing,thatwholeradiantdrama.Thewonder,thetimidjoy,thetenderness,themysteryofitall,wereborneinuponuswithoverpoweringeffect.Heclosedthebook,andinthesamelow,clearvoicewentontotellushow,inhishomeyearsago,heusedtostandonChristmasEvelisteninginthrillingdelighttohismothertellinghimthestory,andhowsheusedtomakehimseetheshepherdsandhearthesheepbleatingnearby,andhowthesuddenburstofgloryusedtomakehisheartjump.
’Iusedtobealittleafraidoftheangels,becauseaboytoldmetheywereghosts;butmymothertoldmebetter,andIdidn’tfearthemanymore.AndtheBaby,thedearlittleBaby——weallloveababy.’Therewasaquick,drysob;itwasfromNelson.’Iusedtopeekthroughundertoseethelittleoneinthestraw,andwonderwhatthingsswaddlingclotheswere.Oh,itwasallsorealandsobeautiful!’Hepaused,andIcouldhearthemenbreathing.
’ButoneChristmasEve,’hewenton,inalower,sweetertone,’therewasnoonetotellmethestory,andIgrewtoforgetit,andwentawaytocollege,andlearnedtothinkthatitwasonlyachild’staleandwasnotformen.Thenbaddayscametomeandworse,andIbegantolosemygripofmyself,oflife,ofhope,ofgoodness,tilloneblackChristmas,intheslumsofafarawaycity,whenIhadgivenupall,andthedevil’sarmswereaboutme,I
heardthestoryagain.AndasIlistened,withabitteracheinmyheart,forIhadputitallbehindme,Isuddenlyfoundmyselfpeekingundertheshepherds’armswithachild’swonderattheBabyinthestraw.Thenitcameovermelikegreatwaves,thatHisnamewasJesus,becauseitwasHethatshouldsavemenfromtheirsins.
Save!Save!Thewaveskeptbeatinguponmyears,andbeforeI
knew,Ihadcalledout,"Oh!canHesaveme?"Itwasinalittlemissionmeetingononeofthesidestreets,andtheyseemedtobeusedtothatsortofthingthere,fornoonewassurprised;andayoungfellowleanedacrosstheaisletomeandsaid,"Why!youjustbetHecan!"HissurprisethatIshoulddoubt,hisbrightfaceandconfidenttone,gavemehopethatperhapsitmightbeso.Iheldtothathopewithallmysoul,and’——stretchinguphisarms,andwithaquickglowinhisfaceandalittlebreakinhisvoice,’Hehasn’tfailedmeyet;notonce,notonce!’
Hestoppedquiteshort,andIfeltagooddeallikemakingafoolofmyself,forinthosedaysIhadnotmadeupmymindaboutthesethings.Graeme,pooroldchap,wasgazingathimwithasadyearninginhisdarkeyes;bigSandywassittingverystiff,andstaringharderthaneverintothefire;Baptistewastremblingwithexcitement;Blaneywasopenlywipingthetearsaway.ButthefacethatheldmyeyeswasthatofoldmanNelson.Itwaswhite,fierce,hungry—looking,hissunkeneyesburning,hislipspartedasiftocry.
Theministerwenton.’Ididn’tmeantotellyouthis,men,itallcameovermewitharush;butitistrue,everyword,andnotawordwillItakeback.And,what’smore,Icantellyouthis,whatHedidformeHecandoforanyman,anditdoesn’tmakeanydifferencewhat’sbehindhim,and’——leaningslightlyforward,andwithalittlethrillofpathosvibratinginhisvoice——’Oboys,whydon’tyougiveHimachanceatyou?WithoutHimyou’llneverbethemenyouwanttobe,andyou’llnevergetthebetterofthatthat’skeepingsomeofyounowfromgoingbackhome.Youknowyou’llnevergobacktillyou’rethemenyouwanttobe.’Then,liftinguphisfaceandthrowingbackhishead,hesaid,asiftohimself,’Jesus!HeshallsaveHispeoplefromtheirsins,’andthen,’Letuspray.’
Graemeleanedforwardwithhisfaceinhishands;BaptisteandBlaneydroppedontheirknees;Sandy,theCampbells,andsomeothers,stoodup.OldmanNelsonheldhiseyessteadilyontheminister.
OnlyoncebeforehadIseenthatlookonahumanface.Ayoungfellowhadbrokenthroughtheiceontheriverathome,andastheblackwaterwasdragginghisfingersonebyonefromtheslipperyedges,therecameoverhisfacethatsamelook.Iusedtowakeupformanyanightafterinasweatofhorror,seeingthewhitefacewithitspartinglips,anditspiteous,dumbappeal,andtheblackwaterslowlysuckingitdown.
Nelson’sfacebroughtitallback;butduringtheprayerthefacechanged,andseemedtosettleintoresolveofsomesort,stern,almostgloomy,asofamanwithhislastchancebeforehim.
AftertheprayerMr.CraiginvitedthementoaChristmasdinnernextdayinBlackRock.’Andbecauseyouareanindependentlot,we’llchargeyouhalfadollarfordinnerandtheeveningshow.’
Thenleavingabundleofmagazinesandillustratedpapersonthetable——agodsendtothemen——hesaidgood—byeandwentout.
Iwastogowiththeminister,soIjumpedintothesleighfirst,andwaitedwhilehesaidgood—byetoGraeme,whohadbeenhardhitbythewholeservice,andseemedtowanttosaysomething.IheardMr.Craigsaycheerfullyandconfidently,’It’satruebill:tryHim.’
Sandy,whohadbeensteadyingDandywhilethatinterestingbronchowasattemptingwithgreatsuccesstobalancehimselfonhishindlegs,cametosaygood—bye.’Comeandseemefirstthing,Sandy.’
’Ay!Iknow;I’llseeye,Mr.Craig,’saidSandyearnestly,asDandydashedoffatafullgallopacrosstheclearingandoverthebridge,steadyingdownwhenhereachedthehill.
’Steady,youidiot!’
ThiswastoDandy,whohadtakenasuddensidespringintothedeepsnow,almostupsettingus.Amansteppedoutfromtheshadow.ItwasoldmanNelson.Hecamestraighttothesleigh,and,ignoringmypresencecompletely,said——
’Mr.Craig,areyoudeadsureofthis?Willitwork?’
’Doyoumean,’saidCraig,takinghimuppromptly,’canJesusChristsaveyoufromyoursinsandmakeamanofyou?’
Theoldmannodded,keepinghishungryeyesontheother’sface.
’Well,here’sHismessagetoyou:"TheSonofManiscometoseekandtosavethatwhichwaslost."’
’Tome?Tome?’saidtheoldmaneagerly.
’Listen;this,too,isHisWord:"HimthatcomethuntoMeIwillinnowisecastout."That’sforyou,forhereyouare,coming.’
’Youdon’tknowme,Mr.Craig.Ileftmybabyfifteenyearsagobecause——’
’Stop!’saidtheminister.’Don’ttellme,atleastnotto—night;
perhapsnever.TellHimwhoknowsitallnow,andwhoneverbetraysasecret.HaveitoutwithHim.Don’tbeafraidtotrustHim.’
Nelsonlookedathim,withhisfacequivering,andsaidinahuskyvoice,’Ifthisisnogood,it’shellforme.’
’Ifitisnogood,’repliedCraig,almoststernly,’it’shellforallofus.’
Theoldmanstraightenedhimselfup,lookedupatthestars,thenbackatMr.Craig,thenatme,and,drawingadeepbreath,said,’I’lltryHim.’Ashewasturningawaytheministertouchedhimonthearm,andsaidquietly,’KeepaneyeonSandyto—morrow.’
Nelsonnodded,andwewenton;butbeforewetookthenextturnI
lookedbackandsawwhatbroughtalumpintomythroat.ItwasoldmanNelsononhiskneesinthesnow,withhishandsspreadupwardtothestars,andIwonderediftherewasanyOneabovethestars,andnearerthanthestars,whocouldsee.AndthenthetreeshidhimfrommysightCHAPTERII
THEBLACKROCKCHRISTMAS
ManystrangeChristmasDayshaveIseen,butthatwildBlackRockChristmasstandsoutstrangestofall.WhileIwasrevellinginmydelicioussecondmorningsleep,justawakeenoughtoenjoyit,Mr.
Craigcameabruptly,announcingbreakfastandadding,’Hopeyouareingoodshape,forwehaveourworkbeforeusthisday.’
’Hello!’Ireplied,stillhalfasleep,andanxioustohidefromtheministerthatIwastryingtogainafewmoremomentsofsnoozingdelight,’what’sabroad?’.
’Thedevil,’heansweredshortly,andwithsuchemphasisthatIsatboltupright,lookinganxiouslyabout.
’Oh!noneedforalarm.He’snotafteryouparticularly——atleastnotto—day,’saidCraig,withashadowofasmile.’Butheisgoingaboutingoodstyle,Icantellyou.’
BythistimeIwasquiteawake.’Well,whatparticularstyledoesHisMajestyaffectthismorning?’
Hepulledoutashowbill.’Peculiarlygaudyandeffective,isitnot?’
Theitemsannouncedweresufficientlyattractive.The’FriscoOperaCompanyweretoproducethe’screamingfarce,’’TheGayandGiddyDude’;afterwhichtherewastobea’GrandBall,’duringwhichthe’KaliforniaFemaleKickers’weretodosomefancyfigures;thewholetobefollowedbya’bigsupper’with’twofreedrinkstoeverymanandonetothelady,’andallfortheinsignificantsumoftwodollars.
’Can’tyougoonebetter?’Isaid.
Helookedinquiringlyandalittledisgustedlyatme.
’Whatcanyoudoagainstfreedrinksandadance,nottospeakofthe"HighKickers"?’hegroaned.
’No!’hecontinued;’it’sacleanbeatforustoday.Theminersandlumbermenwillhaveintheirpocketstenthousanddollars,andeverydollarburningahole;andSlavinandhisgangwillgetmostofit.But,’headded,’youmusthavebreakfast.You’llfindatubinthekitchen;don’tbeafraidtosplash.ItisthebestI
havetoofferyou.’
Thetubsoundedinviting,andbeforemanyminuteshadpassedIwasinadelightfulglow,theeffectofcoldwaterandaroughtowel,andthatconsciousnessofvirtuethatcomestoamanwhohashadcouragetofacehiscoldbathonawintermorning.
Thebreakfastwaslaidwithfinetaste.Adiminutivepine—tree,inapothungroundwithwintergreen,stoodinthecentreofthetable.
’Well,now,thislooksgood;porridge,beefsteak,potatoes,toast,andmarmalade.’
’Ihopeyouwillenjoyitall.’
Therewasnotmuchtalkoverourmeal.Mr.Craigwasevidentlypreoccupied,andasblueashispolitenesswouldallowhim.
Slavin’svictoryweigheduponhisspirits.Finallyheburstout,’Lookhere!Ican’t,Iwon’tstandit;somethingmustbedone.
LastChristmasthistownwasfortwoweeks,asoneoftheminerssaid,"alittlesuburbofhell."Itwassomethingtooawful.Andattheendofitalloneyoungfellowwasfounddeadinhisshack,andtwentyormorecrawledbacktothecamps,leavingtheirthreemonths’paywithSlavinandhissuckers.
’Iwon’tstandit,Isay.’Heturnedfiercelyonme.’What’stobedone?’
Thisrathertookmeaback,forIhadtroubledmyselfwithnothingofthissortinmylifebefore,beingfullyoccupiedinkeepingmyselfoutofdifficulty,andallowingothersthesameprivilege.
SoIventuredtheconsolationthathehaddonehispart,andthataspreemoreorlesswouldnotmakemuchdifferencetothesemen.
ButthenextmomentIwishedIhadbeenslowerinspeech,forheswiftlyfacedme,andhiswordscamelikeatorrent.
’Godforgiveyouthatheartlessword!Doyouknow——?Butno;youdon’tknowwhatyouaresaying.Youdon’tknowthatthesemenhavebeenclamberingfordearlifeoutofafearfulpitforthreemonthspast,anddoinggoodclimbingtoo,poorchaps.Youdon’tthinkthatsomeofthemhavewives,mostofthemmothersandsisters,intheeastoracrossthesea,forwhosesaketheyareslavinghere;
theminershopingtosaveenoughtobringtheirfamiliestothishomelessplace,theresttomakeenoughtogobackwithcredit.
Why,there’sNixon,miner,splendidchap;hasbeenherefortwoyears,anddrawingthehighestpay.Twicehehasbeeninsightofhisheaven,forhecan’tspeakofhiswifeandbabieswithoutbreakingup,andtwicethatslicksonofthedevil——that’sScripture,mindyou——Slavin,gothim,and"rolled"him,astheboyssay.Hewentbacktotheminesbrokeninbodyandinheart.Hesaysthisishisthirdandlastchance.IfSlavingetshim,hiswifeandbabieswillneverseehimonearthorinheaven.ThereisSandy,too,andtherest.And,’headded,inalowertone,andwiththecuriouslittlethrillofpathosinhisvoice,’thisisthedaytheSaviourcametotheworld.’Hepaused,andthenwithalittlesadsmile,’ButIdon’twanttoabuseyou.’
’Do,Ienjoyit,I’mabeast,aselfishbeast’;forsomehowhisintense,blazingearnestnessmademefeeluncomfortablysmall.
’Whathavewetooffer?’Idemanded.
’WaittillIhavegotthesethingsclearedaway,andmyhousekeepingdone.’
Ipressedmyservicesuponhim,somewhatfeebly,Iown,forIcan’tbeardishwater;butherejectedmyoffer.
’Idon’tliketrustingmychinatothehandsofatender—foot.’
’Quiteright,thoughyourchinawouldproveanexcellentmeansofdefenceatlongrange.’Itwasdelf,aquarterofaninchthick.
SoIsmokedwhilehewashedup,swept,dusted,andarrangedtheroom.
Aftertheroomwasorderedtohistaste,weproceededtoholdcouncil.Hecouldofferdinner,magiclantern,music.’Wecanfillintimefortwohours,but,’headdedgloomily,’wecan’tbeatthedanceandthe"HighKickers."’
’Haveyounothingneworstartling?’
Heshookhishead.
’Nokindofshow?Dogshow?Snakecharmer?’
’Slavinhasamonopolyofthesnakes.’
Thenheaddedhesitatingly,’TherewasanoldPunch—and—Judychapherelastyear,buthedied.Whiskyagain.’
’Whathappenedtohisshow?’
’TheBlackRockHotelmantookitforboardandwhiskybill.Hehasitstill,Isuppose.’
Ididnotmuchrelishthebusiness;butIhatedtoseehimbeaten,soIventured,’IhaverunaPunchandJudyinanamateurwayatthe’Varsity.’
Hesprangtohisfeetwithayell.
’Youhave!youmeantosayit?We’vegotthem!We’vebeatenthem!’Hehadanextraordinarywayoftakingyourhelpforgranted.’Theminerchaps,mostlyEnglishandWelsh,wentmadoverthepooroldshowman,andmadehimsowealthythatinsheergratitudehedrankhimselftodeath.’
HewalkedupanddowninhighexcitementandinsuchevidentdelightthatIfeltpledgedtomybesteffort.
’Well,’Isaid,’firsttheposter.Wemustbeattheminthat.’
Hebroughtmelargesheetsofbrownpaper,andaftertwohours’
hardworkIhadhalfadozenpictorialshowbillsdoneingorgeouscoloursandstrikingdesigns.Theyweregood,ifIdosayitmyself.
Theturkey,themagiclantern,thePunchandJudyshowwereallthere,thelastwithacrowdbeforeitingapingdelight.Afewexplanatorywordswerethrownin,emphasisingthehighlyartisticnatureofthePunchandJudyentertainment.
Craigwasdelighted,andproceededtoperfecthisplans.Hehadsomehalfadozenyoungmen,fouryoungladies,andeightortenmatrons,uponwhomhecoulddependforhelp.TheseheorganisedintoavigilancecommitteechargedwiththedutyofpreventingminersandlumbermenfromgettingawaytoSlavin’s.’Thecriticalmomentswillbeimmediatelybeforeandafterdinner,andthenagainaftertheshowisover,’heexplained.’ThefirsttwocrisesmustbelefttothecareofPunchandJudy,andasforthelast,Iamnotyetsurewhatshallbedone’;butIsawhehadsomethinginhishead,forheadded,’IshallseeMrs.Mavor.’
’WhoisMrs.Mavor?’Iasked.Buthemadenoreply.Hewasabornfighter,andheputthefightingspiritintousall.Wewereboundtowin.
Thesportsweretobeginattwoo’clock.Bylunch—timeeverythingwasinreadiness.AfterlunchIwashavingaquietsmokeinCraig’sshackwheninherushed,saying——
’Thebattlewillbelostbeforeitisfought.IfweloseQuatreBras,weshallnevergettoWaterloo.’
’What’sup?’
’Slavin,justnow.Theminersarecomingin,andhewillhavethemintowinhalfanhour.’
Helookedatmeappealingly.Iknewwhathewanted.
’Allright;IsupposeImust,butitisanawfulborethatamancan’thaveaquietsmoke.’
’You’renothalfabadfellow,’hereplied,smiling.’Ishallgettheladiestofurnishcoffeeinsidethebooth.YoufurnishthemintellectualnourishmentinfrontwithdearoldPunchandJudy.’
Hesentaboywithabellroundthevillageannouncing,’Punch,andJudyinfrontoftheChristmasboothbesidethechurch’;andforthree—quartersofanhourIshriekedandsweatedinthatawfullittlepen.Butitwasalmostworthittoheartheshoutsofapprovalandlaughterthatgreetedmyperformance.Itwascoldworkstandingabout,sothatthecrowdwasquitereadytorespondwhenPunch,afterbeingdulyhanged,cameforwardandinvitedallintotheboothforthehotcoffeewhichJudyhadordered.
Intheytrooped,andQuatreBraswaswon.
NosoonerweretheminerssafelyengagedwiththeircoffeethanI
heardagreatnoiseofbellsandofmenshouting;andonreachingthestreetIsawthatthemenfromthelumbercampwerecomingin.
Twoimmensesleighs,decoratedwithribbonsandspruceboughs,eachdrawnbyafour—horseteamgailyadorned,filledwithsomefiftymen,singingandshoutingwithalltheirmight,werecomingdownthehillroadatfullgallop.Roundthecornertheyswung,dashedatfullspeedacrossthebridgeanddownthestreet,andpulledupaftertheyhadmadethecircuitofablock,tothegreatadmirationoftheonlookers.AmongothersSlavinsaunteredupgood—naturedly,makinghimselfagreeabletoSandyandthosewhowerehelpingtounhitchhisteam.
’Oh,youneednottaketroublewithmeormyteam,MikeSlavin.
Batcheesandmeandtheboyscanlookafterthemfine,’saidSandycoolly.
ThisrejectingofhospitalitywasperfectlyunderstoodbySlavinandbyall.
’Dat’stoobad,heh?’saidBaptistewickedly;’and,Sandy,he’sgotgoodmoneyonhispocketforsure,too.’Theboyslaughed,andSlavin,joiningin,turnedawaywithKeeleandBlaney;butbythelookinhiseyeIknewhewasplaying’Br’erRabbit,’andlyinglow.
Mr.Craigjustthencameup,’Hello,boys!toolateforPunchandJudy,butjustintimeforhotcoffeeanddoughnuts.’
’Bon;dat’sfussrate,’saidBaptisteheartily;’whereyoukeephim?’
’Upinthetentnextthechurchthere.Theminersareallin.’
’Ah,datso?Dat’sbadnewsfortheshantymen,heh,Sandy?’saidthelittleFrenchmandolefully.
’Therewasaclothes—basketfullofdoughnutsandaboilerofcoffeeleftasIpassedjustnow,’saidCraigencouragingly.
’Allons,mesgarcons;vite!neversaykeel!’criedBaptisteexcitedly,strippingofftheharness.
ButSandywouldnotleavethehorsestilltheywerecarefullyrubbeddown,blanketed,andfed,forhewasenteredforthefour—
horseraceanditbehovedhimtodohisbesttowin.Besides,hescornedtohurryhimselfforanythingsounimportantaseating;
thatheconsideredhardlyworthyevenofBaptiste.Mr.Craigmanagedtogetawordwithhimbeforehewentoff,andIsawSandysolemnlyandemphaticallyshakehishead,saying,’Ah!we’llbeathimthisday,’andIgatheredthathewasaddedtothevigilancecommittee.
OldmanNelsonwasbusywithhisownteam.HeturnedslowlyatMr.
Craig’sgreeting,’Howisit,Nelson?’anditwaswithaverygravevoiceheanswered,’Ihardlyknow,sir;butIamnotgoneyet,thoughitseemslittletoholdto.’
’Allyouwantforagripiswhatyourhandcancover.Whatwouldyouhave?Andbesides,doyouknowwhyyouarenotgoneyet?’
Theoldmanwaited,lookingattheministergravely.
’BecauseHehasn’tletgoHisgripofyou.’
’HowdoyouknowHe’sgrippedme?’
’Now,lookhere,Nelson,doyouwanttoquitthisthingandgiveitallup?’
’No,no!Forheaven’ssake,no!Why,doyouthinkIhavelostit?’saidNelson,almostpiteously.
’Well,He’skeeneraboutitthanyou;andI’llbetyouhaven’tthoughtitworthwhiletothankHim.’
’TothankHim,’herepeated,almoststupidly,’for——’
’Forkeepingyouwhereyouareovernight,’saidMr.Craig,almoststernly.
Theoldmangazedattheminister,alightgrowinginhiseyes.
’You’reright.ThankGod,you’reright.’Andthenheturnedquicklyaway,andwentintothestablebehindhisteam.Itwasaminutebeforehecameout.Overhisfacetherewasatremblingjoy.
’CanIdoanythingforyouto—day?’heaskedhumbly.
’Indeedyoujustcan,’saidtheminister,takinghishandandshakingitverywarmly;andthenhetoldhimSlavin’sprogrammeandours.
’Sandyisallrighttillafterhisrace.Afterthatishistimeofdanger,’saidtheminister.
’I’llstaywithhim,sir,’saidoldNelson,inthetoneofamantakingacovenant,andimmediatelysetoffforthecoffee—tent.
’Herecomesanotherrecruitforyourcorps,’Isaid,pointingtoLeslieGraeme,whowascomingdownthestreetatthatmomentinhislightsleigh.
’Iamnotsosure.Doyouthinkyoucouldgethim?’
Ilaughed.’Youareagoodone.’
’Well,’hereplied,halfdefiantly,’isnotthisyourfighttoo?’
’Youmakemethinkso,thoughIamboundtosayIhardlyrecognisemyselftoday.Butheregoes,’andbeforeIknewitIwasdescribingourplanstoGraeme,growingmoreandmoreenthusiasticashesatinhissleigh,listeningwithaquizzicalsmileIdidn’tquitelike.
’He’sgotyoutoo,’hesaid;’Ifearedso.’
’Well,’Ilaughed,’perhapsso.ButIwanttolickthatmanSlavin.I’vejustseenhim,andhe’sjustwhatCraigcallshim,"aslicksonofthedevil."Don’tbeshocked;hesaysitisScripture.’
’Revisedversion,’saidGraemegravely,whileCraiglookedalittleabashed.
’Whatisassignedme,Mr.Craig?forIknowthatthismanissimplyyouragent.’
Irepudiatedtheidea,whileMr.Craigsaidnothing.
’What’smypart?’demandedGraeme.
’Well,’saidMr.Craighesitatingly,’ofcourseIwoulddonothingtillIhadconsultedyou;butIwantamantotakemyplaceatthesports.Iamreferee.’
’That’sallright,’saidGraeme,withanairofrelief;’Iexpectedsomethinghard.’
’AndthenIthoughtyouwouldnotmindpresidingatdinner——Iwantittogooffwell.’
’Didyounoticethat?’saidGraemetome.’Notabadtouch,eh?’
’That’snothingtothewayhetouchedme.Waitandlearn,’I
answered,whileCraiglookedquitedistressed.’He’lldoit,Mr.
Craig,neverfear,’Isaid,’andanyotherlittledutythatmayoccurtoyou.’
’Nowthat’stoobadofyou.ThatisallIwant,honourbright,’hereplied;adding,asheturnedaway,’youarejustintimeforacupofcoffee,Mr.Graeme.NowImustseeMrs.Mavor.’
’WhoisMrs.Mavor?’IdemandedofGraeme.
’Mrs.Mavor?Theminers’guardianangel.’
Weputupthehorsesandsetoffforcoffee.AsweapproachedtheboothGraemecaughtsightofthePunchandJudyshow,stoodstillinamazement,andexclaimed,’Canthedeadlive?’
’PunchandJudyneverdie,’Irepliedsolemnly.
’Buttheoldmanipulatorisdeadenough,pooroldbeggar!’
’Buthelefthismantle,asyousee.’
Helookedatmeamoment’What!doyoumean,you——?’
’Yes,thatisexactlywhatIdomean.’
’Heisgreatman,thatCraigfellow——atrulygreatman.’
Andthenheleanedupagainstatreeandlaughedtillthetearscame.’Isay,oldboy,don’tmindme,’hegasped,’butdoyouremembertheold’Varsityshow?’
’Yes,youvillain;andIrememberyourpartinit.Iwonderhowyoucan,evenatthisremotedate,laughatit.’ForIhadavividrecollectionofhow,aftera’chasteandhighlyartisticperformanceofthismediaevalplay’hadbeengivenbeforeadistinguishedTorontoaudience,thetrapdoorbywhichIhadenteredmyboxwasfastened,andIwaslefttoswelterinmycage,andforcedtolistentothesuffocatedlaughterfromthewingsandthestagewhispersof’Hello,Mr.Punch,where’sthebaby?’AndformanyadayafterIwassubjectedtoanxiousinquiriesastothelocalityandhealthof’thebaby,’andwhetheritwasabletobeout.
’Oh,thedearolddays!’hekeptsaying,overandover,inatonesofullofsadnessthatmyheartgrewsoreforhimandIforgavehim,asmanyatimebefore.
ThesportspassedoffintypicalWesternstyle.Inadditiontotheusualrunningandleapingcontests,therewasrifleandpistolshooting,inbothofwhicholdmanNelsonstoodfirst,withShaw,foremanofthemines,second.
Thegreateventoftheday,however,wastobethefour—horserace,forwhichthreeteamswereentered——onefromtheminesdrivenbyNixon,Craig’sfriend,acitizens’team,andSandy’s.Theracewasreallybetweentheminers’team,andthatfromthewoods,forthecitizens’team,thoughmadeupofspeedyhorses,hadnotbeendrivenmuchtogether,andknewneithertheirdrivernoreachother.
Intheminers’teamwerefourbays,verypowerful,atrifleheavyperhaps,butwellmatched,perfectlytrained,andperfectlyhandledbytheirdriver.Sandyhadhislongrangyroans,andforleadersapairofhalf—brokenpintobronchos.Thepintos,caughtthesummerbeforeupontheAlbertaprairies,werefleetasdeer,butwickedanduncertain.TheywereBaptiste’sspecialcareandpride.Iftheywouldonlyrunstraighttherewaslittledoubtthattheywouldcarrytheroansandthemselvestoglory;butonecouldnottellthemomenttheymightboltorkickthingstopieces.
Beingtheonlynon—partisaninthecrowdIwasaskedtoreferee.