Black Rock ...........................................................................................................................................................1

Ralph Connor ...........................................................................................................................................1

INTRODUCTION...................................................................................................................................1

CHAPTER I. CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP....................................................................2

CHAPTER II. THE BLACK ROCK CHRISTMAS...............................................................................8

CHAPTER III. WATERLOO. OUR FIGHTHIS VICTORY ..........................................................17

CHAPTER IV. MRS. MAVOR'S STORY ............................................................................................24

CHAPTER V. THE MAKING OF THE LEAGUE..............................................................................30

CHAPTER VI. BLACK ROCK RELIGION .........................................................................................35

CHAPTER VII. THE FIRST BLACK ROCK COMMUNION ............................................................40

CHAPTER VIII. THE BREAKING OF THE LEAGUE......................................................................46

CHAPTER IX. THE LEAGUE'S REVENGE .......................................................................................53

CHAPTER X. WHAT CAME TO SLAVIN .........................................................................................59

CHAPTER XI. THE TWO CALLS .......................................................................................................68

CHAPTER XII. LOVE IS NOT ALL ....................................................................................................76

CHAPTER XIII. HOW NELSON CAME HOME ................................................................................80

CHAPTERS XIV. GRAEME'S NEW BIRTH ......................................................................................84

CHAPTER XV. COMING TO THEIR OWN .......................................................................................91

I think I have met "Ralph Conner." Indeed, I am sure I haveonce in a canoe on the Red River, once on the

Assinaboine, and twice or thrice on the prairies to the West. That was not the name he gave me, but, if I am

right, it covers one of the most honest and genial of the strong characters that are fighting the devil and doing

good work for men all over the world. He has seen with his own eyes the life which he describes in this book,

and has himself, for some years of hard and lonely toil, assisted in the good influences which he traces among

its wild and often hopeless conditions. He writes with the freshness and accuracy of an eyewitness, with the

style (as I think his readers will allow) of a real artist, and with the tenderness and hopefulness of a man not

only of faith but of experience, who has seen in fulfillment the ideals for which he lives.

The life to which he takes us, though far off and very strange to our tame minds, is the life of our brothers.

Into the Northwest of Canada the young men of Great Britain and Ireland have been pouring (I was told),

sometimes at the rate of 48,000 a year. Our brothers who left home yesterdayour hearts cannot but follow

them. With these pages Ralph Conner enables our eyes and our minds to follow, too; nor do I think there is

any one who shall read this book and not find also that his conscience is quickened. There is a warfare

appointed unto man upon earth, and its struggles are nowhere more intense, nor the victories of the strong,

nor the succors brought to the fallen, more heroic, than on the fields described in this volume.

The story of the book is true, and chief of the failures in the making of the book is this, that it is not all the

truth. The light is not bright enough, the shadow is not black enough to give a true picture of that bit of

Western life of which the writer was some small part. The men of the book are still there in the mines and

lumber camps of the mountains, fighting out that eternal fight for manhood, strong, clean, Godconquered.

And, when the west winds blow, to the open ear the sounds of battle come, telling the fortunes of the fight.

Because a man's life is all he has, and because the only hope of the brave young West lies in its men, this

story is told. It may be that the tragic pity of a broken life may move some to pray, and that that divine power

there is in a single brave heart to summon forth hope and courage may move some to fight. If so, the tale is

It was due to a mysterious dispensation of Providence, and a good deal to Leslie Graeme, that I found myself

in the heart of the Selkirks for my Christmas Eve as the year 1882 was dying. It had been my plan to spend

my Christmas far away in Toronto, with such Bohemian and boon companions as could be found in that

cosmopolitan and kindly city. But Leslie Graeme changed all that, for, discovering me in the village of Black

Rock, with my traps all packed, waiting for the stage to start for the Landing, thirty miles away, he bore down

upon me with resistless force, and I found myself recovering from my surprise only after we had gone in his

lumber sleigh some six miles on our way to his camp up in the mountains. I was surprised and much

delighted, though I would not allow him to think so, to find that his oldtime power over me was still there.

He could always in the old 'Varsity daysdear, wild daysmake me do what he liked. He was so handsome

and so reckless, brilliant in his classwork, and the prince of halfbacks on the Rugby field, and with such

power of fascination, as would 'extract the heart out of a wheelbarrow,' as Barney Lundy used to say. And

thus it was that I found myself just three weeks laterI was to have spent two or three days,on the

afternoon of the 24th of December, standing in Graeme's Lumber Camp No. 2, wondering at myself. But I

did not regret my changed plans, for in those three weeks I had raided a cinnamon bear's den and had

wakened up a grizzly But I shall let the grizzly finish the tale; he probably sees more humour in it than I.

The camp stood in a little clearing, and consisted of a group of three long, low shanties with smaller shacks

near them, all built of heavy, unhewn logs, with door and window in each. The grub camp, with cookshed

attached, stood in the middle of the clearing; at a little distance was the sleepingcamp with the office built

against it, and about a hundred yards away on the other side of the clearing stood the stables, and near them

the smiddy. The mountains rose grandly on every side, throwing up their great peaks into the sky. The

clearing in which the camp stood was hewn out of a dense pine forest that filled the valley and climbed half

It was one of those wonderful Canadian winter days, bright, and with a touch of sharpness in the air that did

not chill, but warmed the blood like draughts of wine. The men were up in the woods, and the shrill scream of

the blue jay flashing across the open, the impudent chatter of the red squirrel from the top of the grub camp,

and the pert chirp of the whiskyjack, hopping about on the rubbishheap, with the long, lone cry of the wolf

As I stood drinking in with all my soul the glorious beauty and the silence of mountain and forest, with the

Christmas feeling stealing into me, Graeme came out from his office, and, catching sight of me, called out,

'Glorious Christmas weather, old chap!' And then, coming nearer, 'Must you go tomorrow?'

I turned eagerly to persuade him, but at the look of suffering in his face the words died at my lips, for we both

were thinking of the awful night of horror when all his bright, brilliant life crashed down about him in black

ruin and shame. I could only throw my arm over his shoulder and stand silent beside him. A sudden jingle of

bells roused him, and, giving himself a little shake, he exclaimed, 'There are the boys coming home.'

Soon the camp was filled with men talking, laughing, chaffing, like lighthearted boys.

'They are a little wild tonight,' said Graeme; 'and to morrow they'll paint Black Rock red.'

Before many minutes had gone, the last teamster was 'washed up,' and all were standing about waiting

impatiently for the cook's signalthe supper tonight was to be 'something of a feed'when the sound of

bells drew their attention to a light sleigh drawn by a buckskin broncho coming down the hillside at a great

'Bedad, and it's him has the foine nose for turkey!' said Blaney, a goodnatured, jovial Irishman.

'Yes, or for payday, more like,' said Keefe, a blackbrowed, villainous fellowcountryman of Blaney's, and,

Big Sandy M'Naughton, a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry, rose up in wrath. 'Bill Keefe,' said he, with

deliberate emphasis, 'you'll just keep your dirty tongue off the minister; and as for your pay, it's little he sees

of it, or any one else, except Mike Slavin, when you're too dry to wait for some one to treat you, or perhaps

'Bon; dat's good for you, my bully boy,' said Baptiste, a wiry little FrenchCanadian, Sandy's sworn ally and

devoted admirer ever since the day when the big Scotsman, under great provocation, had knocked him clean

It was not till afterwards I learned the cause of Sandy's sudden wrath which urged him to such unwonted

length of speech. It was not simply that the Presbyterian blood carried with it reverence for the minister and

contempt for Papists and Fenians, but that he had a vivid remembrance of how, only a month ago, the

minister had got him out of Mike Slavin's saloon and out the clutches of Keefe and Slavin and their gang of

Keefe started up with a curse. Baptiste sprang to Sandy's side, slapped him on the back, and called out, 'You

It looked as if there might be a fight, when a harsh voice said in a low, savage tone, 'Stop your row, you blank

fools; settle it, if you want to, somewhere else.' I turned, and was amazed to see old man Nelson, who was

There was a look of scorn on his hard, irongrey face, and of such settled fierceness as made me quite believe

the tales I had heard of his deadly fights in the mines at the coast. Before any reply could be made, the

minister drove up and called out in a cheery voice, 'Merry Christmas, boys! Hello, Sandy! Comment ca va,

'First rate. Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Connor, sometime medical student, now artist, hunter, and tramp

'A man to be envied,' said the minister, smiling. 'I am glad to know any friend of Mr. Graeme's.'

I liked Mr. Craig from the first. He had good eyes that looked straight out at you, a cleancut, strong face

well set on his shoulders, and altogether an upstanding, manly bearing. He insisted on going with Sandy to

'Decent fellow,' said Graeme; 'but though he is good enough to his broncho, it is Sandy that's in his mind

'I have no doubt he thinks so; and I'm blowed if he doesn't make the Presbyterians of us think so too.' And he

added after a pause, 'A dandy lot of parishioners we are for any man. There's Sandy, now, he would knock

Keefe's head off as a kind of religious exercise; but tomorrow Keefe will be sober, and Sandy will be drunk

as a lord, and the drunker he is the better Presbyterian he'll be; to the preacher's disgust.' Then after another

pause he added bitterly, 'But it is not for me to throw rocks at Sandy; I am not the same kind of fool, but I am

Then the cook came out and beat a tattoo on the bottom of a dish pan. Baptiste answered with a yell: but

though keenly hungry, no man would demean himself to do other than walk with apparent reluctance to his

place at the table. At the further end of the camp was a big fireplace, and from the door to the fireplace

extended the long board tables, covered with platters of turkey not too scientifically carved, dishes of

potatoes, bowls of apple sauce, plates of butter, pies, and smaller dishes distributed at regular intervals. Two

lanterns hanging from the roof, and a row of candles stuck into the wall on either side by means of slit sticks,

There was a moment's silence, and at a nod from Graeme Mr. Craig rose and said, 'I don't know how you feel

'Fire ahead, sir,' called out a voice quite respectfully, and the minister bent his head and said

'For Christ the Lord who came to save us, for all the love and goodness we have known, and for these Thy

'Bon, dat's fuss rate,' said Baptiste. 'Seems lak dat's make me hit (eat) more better for sure,' and then no word

was spoken for quarter of an hour. The occasion was far too solemn and moments too precious for anything

so empty as words. But when the white piles of bread and the brown piles of turkey had for a second time

vanished, and after the last pie had disappeared, there came a pause and hush of expectancy, whereupon the

'Hooray!' yelled Blaney, 'up wid yez!' and grabbing the cook by the shoulders from behind, he faced him

Mr. Craig was the first to respond, and seizing the cookee in the same way, called out, 'Squad, fall in! quick

'Strike up, Batchees, ye little angel!' shouted Blaney, the appellation a concession to the minister's presence;

'Then blow, ye winds, in the morning, Blow, ye winds, ay oh! Blow, ye winds, in the morning, Blow, blow,

And at each 'blow' every boot came down with a thump on the plank floor that shook the solid roof. After the

In the silence following the cheers Baptiste was heard to say, 'Bon! dat's mak me feel lak hit dat puddin' all

'Fu sure! but de more stomach dat's more better for dis puddin',' replied the little Frenchman cheerfully.

After a time the tables were cleared and pushed back to the wall, and pipes were produced. In all attitudes

suggestive of comfort the men disposed themselves in a wide circle about the fire, which now roared and

crackled up the great wooden chimney hanging from the roof. The lumberman's hour of bliss had arrived.

Even old man Nelson looked a shade less melancholy than usual as he sat alone, well away from the fire,

smoking steadily and silently. When the second pipes were well agoing, one of the men took down a violin

from the wall and handed it to Lachlan Campbell. There were two brothers Campbell just out from Argyll,

typical Highlanders: Lachlan, dark, silent, melancholy, with the face of a mystic, and Angus, redhaired,

quick, impulsive, and devoted to his brother, a devotion he thought proper to cover under biting, sarcastic

Lachlan, after much protestation, interspersed with gibes from his brother, took the violin, and, in response to

the call from all sides, struck up 'Lord Macdonald's Reel.' In a moment the floor was filled with dancers,

whooping and cracking their fingers in the wildest manner. Then Baptiste did the 'Red River Jig,' a most

intricate and difficult series of steps, the men keeping time to the music with hands and feet.

When the jig was finished, Sandy called for 'Lochaber No More'; but Campbell said, 'No, no! I cannot play

Craig took the violin, and at the first note I knew he was no ordinary player. I did not recognise the music, but

it was soft and thrilling, and got in by the heart, till every one was thinking his tenderest and saddest

After he had played two or three exquisite bits, he gave Campbell his violin, saying, 'Now, "Lochaber,"

Without a word Lachlan began, not 'Lochaber'he was not ready for that yetbut 'The Flowers o' the

Forest,' and from that wandered through 'Auld Robin Gray' and 'The Land o' the Leal,' and so got at last to

that most soulsubduing of Scottish laments, 'Lochaber No More.' At the first strain, his brother, who had

thrown himself on some blankets behind the fire, turned over on his face, feigning sleep. Sandy M'Naughton

took his pipe out of his mouth, and sat up straight and stiff, staring into vacancy, and Graeme, beyond the

fire, drew a short, sharp breath. We had often sat, Graeme and I, in our studentdays, in the drawingroom at

home, listening to his father wailing out 'Lochaber' upon the pipes, and I well knew that the awful minor

Over and over again the Highlander played his lament. He had long since forgotten us, and was seeing

visions of the hills and lochs and glens of his faraway native land, and making us, too, see strange things out

of the dim past. I glanced at old man Nelson, and was startled at the eager, almost piteous, look in his eyes,

and I wished Campbell would stop. Mr. Craig caught my eye, and, stepping over to Campbell, held out his

hand for the violin. Lingeringly and lovingly the Highlander drew out the last strain, and silently gave the

Without a moment's pause, and while the spell of 'Lochaber' was still upon us, the minister, with exquisite

skill, fell into the refrain of that simple and beautiful campmeeting hymn, 'The Sweet By and By.' After

playing the verse through once, he sang softly the refrain. After the first verse, the men joined in the chorus;

at first timidly, but by the time the third verse was reached they were shouting with throats full open, 'We

shall meet on that beautiful shore.' When I looked at Nelson the eager light had gone out of his eyes, and in

its place was kind of determined hopelessness, as if in this new music he had no part.

After the voices had ceased, Mr. Craig played again the refrain, more and more softly and slowly; then laying

the violin on Campbell's knees, he drew from his pocket his little Bible, and said

'Men, with Mr. Graeme's permission, I want to read you something this Christmas Eve. You will all have

His voice was soft, but clear and penetrating, as he read the eternal story of the angels and the shepherds and

the Babe. And as he read, a slight motion of the hand or a glance of an eye made us see, as he was seeing, that

whole radiant drama. The wonder, the timid joy, the tenderness, the mystery of it all, were borne in upon us

with overpowering effect. He closed the book, and in the same low, clear voice went on to tell us how, in his

home years ago, he used to stand on Christmas Eve listening in thrilling delight to his mother telling him the

story, and how she used to make him see the shepherds and hear the sheep bleating near by, and how the

'I used to be a little afraid of the angels, because a boy told me they were ghosts; but my mother told me

better, and I didn't fear them any more. And the Baby, the dear little Babywe all love a baby.' There was a

quick, dry sob; it was from Nelson. 'I used to peek through under to see the little one in the straw, and wonder

what things swaddling clothes were. Oh, it was all so real and so beautiful!' He paused, and I could hear the

'But one Christmas Eve,' he went on, in a lower, sweeter tone, 'there was no one to tell me the story, and I

grew to forget it, and went away to college, and learned to think that it was only a child's tale and was not for

men. Then bad days came to me and worse, and I began to lose my grip of myself, of life, of hope, of

goodness, till one black Christmas, in the slums of a faraway city, when I had given up all, and the devil's

arms were about me, I heard the story again. And as I listened, with a bitter ache in my heart, for I had put it

all behind me, I suddenly found myself peeking under the shepherds' arms with a child's wonder at the Baby

in the straw. Then it came over me like great waves, that His name was Jesus, because it was He that should

save men from their sins. Save! Save! The waves kept beating upon my ears, and before I knew, I had called

out, "Oh! can He save me?" It was in a little mission meeting on one of the side streets, and they seemed to be

used to that sort of thing there, for no one was surprised; and a young fellow leaned across the aisle to me and

said, "Why! you just bet He can!" His surprise that I should doubt, his bright face and confident tone, gave

me hope that perhaps it might be so. I held to that hope with all my soul, and'stretching up his arms, and

with a quick glow in his face and a little break in his voice, 'He hasn't failed me yet; not once, not once!'

He stopped quite short, and I felt a good deal like making a fool of myself, for in those days I had not made

up my mind about these things. Graeme, poor old chap, was gazing at him with a sad yearning in his dark

eyes; big Sandy was sitting very stiff, and staring harder than ever into the fire; Baptiste was trembling with

excitement; Blaney was openly wiping the tears away. But the face that held my eyes was that of old man

Nelson. It was white, fierce, hungrylooking, his sunken eyes burning, his lips parted as if to cry.

The minister went on. 'I didn't mean to tell you this, men, it all came over me with a rush; but it is true, every

word, and not a word will I take back. And, what's more, I can tell you this, what He did for me He can do for

any man, and it doesn't make any difference what's behind him, and'leaning slightly forward, and with a

little thrill of pathos vibrating in his voice'O boys, why don't you give Him a chance at you? Without Him

you'll never be the men you want to be, and you'll never get the better of that that's keeping some of you now

from going back home. You know you'll never go back till you're the men you want to be.' Then, lifting up

his face and throwing back his head, he said, as if to himself, 'Jesus! He shall save His people from their sins,'

Graeme leaned forward with his face in his hands; Baptiste and Blaney dropped on their knees; Sandy, the

Campbells, and some others, stood up. Old man Nelson held his eyes steadily on the minister.

Only once before had I seen that look on a human face. A young fellow had broken through the ice on the

river at home, and as the black water was dragging his fingers one by one from the slippery edges, there came

over his face that same look. I used to wake up for many a night after in a sweat of horror, seeing the white

face with its parting lips, and its piteous, dumb appeal, and the black water slowly sucking it down.

Nelson's face brought it all back; but during the prayer the face changed, and seemed to settle into resolve of

After the prayer Mr. Craig invited the men to a Christmas dinner next day in Black Rock. 'And because you

are an independent lot, we'll charge you half a dollar for dinner and the evening show.' Then leaving a bundle

of magazines and illustrated papers on the tablea godsend to the menhe said goodbye and went out.

I was to go with the minister, so I jumped into the sleigh first, and waited while he said goodbye to Graeme,

who had been hard hit by the whole service, and seemed to want to say something. I heard Mr. Craig say

Sandy, who had been steadying Dandy while that interesting broncho was attempting with great success to

balance himself on his hind legs, came to say goodbye. 'Come and see me first thing, Sandy.'

'Ay! I know; I'll see ye, Mr. Craig,' said Sandy earnestly, as Dandy dashed off at a full gallop across the

This was to Dandy, who had taken a sudden side spring into the deep snow, almost upsetting us. A man

stepped out from the shadow. It was old man Nelson. He came straight to the sleigh, and, ignoring my

'Do you mean,' said Craig, taking him up promptly, 'can Jesus Christ save you from your sins and make a

'Well, here's His message to you: "The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost."'

'Listen; this, too, is His Word: "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out." That's for you, for here

'Stop!' said the minister. 'Don't tell me, at least not tonight; perhaps never. Tell Him who knows it all now,

and who never betrays a secret. Have it out with Him. Don't be afraid to trust Him.'

Nelson looked at him, with his face quivering, and said in a husky voice, 'If this is no good, it's hell for me.'

The old man straightened himself up, looked up at the stars, then back at Mr. Craig, then at me, and, drawing

a deep breath, said, 'I'll try Him.' As he was turning away the minister touched him on the arm, and said

Nelson nodded, and we went on; but before we took the next turn I looked back and saw what brought a lump

into my throat. It was old man Nelson on his knees in the snow, with his hands spread upward to the stars,

and I wondered if there was any One above the stars, and nearer than the stars, who could see. And then the

Many strange Christmas Days have I seen, but that wild Black Rock Christmas stands out strangest of all.

While I was revelling in my delicious second morning sleep, just awake enough to enjoy it, Mr. Craig came

abruptly, announcing breakfast and adding, 'Hope you are in good shape, for we have our work before us this

'Hello!' I replied, still half asleep, and anxious to hide from the minister that I was trying to gain a few more

'The devil,' he answered shortly, and with such emphasis that I sat bolt upright, looking anxiously about.

'Oh! no need for alarm. He's not after you particularlyat least not today,' said Craig, with a shadow of a

By this time I was quite awake. 'Well, what particular style does His Majesty affect this morning?'

The items announced were sufficiently attractive. The 'Frisco Opera Company were to produce the

'screaming farce,' 'The Gay and Giddy Dude'; after which there was to be a 'Grand Ball,' during which the

'Kalifornia Female Kickers' were to do some fancy figures; the whole to be followed by a 'big supper' with

'two free drinks to every man and one to the lady,' and all for the insignificant sum of two dollars.

'What can you do against free drinks and a dance, not to speak of the "High Kickers"?' he groaned.

'No!' he continued; 'it's a clean beat for us today. The miners and lumbermen will have in their pockets ten

thousand dollars, and every dollar burning a hole; and Slavin and his gang will get most of it. But,' he added,

'you must have breakfast. You'll find a tub in the kitchen; don't be afraid to splash. It is the best I have to offer

The tub sounded inviting, and before many minutes had passed I was in a delightful glow, the effect of cold

water and a rough towel, and that consciousness of virtue that comes to a man who has had courage to face

The breakfast was laid with fine taste. A diminutive pinetree, in a pot hung round with wintergreen, stood in

'Well, now, this looks good; porridge, beefsteak, potatoes, toast, and marmalade.'

There was not much talk over our meal. Mr. Craig was evidently preoccupied, and as blue as his politeness

would allow him. Slavin's victory weighed upon his spirits. Finally he burst out, 'Look here! I can't, I won't

stand it; something must be done. Last Christmas this town was for two weeks, as one of the miners said, "a

little suburb of hell." It was something too awful. And at the end of it all one young fellow was found dead in

his shack, and twenty or more crawled back to the camps, leaving their three months' pay with Slavin and his

This rather took me aback, for I had troubled myself with nothing of this sort in my life before, being fully

occupied in keeping myself out of difficulty, and allowing others the same privilege. So I ventured the

consolation that he had done his part, and that a spree more or less would not make much difference to these

men. But the next moment I wished I had been slower in speech, for he swiftly faced me, and his words came

'God forgive you that heartless word! Do you know? But no; you don't know what you are saying. You

don't know that these men have been clambering for dear life out of a fearful pit for three months past, and

doing good climbing too, poor chaps. You don't think that some of them have wives, most of them mothers

and sisters, in the east or across the sea, for whose sake they are slaving here; the miners hoping to save

enough to bring their families to this homeless place, the rest to make enough to go back with credit. Why,

there's Nixon, miner, splendid chap; has been here for two years, and drawing the highest pay. Twice he has

been in sight of his heaven, for he can't speak of his wife and babies without breaking up, and twice that slick

son of the devilthat's Scripture, mind youSlavin, got him, and "rolled" him, as the boys say. He went

back to the mines broken in body and in heart. He says this is his third and last chance. If Slavin gets him, his

wife and babies will never see him on earth or in heaven. There is Sandy, too, and the rest. And,' he added, in

a lower tone, and with the curious little thrill of pathos in his voice, 'this is the day the Saviour came to the

world.' He paused, and then with a little sad smile, 'But I don't want to abuse you.'

'Do, I enjoy it, I'm a beast, a selfish beast'; for somehow his intense, blazing earnestness made me feel

I pressed my services upon him, somewhat feebly, I own, for I can't bear dishwater; but he rejected my offer.

'Quite right, though your china would prove an excellent means of defence at long range.' It was delf, a

quarter of an inch thick. So I smoked while he washed up, swept, dusted, and arranged the room.

After the room was ordered to his taste, we proceeded to hold council. He could offer dinner, magic lantern,

music. 'We can fill in time for two hours, but,' he added gloomily, 'we can't beat the dance and the "High

Then he added hesitatingly, 'There was an old PunchandJudy chap here last year, but he died. Whisky

'The Black Rock Hotel man took it for board and whisky bill. He has it still, I suppose.'

I did not much relish the business; but I hated to see him beaten, so I ventured, 'I have run a Punch and Judy

'You have! you mean to say it? We've got them! We've beaten them!' He had an extraordinary way of taking

your help for granted. 'The miner chaps, mostly English and Welsh, went mad over the poor old showman,

He walked up and down in high excitement and in such evident delight that I felt pledged to my best effort.

He brought me large sheets of brown paper, and after two hours' hard work I had half a dozen pictorial

showbills done in gorgeous colours and striking designs. They were good, if I do say it myself.

The turkey, the magic lantern, the Punch and Judy show were all there, the last with a crowd before it in

gaping delight. A few explanatory words were thrown in, emphasising the highly artistic nature of the Punch

Craig was delighted, and proceeded to perfect his plans. He had some half a dozen young men, four young

ladies, and eight or ten matrons, upon whom he could depend for help. These he organised into a vigilance

committee charged with the duty of preventing miners and lumbermen from getting away to Slavin's. 'The

critical moments will be immediately before and after dinner, and then again after the show is over,' he

explained. 'The first two crises must be left to the care of Punch and Judy, and as for the last, I am not yet

sure what shall be done'; but I saw he had something in his head, for he added, 'I shall see Mrs. Mavor.'

'Who is Mrs. Mavor?' I asked. But he made no reply. He was a born fighter, and he put the fighting spirit into

The sports were to begin at two o'clock. By lunchtime everything was in readiness. After lunch I was having

'The battle will be lost before it is fought. If we lose Quatre Bras, we shall never get to Waterloo.'

'Slavin, just now. The miners are coming in, and he will have them in tow in half an hour.'

'All right; I suppose I must, but it is an awful bore that a man can't have a quiet smoke.'

'You're not half a bad fellow,' he replied, smiling. 'I shall get the ladies to furnish coffee inside the booth. You

He sent a boy with a bell round the village announcing, 'Punch, and Judy in front of the Christmas booth

beside the church'; and for threequarters of an hour I shrieked and sweated in that awful little pen. But it was

almost worth it to hear the shouts of approval and laughter that greeted my performance. It was cold work

standing about, so that the crowd was quite ready to respond when Punch, after being duly hanged, came

forward and invited all into the booth for the hot coffee which Judy had ordered.

No sooner were the miners safely engaged with their coffee than I heard a great noise of bells and of men

shouting; and on reaching the street I saw that the men from the lumber camp were coming in. Two immense

sleighs, decorated with ribbons and spruce boughs, each drawn by a fourhorse team gaily adorned, filled

with some fifty men, singing and shouting with all their might, were coming down the hill road at full gallop.

Round the corner they swung, dashed at full speed across the bridge and down the street, and pulled up after

they had made the circuit of a block, to the great admiration of the onlookers. Among others Slavin sauntered

up goodnaturedly, making himself agreeable to Sandy and those who were helping to unhitch his team.

'Oh, you need not take trouble with me or my team, Mike Slavin. Batchees and me and the boys can look

'Dat's too bad, heh?' said Baptiste wickedly; 'and, Sandy, he's got good money on his pocket for sure, too.'

The boys laughed, and Slavin, joining in, turned away with Keele and Blaney; but by the look in his eye I

Mr. Craig just then came up, 'Hello, boys! too late for Punch and Judy, but just in time for hot coffee and

'Ah, dat so? Dat's bad news for the shantymen, heh, Sandy?' said the little Frenchman dolefully.

'There was a clothesbasket full of doughnuts and a boiler of coffee left as I passed just now,' said Craig

'Allons, mes garcons; vite! never say keel!' cried Baptiste excitedly, stripping off the harness.

But Sandy would not leave the horses till they were carefully rubbed down, blanketed, and fed, for he was

entered for the four horse race and it behoved him to do his best to win. Besides, he scorned to hurry

himself for anything so unimportant as eating; that he considered hardly worthy even of Baptiste. Mr. Craig

managed to get a word with him before he went off, and I saw Sandy solemnly and emphatically shake his

head, saying, 'Ah! we'll beat him this day,' and I gathered that he was added to the vigilance committee.

Old man Nelson was busy with his own team. He turned slowly at Mr. Craig's greeting, 'How is it, Nelson?'

and it was with a very grave voice he answered, 'I hardly know, sir; but I am not gone yet, though it seems

'All you want for a grip is what your hand can cover. What would you have? And besides, do you know why

'No, no! For heaven's sake, no! Why, do you think I have lost it?' said Nelson, almost piteously.

'Well, He's keener about it than you; and I'll bet you haven't thought it worth while to thank Him.'

'You're right. Thank God, you're right.' And then he turned quickly away, and went into the stable behind his

team. It was a minute before he came out. Over his face there was a trembling joy.

'Indeed you just can,' said the minister, taking his hand and shaking it very warmly; and then he told him

'Sandy is all right till after his race. After that is his time of danger,' said the minister.

'I'll stay with him, sir,' said old Nelson, in the tone of a man taking a covenant, and immediately set off for the

'Here comes another recruit for your corps,' I said, pointing to Leslie Graeme, who was coming down the

'You make me think so, though I am bound to say I hardly recognise myself to day. But here goes,' and before

I knew it I was describing our plans to Graeme, growing more and more enthusiastic as he sat in his sleigh,

'Well,' I laughed, 'perhaps so. But I want to lick that man Slavin. I've just seen him, and he's just what Craig

calls him, "a slick son of the devil." Don't be shocked; he says it is Scripture.'

'What is assigned me, Mr. Craig? for I know that this man is simply your agent.'

'Well,' said Mr. Craig hesitatingly, 'of course I would do nothing till I had consulted you; but I want a man to

'That's all right,' said Graeme, with an air of relief; 'I expected something hard.'

'And then I thought you would not mind presiding at dinnerI want it to go off well.'

'That's nothing to the way he touched me. Wait and learn,' I answered, while Craig looked quite distressed.

'He'll do it, Mr. Craig, never fear,' I said, 'and any other little duty that may occur to you.'

'Now that's too bad of you. That is all I want, honour bright,' he replied; adding, as he turned away, 'you are

We put up the horses and set off for coffee. As we approached the booth Graeme caught sight of the Punch

And then he leaned up against a tree and laughed till the tears came. 'I say, old boy, don't mind me,' he

'Yes, you villain; and I remember your part in it. I wonder how you can, even at this remote date, laugh at it.'

For I had a vivid recollection of how, after a 'chaste and highly artistic performance of this mediaeval play'

had been given before a distinguished Toronto audience, the trap door by which I had entered my box was

fastened, and I was left to swelter in my cage, and forced to listen to the suffocated laughter from the wings

and the stage whispers of 'Hello, Mr. Punch, where's the baby?' And for many a day after I was subjected to

anxious inquiries as to the locality and health of 'the baby,' and whether it was able to be out.

'Oh, the dear old days!' he kept saying, over and over, in a tone so full of sadness that my heart grew sore for

The sports passed off in typical Western style. In addition to the usual running and leaping contests, there was

rifle and pistol shooting, in both of which old man Nelson stood first, with Shaw, foreman of the mines,

The great event of the day, however, was to be the fourhorse race, for which three teams were enteredone

from the mines driven by Nixon, Craig's friend, a citizens' team, and Sandy's. The race was really between

the miners' team, and that from the woods, for the citizens' team, though made up of speedy horses, had not

been driven much together, and knew neither their driver nor each other. In the miners' team were four bays,

very powerful, a trifle heavy perhaps, but well matched, perfectly trained, and perfectly handled by their

driver. Sandy had his long rangy roans, and for leaders a pair of halfbroken pinto bronchos. The pintos,

caught the summer before upon the Alberta prairies, were fleet as deer, but wicked and uncertain. They were

Baptiste's special care and pride. If they would only run straight there was little doubt that they would carry

the roans and themselves to glory; but one could not tell the moment they might bolt or kick things to pieces.

Being the only nonpartisan in the crowd I was asked to referee. The race was about half a mile and return,

the first and last quarters being upon the ice. The course, after leaving the ice, led up from the river by a long

easy slope to the level above; and at the further end curved somewhat sharply round the Old Fort. The only

condition attaching to the race was that the teams should start from the scratch, make the turn of the Fort, and

finish at the scratch. There were no vexing regulations as to fouls. The man making the foul would find it

necessary to reckon with the crowd, which was considered sufficient guarantee for a fair and square race.

Owing to the hazards of the course, the result would depend upon the skill of the drivers quite as much as

upon the speed of the teams. The points of hazard were at the turn round the Old Fort, and at a little ravine

which led down to the river, over which the road passed by means of a long log bridge or causeway.

From a point upon the high bank of the river the whole course lay in open view. It was a scene full of life and

vividly picturesque. There were miners in dark clothes and peak caps; citizens in ordinary garb; ranchmen in

wide cowboy hats and buckskin shirts and leggings, some with cartridgebelts and pistols; a few halfbreeds

and Indians in halfnative, halfcivilised dress; and scattering through the crowd the lumbermen with gay

scarlet and blue blanket coats, and some with knitted tuques of the same colours. A very goodnatured but

extremely uncertain crowd it was. At the head of each horse stood a man, but at the pintos' heads Baptiste

stood alone, trying to hold down the off leader, thrown into a frenzy of fear by the yelling of the crowd.

Gradually all became quiet, till, in the midst of absolute stillness, came the words, 'Are you ready?', then the

pistolshot and the great race had begun. Above the roar of the crowd came the shrill cry of Baptiste, as he

struck his broncho with the palm of his hand, and swung himself into the sleigh beside Sandy, as it shot past.

Like a flash the bronchos sprang to the front, two lengths before the other teams; but, terrified by the yelling

of the crowd, instead of bending to the left bank up which the road wound, they wheeled to the right and were

Baptiste's cries, a curious mixture of French and English, continued to strike through all other sounds till they

gained the top of the slope to find the others almost a hundred yards in front, the citizens' team leading, with

the miners' following close. The moment the pintos caught sight of the teams before them they set off at a

terrific pace and steadily devoured the intervening space. Nearer and nearer the turn came, the eight horses in

front, running straight and well within their speed. After them flew the pintos, running savagely with ears set

back, leading well the big roans, thundering along and gaining at every bound. And now the citizens' team

had almost reached the Fort, running hard, and drawing away from the bays. But Nixon knew what he was

about, and was simply steadying his team for the turn. The event proved his wisdom, for in the turn the

leading team left the track, lost a moment or two in the deep snow, and before they could regain the road the

bays had swept superbly past, leaving their rivals to follow in the rear. On came the pintos, swiftly nearing

the Fort. Surely at that pace they cannot make the turn. But Sandy knows his leaders. They have their eyes

upon the teams in front, and need no touch of rein. Without the slightest change in speed the nimblefooted

bronchos round the turn, hauling the big roans after them, and fall in behind the citizens' team, which is

And now the struggle is for the bridge over the ravine. The bays in front, running with mouths wide open, are

evidently doing their best; behind them, and every moment nearing them, but at the limit of their speed too,

come the lighter and fleeter citizens' team; while opposite their driver are the pintos, pulling hard, eager and

fresh. Their temper is too uncertain to send them to the front; they run well following, but when leading

cannot be trusted, and besides, a broncho hates a bridge; so Sandy holds them where they are, waiting and

hoping for his chance after the bridge is crossed. Foot by foot the citizens' team creep up upon the flank of the

bays, with the pintos in turn hugging them closely, till it seems as if the three, if none slackens, must strike

the bridge together; and this will mean destruction to one at least. This danger Sandy perceives, but he dare

not check his leaders. Suddenly, within a few yards of the bridge, Baptiste throws himself upon the lines,

wrenches them out of Sandy's hands, and, with a quick swing, faces the pintos down the steep side of the

ravine, which is almost sheer ice with a thin coat of snow. It is a daring course to take, for the ravine, though

not deep, is full of undergrowth, and is partially closed up by a brush heap at the further end. But, with a yell,

Baptiste hurls his four horses down the slope, and into the undergrowth. 'Allons, mes enfants! Courage! vite,

vite!' cries their driver, and nobly do the pintos respond. Regardless of bushes and brush heaps, they tear their

way through; but, as they emerge, the hind bobsleigh catches a root, and, with a crash, the sleigh is hurled

high in the air. Baptiste's cries ring out high and shrill as ever, encouraging his team, and never cease till,

with a plunge and a scramble, they clear the brush heap lying at the mouth of the ravine, and are out on the

ice on the river, with Baptiste standing on the front bob, the box trailing behind, and Sandy nowhere to be

Three hundred yards of the course remain. The bays, perfectly handled, have gained at the bridge and in the

descent to the ice, and are leading the citizens' team by half a dozen sleigh lengths. Behind both comes

Baptiste. It is now or never for the pintos. The rattle of the trailing box, together with the wild yelling of the

crowd rushing down the bank, excites the bronchos to madness, and, taking the bits in their teeth, they do

their first free running that day. Past the citizens' team like a whirlwind they dash, clear the intervening space,

and gain the flanks of the bays. Can the bays hold them? Over them leans their driver, plying for the first time

the hissing lash. Only fifty yards more. The miners begin to yell. But Baptiste, waving his lines high in one

hand seizes his tuque with the other, whirls it about his head and flings it with a fiercer yell than ever at the

bronchos. Like the bursting of a hurricane the pintos leap forward, and with a splendid rush cross the scratch,

There was a wild quarter of an hour. The shantymen had torn off their coats and were waving them wildly

and tossing them high, while the ranchers added to the uproar by emptying their revolvers into the air in a

When the crowd was somewhat quieted Sandy's stiff figure appeared, slowly making towards them. A dozen

lumbermen ran to him, eagerly inquiring if he were hurt. But Sandy could only curse the little Frenchman for

'Lost! Why, man, we've won it!' shouted a voice, at which Sandy's rage vanished, and he allowed himself to

'Let me go,' shouted Sandy, setting off at a run in the track of the sleigh. He had not gone far before he met

Baptiste coming back with his team foaming, the roans going quietly, but the bronchos dancing, and eager to

'Voila! bully boy! tank the bon Dieu, Sandy; you not keel, heh? Ah! you are one grand chevalier,' exclaimed

Baptiste, hauling Sandy in and thrusting the lines into his hands. And so they came back, the sleigh box still

dragging behind, the pintos executing fantastic figures on their hind legs, and Sandy holding them down. The

The roar that answered set the bronchos off again plunging and kicking, and only when Baptiste got them by

the heads could they be induced to stand long enough to allow Sandy to be proclaimed winner of the race.

Several of the lumbermen sprang into the sleigh box with Sandy and Baptiste, among them Keefe, followed

by Nelson, and the first part of the great day was over. Slavin could not understand the new order of things.

That a great event like the fourhorse race should not be followed by 'drinks all round' was to him at once

disgusting and incomprehensible; and, realising his defeat for the moment, he fell into the crowd and

disappeared. But he left behind him his 'runners.' He had not yet thrown up the game.

Mr. Craig meantime came to me, and, looking anxiously after Sandy in his sleigh, with his frantic crowd of

yelling admirers, said in a gloomy voice, 'Poor Sandy! He is easily caught, and Keefe has the devil's cunning.'

'There'll be twenty bottles waiting him in the stable,' he replied bitterly, 'and I can't go following him up.'

'He won't stand that, no man would. God help us all.' I could hardly recognise myself, for I found in my heart

an earnest echo to that prayer as I watched him go toward the crowd again, his face set in strong

determination. He looked like the captain of a forlorn hope, and I was proud to be following him.

The sports were over, and there remained still an hour to be filled in before dinner. It was an hour full of

danger to Craig's hopes of victory, for the men were wild with excitement, and ready for the most reckless

means of 'slinging their dust.' I could not but admire the skill with which Mr. Craig caught their attention.

'Gentlemen,' he called out, 'we've forgotten the judge of the great race. Three cheers for Mr. Connor!'

Two of the shantymen picked me up and hoisted me on their shoulders while the cheers were given.

'Announce the Punch and Judy,' he entreated me, in a low voice. I did so in a little speech, and was forthwith

borne aloft, through the street to the booth, followed by the whole crowd, cheering like mad.

The excitement of the crowd caught me, and for an hour I squeaked and worked the wires of the immortal

and unhappy family in a manner hitherto unapproached by me at least. I was glad enough when Graeme came

to tell me to send the men in to dinner. This Mr. Punch did in the most gracious manner, and again with

We had only well begun when Baptiste came in quietly but hurriedly and whispered to me

'M'sieu Craig, he's gone to Slavin's, and would lak you and M'sieu Graeme would follow queek. Sandy he's

I sent him for Graeme, who was presiding at dinner, and set off for Slavin's at a run. There I found Mr. Craig

and Nelson holding Sandy, more than half drunk, back from Slavin, who, stripped to the shirt, was coolly

'Let me go, Mr. Craig,' Sandy was saying, 'I am a good Presbyterian. He is a Papist thief; and he has my

'Let him go, preacher,' sneered Slavin, 'I'll cool him off for yez. But ye'd better hold him if yez wants his mug

'Mr. Connor,' said Sandy solemnly, 'it is a gentleman you are, though your name is against you, and I am a

good Presbyterian, and I can give you the Commandments and Reasons annexed to them; but yon's a thief, a

'He is a blank liar, and he's afraid to take it up,' said Slavin, in a low, cool tone.

With a roar Sandy broke away and rushed at him; but, without moving from his tracks, Slavin met him with a

'Hooray,' yelled Blaney, 'Ireland for ever!' and, seizing the iron poker, swung it around his head, crying,

'Back, or, by the holy Moses, I'll kill the first man that interferes wid the game.'

This roused the Highlander, and saying, 'I'll settle you afterwards, Mister Keefe,' he rushed in again at Slavin.

Again Slavin met him again with his left, staggered him, and, before he fell, took a step forward and

delivered a terrific righthand blow on his jaw. Poor Sandy went down in a heap amid the yells of Blaney,

Keefe, and some others of the gang. I was in despair when in came Baptiste and Graeme.

One look at Sandy, and Baptiste tore off his coat and cap, slammed them on the floor, danced on them, and

with a longdrawn 'saprrrrie,' rushed at Slavin. But Graeme caught him by the back of the neck, saying,

'Hold on, little man,' and turning to Slavin, pointed to Sandy, who was reviving under Nelson's care, and said,

Nelson explained that Sandy, after drinking some at the stable and a glass at the Black Rock Hotel, had come

down here with Keefe and the others, had lost his money, and was accusing Slavin of robbing him.

'I shall make it my business. It is not the first time my men have lost money in this saloon.'

'Slavin,' said Graeme quietly, 'it's a pity you said that, because, unless you apologise in one minute, I shall

Graeme grew white, and said even more slowly, 'Now you'll have to take it; no apology will do.'

He slowly stripped off coat and vest. Mr. Craig interposed, begging Graeme to let the matter pass. 'Surely he

'Mr. Craig,' said Graeme, with an easy smile, 'you don't understand. No man can call me that name and walk

Then, turning to Slavin, he said, 'Now, if you want a minute's rest, I can wait.'

'Blaney,' said Graeme sharply, 'you get back.' Blaney promptly stepped back to Keefe's side. 'Nelson, you and

Baptiste can see that they stay there.' The old man nodded and looked at Craig, who simply said, 'Do the best

It was a good fight. Slavin had plenty of pluck, and for a time forced the fighting, Graeme guarding easily

and tapping him aggravatingly about the nose and eyes, drawing blood, but not disabling him. Gradually

there came a look of fear into Slavin's eyes, and the beads stood upon his face. He had met his master.

'Now, Slavin, you're beginning to be sorry; and now I am going to show you what you are made of.' Graeme

made one or two lightning passes, struck Slavin one, two, three terrific blows, and laid him quite flat and

senseless. Keefe and Blaney both sprang forward, but there was a savage kind of growl.

'Hold, there!' It was old man Nelson looking along a pistol barrel. 'You know me, Keefe,' he said. 'You won't

Keefe turned green and yellow, and staggered back, while Slavin slowly rose to his feet.

'Will you take some more?' said Graeme. 'You haven't got much; but mind I have stopped playing with you.

Slavin hesitated, then rushed, but Graeme stepped to meet him, and we saw Slavin's heels in the air as he fell

'Bon!' yelled Baptiste. 'Bully boy! Dat's de bon stuff. Dat's larn him one good lesson.' But immediately he

He was too late, for there was a crash of breaking glass, and Graeme fell to the floor with a long deep cut on

the side of his head. Keefe had hurled a bottle with all too sure an aim, and had fled. I thought he was dead;

but we carried him out, and in a few minutes he groaned, opened his eyes, and sank again into insensibility.

She met us at the door. I had in mind to say some words of apology, but when I looked upon her face I forgot

'Come in! Bring him in! Please do not wait,' she said, and her voice was sweet and soft and firm.

We laid him in a large room at the back of the shop over which Mrs. Mavor lived. Together we dressed the

wound, her firm white fingers, skilful as if with long training. Before the dressing was finished I sent Craig

off, for the time had come for the Magic Lantern in the church, and I knew how critical the moment was in

In a few moments more Graeme revived, and, gazing about, asked, 'What's, all this about?' and then,

recollecting, 'Ah! that brute Keefe'; then seeing my anxious face he said carelessly, 'Awful bore, ain't it?

'You be hanged!' I said shortly; for his old sweet smile was playing about his lips, and was almost too much

'Mrs. Mavor?' he said, in surprise. She came forward, with a slight flush on her face.

'I have often seen you, and wished to know you. I am sorry to bring you this trouble.'

'You must not say so,' she replied, 'but let me do all for you that I can. And now the doctor says you are to lie

'The doctor? Oh! you mean Connor. He is hardly there yet. You don't know each other. Permit me to present

As she bowed slightly, her eyes looked into mine with serious gaze, not inquiring, yet searching my soul. As

I looked into her eyes I forgot everything about me, and when I recalled myself it seemed as if I had been

away in some far place. It was not their colour or their brightness; I do not yet know their colour, and I have

often looked into them; and they were not bright; but they were clear, and one could look far down into them,

and in their depths see a glowing, steady light. As I went to get some drugs from the Black Rock doctor, I

found myself wondering about that fardown light; and about her voice, how it could get that sound from far

I found the doctor quite drunk, as indeed Mr. Craig had warned; but his drugs were good, and I got what I

While Graeme slept Mrs. Mavor made me tea. As the evening wore on I told her the events of the day,

'He got me too,' she said. 'Nixon was sent to me just before the sports; and I don't think he will break down

After a long pause, she went on, 'I have promised Mr. Craig to sing tonight, if I am needed!' and then, after a

moment's hesitation, 'It is two years since I have been able to singtwo years,' she repeated, 'since'and

'And,' she went on quietly, 'I fear I have been selfish. It is hard to sing the same songs. We were very happy.

But the miners like to hear me sing, and I think perhaps it helps them to feel less lonely, and keeps them from

evil. I shall try tonight, if I am needed. Mr. Craig will not ask me unless he must.'

I would have seen every miner and lumberman in the place hideously drunk before I would have asked her to

sing one song while her heart ached. I wondered at Craig, and said, rather angrily

She looked at me with wonder in her eyes, and said gently, 'And are they not Christ's too?'

It was nearing ten o'clock, and I was wondering how the fight was going, and hoping that Mrs. Mavor would

not be needed, when the door opened, and old man Nelson and Sandy, the latter much battered and ashamed,

'I will come,' she said simply. She saw me preparing to accompany her, and asked, 'Do you think you can

'Then I am glad; for I must take my little one with me. I did not put her to bed in case I should need to go, and

We entered the church by the back door, and saw at once that even yet the battle might easily be lost.

Some miners had just come from Slavin's, evidently bent on breaking up the meeting, in revenge for the

collapse of the dance, which Slavin was unable to enjoy, much less direct. Craig was gallantly holding his

ground, finding it hard work to keep his men in good humour, and so prevent a fight, for there were cries of

The look of relief that came over his face when Craig caught sight of us told how anxious he had been, and

reconciled me to Mrs. Mavor's singing. 'Thank the good God,' he said, with what came near being a sob, 'I

There was a dead silence. Some one began to applaud, but a miner said savagely, 'Stop that, you fool!'

There was a few moments' delay, when from the crowd a voice called out, 'Does Mrs. Mavor wish to sing?'

followed by cries of 'Ay, that's it.' Then Shaw, the foreman at the mines, stood up in the audience and said

'Mr. Craig and gentlemen, you know that three years ago I was known as "Old Ricketts," and that I owe all I

am tonight, under God, to Mrs. Mavor, and'with a little quiver in his voice'her baby. And we all know

that for two years she has not sung; and we all know why. And what I say is, that if she does not feel like

singing tonight, she is not going to sing to keep any drunken brute of Slavin's crowd quiet.'

There were deep growls of approval all over the church. I could have hugged Shaw then and there. Mr. Craig

'Mrs. Mavor, wishes me to thank her dear friend Mr. Shaw, but says she would like to sing.'

The response was perfect stillness. Mr. Craig sat down to the organ and played the opening bars of the

touching melody, 'Oft in the Stilly Night.' Mrs. Mavor came to the front, and, with a smile of exquisite

sweetness upon her sad face, and looking straight at us with her glorious eyes, began to sing.

Her voice, a rich soprano, even and true, rose and fell, now soft, now strong, but always filling the building,

pouring around us floods of music. I had heard Patti's 'Home, sweet Home,' and of all singing that alone

At the end of the first verse the few women in the church and some men were weeping quietly; but when she

sobs came on every side from these tenderhearted fellows, and Shaw quite lost his grip. But she sang

steadily on, the tone clearer and sweeter and fuller at every note, and when the sound of her voice died away,

she stood looking at the men as if in wonder that they should weep. No one moved. Mr. Craig played softly

As she sang the appealing words, her face was lifted up, and she saw none of us; but she must have seen

some one, for the cry in her voice could only come from one who could see and feel help close at hand. On

and on went the glorious voice, searching my soul's depths; but when she came to the words

she stretched up her armsshe had quite forgotten us, her voice had borne her to other worldsand sang

with such a passion of 'abandon' that my soul was ready to surrender anything, everything.

Again Mr. Craig wandered on through his changing chords till again he came to familiar ground, and the

Every word, with all its weight of meaning, came winging to our souls, till we found ourselves gazing afar

into those stately halls of Zion, with their daylight serene and their jubilant throngs. When the singer came to

the last verse there was a pause. Again Mr. Craig softly played the interlude, but still there was no voice. I

looked up. She was very white, and her eyes were glowing with their deep light. Mr. Craig looked quickly

about, saw her, stopped, and half rose, as if to go to her, when, in a voice that seemed to come from a faroff

The longing, the yearning, in the second 'O' were indescribable. Again and again, as she held that word, and

then dropped down with the cadence in the music, my heart ached for I knew not what.

The audience were sitting as in a trance. The grimy faces of the miners, for they never get quite white, were

furrowed with the tearcourses. Shaw, by this time, had his face too lifted high, his eyes gazing far above the

singer's head, and I knew by the rapture in his face that he was seeing, as she saw, the thronging stately halls

and the whiterobed conquerors. He had felt, and was still feeling, all the stress of the fight, and to him the

vision of the conquerors in their glory was souldrawing and soul stirring. And Nixon, toohe had his

vision; but what he saw was the face of the singer, with the shining eyes, and, by the look of him, that was

Immediately after her last note Mrs. Mavor stretched out her hands to her little girl, who was sitting on my

knee, caught her up, and, holding her close to her breast, walked quickly behind the curtain. Not a sound

followed the singing: no one moved till she had disappeared; and then Mr. Craig came to the front, and,

'Gentlemen, it was not easy for Mrs. Mavor to sing for us, and you know she sang because she is a miner's

wife, and her heart is with the miners. But she sang, too, because her heart is His who came to earth this day

so many years ago to save us all; and she would make you love Him too. For in loving Him you are saved

'And before we say goodnight, men, I want to know if the time is not come when all of you who mean to be

better than you are should join in putting from us this thing that has brought sorrow and shame to us and to

those we love? You know what I mean. Some of you are strong; will you stand by and see weaker men

robbed of the money they save for those far away, and robbed of the manhood that no money can buy or

'Will the strong men help? Shall we all join hands in this? What do you say? In this town we have often seen

hell, and just a moment ago we were all looking into heaven, "the sweet and blessed country." O men!' and

his voice rang in an agony through the building'O men! which shall be ours? For Heaven's dear sake, let us

I was looking out through a slit in the curtain. The men, already wrought to intense feeling by the music, were

listening with set faces and gleaming eyes, and as at the appeal 'Who will?' Craig raised high his hand, Shaw,

I have witnessed some thrilling scenes in my life, but never anything to equal that: the one man on the

platform standing at full height, with his hand thrown up to heaven, and the hundred men below standing

For a moment Craig held them so; and again his voice rang out, louder, sterner than before

'All who mean it, say, "By God's help I will."' And back from a hundred throats came deep and strong the

At this point Mrs. Mavor, whom I had quite forgotten, put her hand on my arm. 'Go and tell him,' she panted,

'I want them to come on Thursday night, as they used to in the other daysgoquick,' and she almost

'Mrs. Mavor wishes me to say that she will be glad to see you all, as in the old days, on Thursday evening;

and I can think of no better place to give formal expression to our pledge of this night'

There was a shout of acceptance; and then, at some one's call, the long pentup feelings of the crowd found

He sat down at the organ, played a few bars of 'The Sweet By and By,' and then Mrs. Mavor began. But not a

soul joined till the refrain was reached, and then they sang as only men with their hearts on fire can sing. But

after the last refrain Mr. Craig made a sign to Mrs. Mavor, and she sang alone, slowly and softly, and with

There was no benedictionthere seemed no need; and the men went quietly out. But over and over again the

voice kept singing in my ears and in my heart, 'We shall meet on that beautiful shore.' And after the

sleighloads of men had gone and left the street empty, as I stood with Craig in the radiant moonlight that

made the great mountains about come near us, from Sandy's sleigh we heard in the distance Baptiste's

FrenchEnglish song; but the song that floated down with the sound of the bells from the miners' sleigh

'We have won our fight; I was beaten,' he replied quickly, offering me his hand. Then, taking off his cap, and

looking up beyond the mountaintops and the silent stars, he added softly, 'Our fight, but His victory.'

The days that followed the Black Rock Christmas were anxious days and weary, but not for the brightest of

my life would I change them now; for, as after the burning heat or rocking storm the dying day lies beautiful

in the tender glow of the evening, so these days have lost their weariness and lie bathed in a misty glory. The

years that bring us many ills, and that pass so stormfully over us, bear away with them the ugliness, the

weariness, the pain that are theirs, but the beauty, the sweetness, the rest they leave untouched, for these are

eternal. As the mountains, that near at hand stand jagged and scarred, in the far distance repose in their soft

robes of purple haze, so the rough present fades into the past, soft and sweet and beautiful.

I have set myself to recall the pain and anxiety of those days and nights when we waited in fear for the turn of

the fever, but I can only think of the patience and gentleness and courage of her who stood beside me, bearing

more than half my burden. And while I can see the face of Leslie Graeme, ghastly or flushed, and hear his

low moaning or the broken words of his delirium, I think chiefly of the bright face bending over him, and of

the cool, firm, swiftmoving hands that soothed and smoothed and rested, and the voice, like the soft song of

Mrs. Mavor and I were much together during those days. I made my home in Mr. Craig's shack, but most of

my time was spent beside my friend. We did not see much of Craig, for he was heartdeep with the miners,

laying plans for the making of the League the following Thursday; and though he shared our anxiety and was

ever ready to relieve us, his thought and his talk had mostly to do with the League.

Mrs. Mavor's evenings were given to the miners, but her afternoons mostly to Graeme and to me, and then it

was I saw another side of her character. We would sit in her little diningroom, where the pictures on the

walls, the quaint old silver, and bits of curiously cut glass, all spoke of other and different days, and thence

we would roam the world of literature and art. Keenly sensitive to all the good and beautiful in these, she had

her favourites among the masters, for whom she was ready to do battle; and when her argument, instinct with

fancy and vivid imagination, failed, she swept away all opposing opinion with the swift rush of her

enthusiasm; so that, though I felt she was beaten, I was left without words to reply. Shakespeare and

Tennyson and Burns she loved, but not Shelley, nor Byron, nor even Wordsworth. Browning she knew not,

and therefore could not rank him with her noblest three; but when I read to her 'A Death in the Desert,' and,

'For all was as I say, and now the man Lies as he once lay, breast to breast with God,'

the light shone in her eyes, and she said, 'Oh, that is good and great; I shall get much out of him; I had always

feared he was impossible.' And 'Paracelsus,' too, stirred her; but when I recited the thrilling fragment,

'Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!'

the red colour faded from her cheek, her breath came in a sob, and she rose quickly and passed out without a

word. Ever after, Browning was among her gods. But when we talked of music, she, adoring Wagner, soared

upon the wings of the mighty Tannhauser, far above, into regions unknown, leaving me to walk soberly with

Beethoven and Mendelssohn. Yet with all our free, frank talk, there was all the while that in her gentle

courtesy which kept me from venturing into any chamber of her life whose door she did not set freely open to

me. So I vexed myself about her, and when Mr. Craig returned the next week from the Landing where he had

'Who is Mrs. Mavor? And how in the name of all that is wonderful and unlikely does she come to be here?

He would not answer then; whether it was that his mind was full of the coming struggle, or whether he shrank

from the tale, I know not; but that night, when we sat together beside his fire, he told me the story, while I

smoked. He was worn with his long, hard drive, and with the burden of his work, but as he went on with his

tale, looking into the fire as he told it, he forgot all his present weariness and lived again the scenes he painted

'I remember well my first sight of her, as she sprang from the front seat of the stage to the ground, hardly

touching her husband's hand. She looked a mere girl. Let's seefive years agoshe couldn't have been a

day over twenty three. She looked barely twenty. Her swift glance swept over the group of miners at the hotel

'I was proud of our mountains that evening. Turning to her husband, she exclaimed: "O Lewis, are they not

grand? and lovely, too?" Every miner lost his heart then and there, but all waited for Abe the driver to give

his verdict before venturing an opinion. Abe said nothing until he had taken a preliminary drink, and then,

'Like a flash every glass was emptied, and Abe called out, "Fill her up again, boys! My treat!"

'"Boys, you hear me! She's a No. 1, triple X, the pure quill with a bead on it: she's a," and for the first time

'"Angel!" repeated Abe, with infinite contempt. "Angel be blowed," (I paraphrase here); "angels ain't in the

same month with her; I'd like to see any blanked angel swing my team around them curves without a shiver."

'"That's what," said Abe; and then he went off into a fusilade of scientific profanity, expressive of his esteem

for the girl who had swung his team round the curves; and the miners nodded to each other, and winked their

'Oh yes,' he said, recalling himself; 'she is an Edinburgh young ladymet Lewis Mayor, a young

ScotchEnglish man, in London wealthy, good family, and all that, but fast, and going to pieces at home.

His people, who own large shares in these mines here, as a last resort sent him out here to reform. Curiously

innocent ideas those old country people have of the reforming properties of this atmosphere! They send their

young bloods here to reform. Here! in this devil's campground, where a man's lust is his only law, and

when, from sheer monotony, a man must betake himself to the only excitement of the placethat offered by

the saloon. Good people in the east hold up holy hands of horror at these godless miners; but I tell you it's

asking these boys a good deal to keep straight and clean in a place like this. I take my excitement in fighting

the devil and doing my work generally, and that gives me enough; but these poor chapshard worked,

Again he roused himself. 'Reform? Not exactly. In sixmonths he had broken through all restraint; and, mind

you, not the miners' faultnot a miner helped him down. It was a sight to make angels weep when Mrs.

Mavor would come to the saloon door for her husband. Every miner would vanish; they could not look upon

her shame, and they would send Mavor forth in the charge of Billy Breen, a queer little chap, who had

belonged to the Mavors in some way in the old country, and between them they would get him home. How

she stood it puzzles me to this day; but she never made any sign, and her courage never failed. It was always

a bright, brave, proud face she held up to the worldexcept in church; there it was different. I used to preach

my sermons, I believe, mostly for herbut never so that she could suspectas bravely and as cheerily as I

could. And as she listened, and especially as she sanghow she used to sing in those days!there was no

touch of pride in her face, though the courage never died out, but appeal, appeal! I could have cursed aloud

the cause of her misery, or wept for the pity of it. Before her baby was born he seemed to pull himself

together, for he was quite mad about her, and from the day the baby came talk about miracles!from that

day he never drank a drop. She gave the baby over to him, and the baby simply absorbed him.

'He was a new man. He could not drink whisky and kiss his baby. And the minersit was really absurd if it

were not so pathetic. It was the first baby in Black Rock, and they used to crowd Mavor's shop and peep into

the room at the back of itI forgot to tell you that when he lost his position as manager he opened a

hardware shop, for his people chucked him, and he was too proud to write home for moneyjust for a

chance to be asked in to see the baby. I came upon Nixon standing at the back of the shop after he had seen

the baby for the first time, sobbing hard, and to my question he replied: "It's just like my own." You can't

understand this. But to men who have lived so long in the mountains that they have forgotten what a baby

looks like, who have had experience of humanity only in its roughest, foulest form, this little mite, sweet and

clean, was like an angel fresh from heaven, the one link in all that black camp that bound them to what was

'Oh, it was all beautiful beyond words! I shall never forget the shock I got one night when I found "Old

Ricketts" nursing the baby. A drunken old beast he was; but there he was sitting, sober enough, making

extraordinary faces at the baby, who was grabbing at his nose and whiskers and cooing in blissful delight.

Poor "Old Ricketts" looked as if he had been caught stealing, and muttering something about having to go,

gazed wildly round for some place in which to lay the baby, when in came the mother, saying in her own

sweet, frank way: "O Mr. Ricketts" (she didn't find out till afterwards his name was Shaw), "would you mind

keeping her just a little longer?I shall be back in a few minutes." And "Old Ricketts" guessed he could

'But in six months mother and baby, between them, transformed "Old Ricketts" into Mr. Shaw, fireboss of

the mines. And then in the evenings, when she would be singing her baby to sleep, the little shop would be

full of miners, listening in dead silence to the babysongs, and the English songs, and the Scotch songs she

poured forth without stint, for she sang more for them than for her baby. No wonder they adored her. She was

so bright, so gay, she brought light with her when she went into the camp, into the pitsfor she went down

to see the men workor into a sick miner's shack; and many a man, lonely and sick for home or wife, or

baby or mother, found in that back room cheer and comfort and courage, and to many a poor broken wretch

'For a year and a half that was the happiest home in all the world, till one day'

'I don't think I can ever forget the awful horror of that bright fall afternoon, when "Old Ricketts" came

breathless to me and gasped, "Come! for the dear Lord's sake," and I rushed after him. At the mouth of the

shaft lay three men dead. One was Lewis Mavor. He had gone down to superintend the running of a new

drift; the two men, half drunk with Slavin's whisky, set off a shot prematurely, to their own and Mavor's

destruction. They were badly burned, but his face was untouched. A miner was sponging off the bloody froth

oozing from his lips. The others were standing about waiting for me to speak. But I could find no word, for

my heart was sick, thinking, as they were, of the young mother and her baby waiting at home. So I stood,

looking stupidly from one to the other, trying to find some reasoncoward that I waswhy another should

bear the news rather than I. And while we stood there, looking at one another in fear, there broke upon us the

"Will ye no' come back again? Will ye no' come back again? Better lo'ed ye canna be, Will ye no' come back

'A strange terror seized us. Instinctively the men closed up in front of the body, and stood in silence. Nearer

"Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang, Liltin' wildly up the glen, But aye tae me he sings ae sang, Will ye no'

'Before the verse was finished "Old Ricketts" had dropped on his knees, sobbing out brokenly, "O God! O

God! have pity, have pity, have pity!"and every man took off his hat. And still the voice came nearer,

'It became unbearable. "Old Ricketts" sprang suddenly to his feet, and, gripping me by the arm, said

piteously, "Oh, go to her! for Heaven's sake, go to her!" I next remember standing in her path and seeing her

holding out her hands full of red lilies, crying out, "Are they not lovely? Lewis is so fond of them!" With the

promise of much finer ones I turned her down a path toward the river, talking I know not what folly, till her

great eyes grew grave, then anxious, and my tongue stammered and became silent. Then, laying her hand

upon my arm, she said with gentle sweetness, "Tell me your trouble, Mr. Craig," and I knew my agony had

come, and I burst out, "Oh, if it were only mine!" She turned quite white, and with her deep eyesyou've

noticed her eyesdrawing the truth out of mine, she said, "Is it mine, Mr. Craig, and my baby's?" I waited,

thinking with what words to begin. She put one hand to her heart, and with the other caught a little

poplartree that shivered under her grasp, and said with white lips, but even more gently, "Tell me." I

wondered at my voice being so steady as I said, "Mrs. Mavor, God will help you and your baby. There has

'She was a miner's wife, and there was no need for more. I could see the pattern of the sunlight falling

through the trees upon the grass. I could hear the murmur of the river, and the cry of the catbird in the

bushes, but we seemed to be in a strange and unreal world. Suddenly she stretched out her hands to me, and

'I set off by a short cut leading to her home, hoping the men would be there before us; but, passing me, she

walked swiftly through the trees, and I followed in fear. As we came near the main path I heard the sound of

feet, and I tried to stop her, but she, too, had heard and knew. "Oh, let me go!" she said piteously; "you need

not fear." And I had not the heart to stop her. In a little opening among the pines we met the bearers. When

the men saw her, they laid their burden gently down upon the carpet of yellow pine needles, and then, for

they had the hearts of true men in them, they went away into the bushes and left her alone with her dead. She

went swiftly to his side, making no cry, but kneeling beside him she stroked his face and hands, and touched

his curls with her fingers, murmuring all the time soft words of love. "O my darling, my bonnie, bonnie

darling, speak to me! Will ye not speak to me just one little word? O my love, my love, my heart's love!

Listen, my darling!" And she put her lips to his ear, whispering, and then the awful stillness. Suddenly she

lifted her head and scanned his face, and then, glancing round with a wild surprise in her eyes, she cried, "He

will not speak to me! Oh, he will not speak to me!" I signed to the men, and as they came forward I went to

'"Oh," she said with a wail in her voice; "he will not speak to me." The men were sobbing aloud. She looked

at them with wide open eyes of wonder. "Why are they weeping? Will he never speak to me again? Tell

and I said them over to her, holding her hands firmly in mine. She gazed at me as if in a dream, and the light

slowly faded from her eyes as she said, tearing her hands from mine and waving them towards the mountains

'I believe in heaven and the other life, but I confess that for a moment it all seemed shadowy beside the reality

of this warm, bright world, full of life and love. She was very ill for two nights, and when the coffin was

'She slowly came back to life, but there were no more songs. The miners still come about her shop, and talk

to her baby, and bring her their sorrows and troubles; but though she is always gentle, almost tender, with

them, no man ever says "Sing." And that is why I am glad she sang last week; it will be good for her and

'They have moneyshe told me about it, but her heart is in the grave up there under the pines; and besides,

I am afraid I snorted a little impatiently as I said, 'Nonsense! why, with her face, and manner, and voice she

'Nazareth was good enough for the Lord of glory,' he answered, with a smile none too bright; but it drew my

'When God chooses,' he answered gravely; 'and don't you ever think but that it is worth while. One value of

He rose abruptly and began to walk about. 'And don't miss the whole meaning of the Life that lies at the

foundation of your religion. Yes,' he added to himself, 'the work is worth doing worth even her doing.'

I could not think so then, but the light of the after years proved him wiser than I. A man, to see far, must

climb to some height, and I was too much upon the plain in those days to catch even a glimpse of distant

sunlit uplands of triumphant achievement that lie beyond the valley of selfsacrifice.

Thursday morning found Craig anxious, even gloomy, but with fight in every line of his face. I tried to cheer

him in my clumsy way by chaffing him about his League. But he did not blaze up as he often did. It was a

thing too near his heart for that. He only shrank a little from my stupid chaff and said

'Don't, old chap; this is a good deal to me. I've tried for two years to get this, and if it falls through now, I

Then I repented my light words and said, 'Why! the thing will go sure enough: after that scene in the church

'Poor fellows!' he said as if to himself; 'whisky is about the only excitement they have, and they find it pretty

tough to give it up; and a lot of the men are against the total abstinence idea. It seems rot to them.'

'No; I fear not. There is nothing else for it. Some of them talk of compromise. They want to quit the saloon

and drink quietly in their shacks. The moderate drinker may have his place in other countries, though I can't

see it. I haven't thought that out, but here the only safe man is the man who quits it dead and fights it straight;

I had not gone in much for total abstinence up to this time, chiefly because its advocates seemed for the most

part to be somewhat illbalanced; but as I listened to Craig, I began to feel that perhaps there was a total

abstinence side to the temperance question; and as to Black Rock, I could see how it must be one thing or the

We found Mrs. Mavor brave and bright. She shared Mr. Craig's anxiety but not his gloom. Her courage was

of that serene kind that refuses to believe defeat possible, and lifts the spirit into the triumph of final victory.

Through the past week she had been carefully disposing her forces and winning recruits. And yet she never

seemed to urge or persuade the men; but as evening after evening the miners dropped into the cosy room

downstairs, with her talk and her songs she charmed them till they were wholly hers. She took for granted

their loyalty, trusted them utterly, and so made it difficult for them to be other than true men.

That night Mrs. Mavor's large storeroom, which had been fitted up with seats, was crowded with miners

After a glance over the crowd, Craig said, 'There's the manager; that means war.' And I saw a tall man, very

fair, whose chin fell away to the vanishing point, and whose hair was parted in the middle, talking to Mrs.

Mavor. She was dressed in some rich soft stuff that became her well. She was looking beautiful as ever, but

there was something quite new in her manner. Her air of good fellowship was gone, and she was the

highbred lady, whose gentle dignity and sweet grace, while very winning, made familiarity impossible.

The manager was doing his best, and appeared to be well pleased with himself. 'She'll get him if any one can.

I stood looking at the men, and a fine lot of fellows they were. Free, easy, bold in their bearing, they gave no

sign of rudeness; and, from their frequent glances toward Mrs. Mavor, I could see they were always

conscious of her presence. No men are so truly gentle as are the Westerners in the presence of a good woman.

They were evidently of all classes and ranks originally, but now, and in this country of real measurements,

they ranked simply according to the 'man' in them. 'See that handsome, young chap of dissipated appearance?'

said Craig; 'that's Vernon Winton, an Oxford graduate, blue blood, awfully plucky, but quite gone. When he

'From Oxford University to Black Rock mining camp is something of a step,' I replied.

'That queerlooking little chap in the corner is Billy Breen. How in the world has he got here?' went on Mr.

Craig. Queerlooking he was. A little man, with a small head set on heavy square shoulders, long arms, and

huge hands that sprawled all over his body; altogether a most ungainly specimen of humanity.

By this time Mrs. Mavor had finished with the manager, and was in the centre of a group of miners. Her

grand air was all gone, and she was their comrade, their friend, one of themselves. Nor did she assume the

role of entertainer, but rather did she, with half shy air, cast herself upon their chivalry, and they were too

truly gentlemen to fail her. It is hard to make Western men, and especially oldtimers, talk. But this gift was

hers, and it stirred my admiration to see her draw on a grizzled veteran to tell how, twenty years ago, he had

crossed the Great Divide, and had seen and done what no longer fell to men to see or do in these new days.

And so she won the oldtimer. But it was beautiful to see the innocent guile with which she caught Billy

Breen, and drew him to her corner near the organ. What she was saying I knew not, but poor Billy was

The meeting came to order, with Shaw in the chair, and the handsome young Oxford man secretary. Shaw

stated the object of the meeting in a few halting words; but when he came to speak of the pleasure he and all

felt in being together in that room, his words flowed in a stream, warm and full. Then there was a pause, and

Mr. Craig was called. But he knew better than to speak at that point. Finally Nixon rose hesitatingly; but, as

he caught a bright smile from Mrs. Mavor, he straightened himself as if for a fight.

'I ain't no good at makin' speeches,' he began; 'but it ain't speeches we want. We've got somethin' to do, and

what we want to know is how to do it. And to be right plain, we want to know how to drive this cursed

whisky out of Black Rock. You all know what it's doing for usat least for some of us. And it's time to stop

it now, or for some of us it'll mighty soon be too late. And the only way to stop its work is to quit drinkin' it

and help others to quit. I hear some talk of a League, and what I say is, if it's a League out and out against

whisky, a Total Abstinence right to the ground, then I'm with itthat's my talkI move we make that kind

Nixon sat down amid cheers and a chorus of remarks, 'Good man!' 'That's the talk!' 'Stay with it!' but he

waited for the smile and the glance that came to him from the beautiful face in the corner, and with that he

Again there was silence. Then the secretary rose with a slight flush upon his handsome, delicate face, and

seconded the motion. If they would pardon a personal reference he would give them his reasons. He had

come to this country to make his fortune; now he was anxious to make enough to enable him to go home with

some degree of honour. His home held everything that was dear to him. Between him and that home, between

him and all that was good and beautiful and honourable, stood whisky. 'I am ashamed to confess,' and the

flush deepened on his cheek, and his lips grew thinner, 'that I feel the need of some such league.' His

handsome face, his perfect style of address, learned possibly in the 'Union,' but, more than all, his show of

nervefor these men knew how to value thatmade a strong impression on his audience; but there were no

Mr. Craig appeared hopeful; but on Mrs. Mavor's face there was a look of wistful, tender pity, for she knew

Then up rose a sturdy, hardfeatured man, with a burr in his voice that proclaimed his birth. His name was

George Crawford, I afterwards learned, but every one called him Geordie. He was a character in his way,

fond of his glass; but though he was never known to refuse a drink, he was never known to be drunk. He took

his drink, for the most part, with bread and cheese in his own shack, or with a friend or two in a sober,

respectable way, but never could be induced to join the wild carousals in Slavin's saloon. He made the highest

wages, but was far too true a Scot to spend his money recklessly. Every one waited eagerly to hear Geordie's

mind. He spoke solemnly, as befitted a Scotsman expressing a deliberate opinion, and carefully, as if

choosing his best English, for when Geordie became excited no one in Black Rock could understand him.

'Maister Chairman,' said Geordie, 'I'm aye for temperance in a' things.' There was a shout of laughter, at

which Geordie gazed round in pained surprise. 'I'll no' deny,' he went on in an explanatory tone, 'that I tak ma

mornin', an' maybe a nip at noon; an' a wee drap aifter wark in the evenin', an' whiles a sip o' toddy wi' a freen

thae cauld nichts. But I'm no' a guzzler, an' I dinna gang in wi' thae loons flingin' aboot guid money.'

'And that's thrue for you, me bye,' interrupted a rich Irish brogue, to the delight of the crowd and the

'An' I canna bide yon saloon whaur they sell sic awfu'like stuff it's mair like lye nor guid whisky,and

whaur ye're never sure o' yer richt change. It's an awfu'like place; man!'and Geordie began to warm

up'ye can juist smell the sulphur when ye gang in. But I dinna care aboot thae Temperance Soceeities, wi'

their pledges an' havers; an' I canna see what hairm can come till a man by takin' a bottle o' guid Glenlivet

Geordie's speech was followed by loud applause, partly appreciative of Geordie himself, but largely

Two or three men followed in the same strain advocating a league for mutual improvement and social

purposes, but without the teetotal pledge; they were against the saloon, but didn't see why they should not

Finally the manager rose to support his 'friend, Mistahah Cwafoad,' ridiculing the idea of a total

abstinence pledge as fanatical and indeed 'absuad.' He was opposed to the saloon, and would like to see a club

formed, with a comfortable clubroom, books, magazines, pictures, games, anything, 'dontcheknow, to make

the time pass pleasantly'; but it was 'absuad to ask men to abstain fwom a pwopah use ofawnouwishing

dwinks,' because some men made beasts of themselves. He concluded by offering $50.00 towards the support

The current of feeling was setting strongly against the total abstinence idea, and Craig's face was hard and his

eyes gleamed like coals. Then he did a bit of generalship. He proposed that since they had the two plans

clearly before them they should take a few minutes' intermission in which to make up their minds, and he was

sure they would be glad to have Mrs. Mavor sing. In the interval the men talked in groups, eagerly, even

fiercely, hampered seriously in the forceful expression of their opinion by the presence of Mrs. Mavor, who

glided from group to group, dropping a word here and a smile there. She reminded me of a general riding

along the ranks, bracing his men for the coming battle. She paused beside Geordie, spoke earnestly for a few

moments, while Geordie gazed solemnly at her, and then she came back to Billy in the corner near me. What

she was saying I could not hear, but poor Billy was protesting, spreading his hands out aimlessly before him,

but gazing at her the while in dumb admiration. Then she came to me. 'Poor Billy, he was good to my

I moved over beside Billy, whose eyes were following Mrs. Mavor as she went to speak to Mr. Craig. 'Well,'

'An 'igh hopinion,' he replied, in deep scorn. 'An 'igh hopinion, you calls it.'

He drew his eyes away from Mrs. Mavor, and gave attention to me for the first time.

'Nice!' he repeated with fine contempt; and then he added impressively, 'Them as don't know shouldn't say

He gave me a quick glance out of his little, deepset, darkblue eyes, and opened his heart to me. He told me,

in his quaint speech, how again and again she had taken him in and nursed him, and encouraged him, and sent

him out with a new heart for his battle, until, for very shame's sake at his own miserable weakness, he had

'Now, oi hain't got no grip; but when she says to me tonight, says she, "Oh, Billy"she calls me Billy to

myself' (this with a touch of pride)'"oh, Billy," says she, "we must 'ave a total habstinence league tonight,

and oi want you to 'elp!" and she keeps alookin' at me with those heyes o' hern till, if you believe me, sir,'

lowering his voice to an emphatic whisper, 'though oi knowed oi couldn't 'elp none, afore oi knowed oi

promised 'er oi would. It's 'er heyes. When them heyes says "do," hup you steps and "does."'

I remembered my first look into her eyes, and I could quite understand Billy's submission. Just as she began

to sing I went over to Geordie and took my seat beside him. She began with an English slumber song, 'Sleep,

Baby, Sleep'one of Barry Cornwall's, I think,and then sang a lovesong with the refrain, 'Love once

again'; but no thrills came to me, and I began to wonder if her spell over me was broken. Geordie, who had

been listening somewhat indifferently, encouraged me, however, by saying, 'She's just pittin' aff time with

thae feckless sangs; man, there's nae grup till them.' But when, after a few minutes' pause, she began 'My Ain

Fireside,' Geordie gave a sigh of satisfaction. 'Ay, that's somethin' like,' and when she finished the first verse

he gave me a dig in the ribs with his elbow that took my breath away, saying in a whisper, 'Man, hear till yon,

wull ye?' And again I found the spell upon me. It was not the voice after all, but the great soul behind that

thrilled and compelled. She was seeing, feeling, living what she sang, and her voice showed us her heart. The

cosy fireside, with its bonnie, blithe blink, where no care could abide, but only peace and love, was vividly

'When I draw in my stool On my cosy hearthstane, My heart loups sae licht I scarce ken't for my ain,'

there was a feeling of tears in the flowing song, and we knew the words had brought her a picture of the

fireside that would always seem empty. I felt the tears in my eyes, and, wondering at myself, I cast a stealthy

glance at the men about me; and I saw that they, too, were looking through their hearts' windows upon

And then she sang 'The Auld Hoose,' and Geordie, giving me another poke, said, 'That's ma ain sang,' and

when I asked him what he meant, he whispered fiercely, 'Wheesht, man!' and I did, for his face looked

In a pause between the verses I heard Geordie saying to himself, 'Ay, I maun gie it up, I doot.'

'Naething ava.' And then he added impatiently, 'Man, but ye're an inqueesitive buddie,' after which I subsided

Immediately upon the meeting being called to order, Mr. Craig made his speech, and it was a fine bit of work.

Beginning with a clear statement of the object in view, he set in contrast the two kinds of leagues proposed.

One, a league of men who would take whisky in moderation; the other, a league of men who were pledged to

drink none themselves, and to prevent in every honourable way others from drinking. There was no long

argument, but he spoke at white heat; and as he appealed to the men to think, each not of himself alone, but of

the others as well, the yearning, born of his long months of desire and of toil, vibrated in his voice and

reached to the heart. Many men looked uncomfortable and uncertain, and even the manager looked none too

At this critical moment the crowd got a shock. Billy Breen shuffled out to the front, and, in a voice shaking

with nervousness and emotion, began to speak, his large, coarse hands wandering tremulously about.

'Oi hain't no bloomin' temperance horator, and mayhap oi hain't no right to speak 'ere, but oi got somethin' to

'Parson, 'ee says is it wisky or no wisky in this 'ere club? If ye hask me, wich (which) ye don't, then no wisky,

says oi; and if ye hask why?look at me! Once oi could mine more coal than hany man in the camp; now oi

hain't fit to be a sorter. Once oi 'ad some pride and hambition; now oi 'angs round awaitin' for some one to

saigh, "Ere, Billy, 'ave summat." Once oi made good paigh (pay), and sent it 'ome regular to my poor old

mother (she's in the wukus now, she is); oi hain't sent 'er hany for a year and a 'alf. Once Billy was a good

fellow and 'ad plenty o' friends; now Slavin 'isself kicks un hout, 'ee does. Why? why?' His voice rose to a

shriek. 'Because when Billy 'ad money in 'is pocket, hevery man in this bloomin' camp as meets un at hevery

corner says, "'Ello, Billy, wat'll ye 'ave?" And there's wisky at Slavin's, and there's wisky in the shacks, and

hevery 'oliday and hevery Sunday there's wisky, and w'en ye feel bad it's wisky, and w'en ye feel good it's

wisky, and heverywhere and halways it's wisky, wisky, wisky! And now ye're goin' to stop it, and 'ow? T'

manager, 'ee says picters and magazines. 'Ee takes 'is wine and 'is beer like a gentleman, 'ee does, and 'ee

don't 'ave no use for Billy Breen. Billy, 'ee's a beast, and t' manager, 'ee kicks un hout. But supposin' Billy

wants to stop bein' a beast, and starts atryin' to be a man again, and w'en 'ee gets good an' dry, along comes

some un and says, "'Ello, Billy, 'ave a smile," it hain't picters nor magazines 'ud stop un then. Picters and

magazines! Gawd 'elp the man as hain't nothin' but picters and magazines to 'elp un w'en 'ee's got a devil

hinside and a devil houtside ashovin' and adrawin' of un down to 'ell. And that's w'ere oi'm agoin'

straight, and yer bloomin' League, wisky or no wisky, can't help me. But,' and he lifted his trembling hands

above his head, 'if ye stop the wisky aflowin' round this camp, ye'll stop some of these lads that's

afollowin' me 'ard. Yes, you! and you! and you!' and his voice rose to a wild scream as he shook a trembling

'Man, it's fair gruesome tae hear him,' said Geordie; 'he's no' canny'; and reaching out for Billy as he went

stumbling past, he pulled him down to a seat beside him, saying, 'Sit doon, lad, sit doon. We'll mak a man o'

ye yet.' Then he rose and, using many r's, said, 'Maister Chairman, a' doot we'll juist hae to gie it up.'

'Na! na! lad, but juist the wee drap whusky. It's nae that guid onyway, and it's a terrible price. Man, gin ye

gang tae Henderson's in Buchanan Street, in Gleska, ye ken, ye'll get mair for threean'saxpence than ye

wull at Slavin's for five dollars. An' it'll no' pit ye mad like yon stuff, but it gangs doon smooth an' saftlike.

But' (regretfully) 'ye'll no' can get it here; an' a'm thinkin' a'll juist sign yon teetotal thing.' And up he strode to

the table and put his name down in the book Craig had ready. Then to Billy he said, 'Come' awa, lad! pit yer

Poor Billy looked around helplessly, his nerve all gone, and sat still. There was a swift rustle of garments,

and Mrs. Mavor was beside him, and, in a voice that only Billy and I could hear, said, 'You'll sign with, me,

Billy gazed at her with a hopeless look in his eyes, and shook his little, head. She leaned slightly toward him,

As Billy went up, following Mrs. Mavor close, a hush fell on the men until he had put his name to the pledge;

then they came up, man by man, and signed. But Craig sat with his head down till I touched his shoulder. He

took my hand and held it fast, saying over and over, under his breath, 'Thank God, thank God!'

When I grow weary with the conventions of religion, and sick in my soul from feeding upon husks, that the

churches too often offer me, in the shape of elaborate service and eloquent discourses, so that in my sickness

I doubt and doubt, then I go back to the communion in Black Rock and the days preceding it, and the fever

and the weariness leave me, and I grow humble and strong. The simplicity and rugged grandeur of the faith,

the humble gratitude of the rough men I see about the table, and the calm radiance of one saintly face, rest

Not its most enthusiastic apologist would call Black Rock a religious community, but it possessed in a

marked degree that eminent Christian virtue of tolerance. All creeds, all shades of religious opinion, were

allowed, and it was generally conceded that one was as good as another. It is fair to say, however, that Black

Rock's catholicity was negative rather than positive. The only religion objectionable was that insisted upon as

a necessity. It never occurred to any one to consider religion other than as a respectable, if not ornamental,

During the weeks following the making of the League, however, this negative attitude towards things

religious gave place to one of keen investigation and criticism. The indifference passed away, and with it, in a

large measure, the tolerance. Mr. Craig was responsible for the former of these changes, but hardly, in

fairness, could he be held responsible for the latter. If any one, more than another, was to be blamed for the

rise of intolerance in the village, that man was Geordie Crawford. He had his 'lines' from the Established Kirk

of Scotland, and when Mr. Craig announced his intention of having the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper

observed, Geordie produced his 'lines' and promptly handed them in. As no other man in the village was

equipped with like spiritual credentials, Geordie constituted himself a kind of kirksession, charged with the

double duty of guarding the entrance to the Lord's Table, and of keeping an eye upon the theological opinions

of the community, and more particularly upon such members of it as gave evidence of possessing any

It came to be Mr. Craig's habit to drop into the Leagueroom, and toward the close of the evening to have a

short Scripture lesson from the Gospels. Geordie's opportunity came after the meeting was over and Mr.

Craig had gone away. The men would hang about and talk the lesson over, expressing opinions favourable or

unfavourable as appeared to them good. Then it was that all sorts of views, religious and otherwise, were

aired and examined. The originality of the ideas, the absolute disregard of the authority of church or creed,

the frankness with which opinions were stated, and the forcefulness of the language in which they were

expressed, combined to make the discussions altogether marvellous. The passage between Abe Baker, the

stagedriver, and Geordie was particularly rich. It followed upon a very telling lesson on the parable of the

The chief actors in that wonderful story were transferred to the Black Rock stage, and were presented in

miner's costume. Abe was particularly well pleased with the scoring of the 'blanked old rooster who crowed

so blanked high,' and somewhat incensed at the quiet remark interjected by Geordie, 'that it was nae credit till

a man tae be a sinner'; and when Geordie went on to urge the importance of right conduct and respectability,

Abe was led to pour forth vials of contemptuous wrath upon the Pharisees and hypocrites who thought

themselves better than other people. But Geordie was quite unruffled, and lamented the ignorance of men

who, brought up in 'Epeescopawlyun or Methody' churches, could hardly be expected to detect the

'Aunty Nomyun or Uncle Nomyun,' replied Abe, boiling hot, 'my mother was a Methodist, and I'll back any

blanked Methodist against any blankety blank longfaced, lanternjawed, skinflint Presbyterian,' and this he

Geordie was quite unmoved, but hastened to assure Abe that he meant no disrespect to his mother, who he

had 'nae doot was a clever enough buddie, tae judge by her son.' Abe was speedily appeased, and offered to

set up the drinks all round. But Geordie, with evident reluctance, had to decline, saying, 'Na, na, lad, I'm a

League man ye ken,' and I was sure that Geordie at that moment felt that membership in the League had its

Nor was Geordie too sure of Craig's orthodoxy; while as to Mrs. Mavor, whose slave he was, he was in the

'She's a fine wumman, nae doot; but, puir cratur, she's fair carried awa wi' the errors o' thae

It fell to Geordie, therefore, as a sacred duty, in view of the laxity of those who seemed to be the pillars of the

Church, to be all the more watchful and unyielding. But he was delightfully inconsistent when confronted

with particulars. In conversation with him one night after one of the meetings, when he had been specially

hard upon the ignorant and godless, I innocently changed the subject to Billy Breen, whom Geordie had taken

to his shack since the night of the League. He was very proud of Billy's success in the fight against whisky,

'He's fair daft aboot her,' he explained to me, 'an' I'll no' deny but she's a great help, ay, a verra conseederable

asseestance; but, man, she doesna ken the whusky, an' the inside o' a man that's wantin' it. Ay, puir buddie,

she diz her pairt, an' when ye're a bit restless an thrawn aifter yer day's wark, it's like a walk in a bonnie glen

on a simmer eve, with the birds liltin' aboot, tae sit in yon roomie and hear her sing; but when the night is on,

an' ye canna sleep, but wauken wi' an' awfu' thurst and wi' dreams o' cosy firesides, and the bonnie sparklin'

glosses, as it is wi' puir Billy, ay, it's then ye need a man wi' a guid grup beside ye.'

'Oo ay, I juist gang for a bit walk wi' the lad, and then pits the kettle on an' maks a cup o' tea or coffee, an' aff

'Poor Billy,' I said pityingly, 'there's no hope for him in the future, I fear.'

'Hoot awa, man,' said Geordie quickly. 'Ye wadna keep oot a puir cratur frae creepin' in, that's daein' his

'But, Geordie,' I remonstrated, 'he doesn't know anything of the doctrines. I don't believe he could give us

'An' wha's tae blame for that?' said Geordie, with fine indignation. 'An' maybe you remember the prood

The mingled tenderness and indignation in Geordie's face were beautiful to see, so I meekly answered, 'Well,

Geordie shot a suspicious glance at me, but I kept my face like a summer morn, and he replied cautiously

Geordie was none the less determined, however, that Billy should 'come forrit'; but as to the manager, who

was a member of the English Church, and some others who had been confirmed years ago, and had forgotten

much and denied more, he was extremely doubtful, and expressed himself in very decided words to the

'Ye'll no' be askin' forrit thae Epeescopawlyun buddies. They juist ken naething ava.'

But Mr. Craig looked at him for a moment and said, "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out,"'

With all these somewhat fantastic features, however, there was no mistaking the earnest spirit of the men.

The meetings grew larger every night, and the interest became more intense. The singing became different.

The men no longer simply shouted, but as Mr. Craig would call attention to the sentiment of the hymn, the

voices would attune themselves to the words. Instead of encouraging anything like emotional excitement, Mr.

'These chaps are easily stirred up,' he would say, 'and I am anxious that they should know exactly what they

Although Graeme did not go downstairs to the meetings, he could not but feel the throb of the emotion

beating in the heart of the community. I used to detail for his benefit, and sometimes for his amusement, the

incidents of each night. But I never felt quite easy in dwelling upon the humorous features in Mrs. Mavor's

presence, although Craig did not appear to mind. His manner with Graeme was perfect. Openly anxious to

win him to his side, he did not improve the occasion and vex him with exhortation. He would not take him at

a disadvantage, though, as I afterwards found, this was not his sole reason for his method. Mrs. Mavor, too,

showed herself in wise and tender light. She might have been his sister, so frank was she and so openly

Never were better comrades than we four, and the bright days speeding so swiftly on drew us nearer to one

But the bright days came to an end; for Graeme, when once he was able to go about, became anxious to get

back to the camp. And so the last day came, a day I remember well. It was a bright, crisp winter day.

The air was shimmering in the frosty light. The mountains, with their shining heads piercing through light

clouds into that wonderful blue of the western sky, and their feet pushed into the pine masses, gazed down

upon Black Rock with calm, kindly looks on their old grey faces. How one grows to love them, steadfast old

friends! Far up among the pines we could see the smoke of the engine at the works, and so still and so clear

was the mountain air that we could hear the puff of the steam, and from far down the river the murmur of the

rapids. The majestic silence, the tender beauty, the peace, the loneliness, too, came stealing in upon us, as we

three, leaving Mrs. Mavor behind us, marched arminarm down the street. We had not gone far on our way,

when Graeme, turning round, stood a moment looking back, then waved his hand in farewell. Mrs. Mavor

was at her window, smiling and waving in return. They had grown to be great friends these two; and seemed

to have arrived at some understanding. Certainly, Graeme's manner to her was not that he bore to other

women. His halfquizzical, somewhat superior air of mocking devotion gave place to a simple, earnest,

As he stood there waving his farewell, I glanced at his face and saw for a moment what I had not seen for

years, a faint flush on Graeme's cheek and a light of simple, earnest faith in his eyes. It reminded me of my

first look of him when he had come up for his matriculation to the 'Varsity. He stood on the campus looking

up at the noble old pile, and there was the same bright, trustful, earnest look on his boyish face.

I know not what spirit possessed me; it may have been the pain of the memory working in me, but I said,

coarsely enough, 'It's no use, Graeme, my boy; I would fall in love with her myself, but there would be no

'It's not like you, Connor, to be an ass of that peculiar kind. Love!not exactly! She won't fall in love

But Craig met him with unshrinking gaze, quietly remarking, 'Her heart is under the pines'; and we moved on,

We were on our way to Craig's shack, and as we passed the saloon Slavin stepped from the door with a

salutation. Graeme paused. 'Hello, Slavin! I got rather the worst of it, didn't I?'

Slavin came near, and said earnestly, 'It was a dirty thrick altogether; you'll not think it was moine, Mr.

'And you bate me fair; an' bedad it was a nate one that laid me out; an' there's no grudge in me heart till ye.'

'An' that's thrue for yez, sor; an' I'll see that your byes don't get any more than they ask for,' replied Slavin,

Craig made him a cup of tea, while I smoked, admiring much the deft neatness of the minister's

In our talk we drifted into the future, and Craig let us see what were his ambitions. The railway was soon to

come; the resources were, as yet, unexplored, but enough was known to assure a great future for British

Columbia. As he talked his enthusiasm grew, and carried us away. With the eye of a general he surveyed the

country, fixed the strategic points which the Church must seize upon. Eight good men would hold the country

'The Church must be in with the railway; she must have a hand in the shaping of the country. If society

crystallises without her influence, the country is lost, and British Columbia will be another trapdoor to the

'Hopeless! hopeless!' he cried; 'there were only twelve of us at first to follow Him, and rather a poor lot they

'Things? Yes! yes! But He is the same.' His face had an exalted look, and his eyes were gazing into faraway

'A dozen men in Black Rock with some real grip of Him would make things go. We'll get them, too,' he went

'Look here, Craig; if you organise I'd like to join,' said Graeme impulsively. 'I don't believe much in your

Craig looked at him with wistful eyes, and shook his head. 'It won't do, old chap, you know. I can't hold you.

You've got to have a grip of some one better than I am; and then, besides, I hardly like asking you now'; he

hesitated'well, to be outand out, this step must be taken not for my sake, nor for any man's sake, and I

'That I do, old fellow,' said Graeme, putting out his hand. 'I'll be hanged if I won't do anything you say.'

'That's why I won't say,' replied Craig. Then reverently he added, 'the organisation is not mine. It is my

'We shall have our communion service in two weeks, and that will be our rollcall.'

'Three! There are two hundred miners and one hundred and fifty lumbermen! Three!' and Graeme looked at

'Well,' replied Craig, smiling for the first time, 'the organisation won't be elaborate, but it will be effective,

We sat long that afternoon talking, shrinking from the breaking up; for we knew that we were about to turn

down a chapter in our lives which we should delight to linger over in after days. And in my life there is but

one brighter. At last we said goodbye and drove away; and though many farewells have come in between

that day and this, none is so vividly present to me as that between us three men. Craig's manner with me was

solemn enough. '"He that loveth his life"; goodbye, don't fool with this,' was what he said to me. But when

he turned to Graeme his whole face lit up. He took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake, looking

And Graeme could say nothing in reply, but only looked at him. Then they silently shook hands, and we

drove off. But long after we had got over the mountain and into the winding forest road on the way to the

lumbercamp the voice kept vibrating in my heart, 'You'll come, you'll come,' and there was a hot pain in my

We said little during the drive to the camp. Graeme was thinking hard, and made no answer when I spoke to

him two or three times, till we came to the deep shadows of the pine forest, when with a little shiver he

'This business of religionwhat quaint varietiesNelson's, Geordie's, Billy Breen'sif he has anythen

Mrs. Mavor'sshe is a saint, of courseand that fellow Craig's. What a trump he is! and without his

His mystery was not mine. The Black Rock varieties of religion were certainly startling; but there was

undoubtedly the streak of reality though them all, and that discovery I felt to be a distinct gain.

The gleam of the great fire through the windows of the great camp gave a kindly welcome as we drove into

the clearing in which the shanties stood. Graeme was greatly touched at his enthusiastic welcome by the men.

At the suppertable he made a little speech of thanks for their faithfulness during his absence, specially

commending the care and efficiency of Mr. Nelson, who had had charge of the camp. The men cheered

wildly, Baptiste's shrill voice leading all. Nelson being called upon, expressed in a few words his pleasure at

seeing the Boss back, and thanked the men for their support while he had been in charge.

The men were for making a night of it; but fearing the effect upon Graeme, I spoke to Nelson, who passed the

word, and in a short time the camp was quiet. As we sauntered from the grubcamp to the office where was

our bed, we paused to take in the beauty of the night. The moon rode high over the peaks of the mountains,

flooding the narrow valley with mellow light. Under her magic the rugged peaks softened their harsh lines

and seemed to lean lovingly toward us. The dark pine masses stood silent as in breathless adoration; the

dazzling snow lay like a garment over all the open spaces in soft, waving folds, and crowned every stump

with a quaintly shaped nightcap. Above the camps the smoke curled up from the campfires, standing like

pillars of cloud that kept watch while men slept. And high over all the deep blue night sky, with its star

jewels, sprang like the roof of a great cathedral from range to range, covering us in its kindly shelter. How

homelike and safe seemed the valley with its mountainsides, its sentinel trees and arching roof of jewelled

sky! Even the night seemed kindly, and friendly the stars; and the lone cry of the wolf from the deep forest

'How beautiful! too beautiful!' said Graeme, stretching out his arms. 'A night like this takes the heart out of

I stood silent, drinking in at every sense the night with its wealth of loveliness.

'What is it I want?' he went on. 'Why does the night make my heart ache? There are things to see and things

to hear just beyond me; I cannot get to them.' The gay, careless look was gone from his face, his dark eyes

'I often wonder if life has nothing better for me,' he continued with his heartache voice.

I said no word, but put my arm within his. A light appeared in the stable. Glad of a diversion, I said, 'What is

We walked slowly toward the stable, speaking no word. As we neared the door we heard the sound of a voice

in the monotone of one reading. I stepped forward and looked through a chink between the logs. Graeme was

about to open the door, but I held up my hand and beckoned him to me. In a vacant stall, where was a pile of

straw, a number of men were grouped. Sandy, leaning against the tying post upon which the stablelantern

hung, was reading; Nelson was kneeling in front of him and gazing into the gloom beyond; Baptiste lay upon

his stomach, his chin in his hands and his upturned eyes fastened upon Sandy's face; Lachlan Campbell sat

with his hands clasped about his knees, and two other men sat near him. Sandy was reading the undying story

of the Prodigal, Nelson now and then stopping him to make a remark. It was a scene I have never been able to

forget. Today I pause in my tale, and see it as clearly as when I looked through the chink upon it years ago.

The long, low stable, with log walls and upright hitchingpoles; the dim outlines of the horses in the gloom

of the background, and the little group of rough, almost savagelooking men, with faces wondering and

After the reading, Sandy handed the book to Nelson, who put it in his pocket, saying, 'That's for us, boys,

'Ay,' said Lachlan; 'it is often that has been read in my hearing, but I am afraid it will not be for me whatever,'

'Ay, but you are not Lachlan Campbell, and you hef not had his privileges. My father was a godly elder in the

'Yes, but He said "any man,"' persisted Nelson, putting his hand on Lachlan's knee. But Lachlan shook his

'He's got no nem? He's just a parom'ble? Das no young feller?' asked Baptiste anxiously; 'das mean noting?'

Then Nelson took him in hand and explained to him the meaning, while Baptiste listened even more eagerly,

ejaculating softly, 'ah, voila! bon! by gar!' When Nelson had finished he broke out, 'Dat young feller, his

name Baptiste, heh? and de old Fadder he's le bon Dieu? Bon! das good story for me. How you go back? You

'The book doesn't say priest or any one else,' said Nelson. 'You go back in yourself, you see?'

'Non; das so, sure nuff. Ah!'as if a light broke in upon him 'you go in your own self. You make one

leetle prayer. You say, "Le bon Fadder, oh! I want come back, I so tire, so hongree, so sorree"? He, say,

"Come right 'long." Ah! das fussrate. Nelson, you make one leetle prayer for Sandy and me.'

And Nelson lifted up his face and said: 'Father, we're all gone far away; we have spent all, we are poor, we

are tired of it all; we want to feel different, to be different; we want to come back. Jesus came to save us from

our sins; and he said if we came He wouldn't cast us out, no matter how bad we were, if we only came to

Him. Oh, Jesus Christ'and his old, iron face began to work, and two big tears slowly came from under his

eyelids'we are a poor lot, and I'm the worst of the lot, and we are trying to find the way. Show us how to

Graeme pulled me away, and without a word we went into the office and drew up to the little stove. Graeme

'Did you ever see anything like that?' he asked. 'Old Nelson! the hardest, savagest, toughest old sinner in the

'Before God,' I could not help saying, for the thing seemed very real to me. The old man evidently felt

'Yes, I suppose you're right,' said Graeme doubtfully; 'but there's a lot of stuff I can't swallow.'

'When you take medicine you don't swallow the bottle,' I replied, for his trouble was not mine.

'If I were sure of the medicine, I wouldn't mind the bottle, and yet it acts well enough,' he went on. 'I don't

mind Lachlan; he's a Highland mystic, and has visions, and Sandy's almost as bad, and Baptiste is an

impulsive little chap. Those don't count much. But old man Nelson is a coolblooded, levelheaded old

fellow; has seen a lot of life, too. And then there's Craig. He has a better head than I have, and is as

hotblooded, and yet he is living and slaving away in that hole, and really enjoys it. There must be something

'Oh, look here, Graeme,' I burst out impatiently; 'what's the use of your talking like that? Of course there's

something in it. I here's everything in it. The trouble with me is I can't face the music. It calls for a life where

a fellow must go in for straight, steady work, selfdenial, and that sort of thing; and I'm too Bohemian for

that, and too lazy. But that fellow Craig makes one feel horribly uncomfortable.'

'I believe you're right about yourself. You always were a luxurious beggar. But that's not where it catches me.'

We sat and smoked and talked of other things for an hour, and then turned in. As I was dropping off I was

'I say, do you remember the preparatory service at home?' There was something in his voice that set me wide

'Yes. Rather terrific, wasn't it? But I always felt better after it,' I replied.

'To me'he was sitting up in bed now'to me it was like a call to arms, or rather like a call for a forlorn

hope. None but volunteers wanted. Do you remember the thrill in the old governor's voice as he dared any but

And so we did. Sandy took a load of men with his team, and Graeme and I drove in the light sleigh.

The meeting was in the church, and over a hundred men were present. There was some singing of familiar

hymns at first, and then Mr. Craig read the same story as we had heard in the stable, that most perfect of all

parables, the Prodigal Son. Baptiste nudged Sandy in delight, and whispered something, but Sandy held his

'Look at Sandy! Did you ever see such a graven image? Something has hit him hard.'

The men were held fast by the story. The voice of the reader, low, earnest, and thrilling with the tender pathos

of the tale, carried the words to our hearts, while a glance, a gesture, a movement of the body gave us the

Then, in simplest of words, he told us what the story meant, holding us the while with eyes, and voice, and

gesture. He compelled us scorn the gay, heartless selfishness of the young fool setting forth so jauntily from

the broken home; he moved our pity and our sympathy for the young profligate, who, broken and deserted,

had still pluck enough to determine to work his way back, and who, in utter desperation, at last gave it up;

and then he showed us the homecomingthe ragged, heartsick tramp, with hesitating steps, stumbling

along the dusty road, and then the rush of the old father, his garments fluttering, and his voice heard in broken

He announced the hymn, 'Just as I am,' read the first verse, and then went on: 'There you are, men, every man

of you, somewhere on the road. Some of you are too lazy'here Graeme nudged me'and some of you

haven't got enough yet of the far country to come back. May there be a chance for you when you want to

come! Men, you all want to go back home, and when you go you'll want to put on your soft clothes, and you

won't go till you can go in good style; but where did the prodigal get his good clothes?' Quick came the

'Yes! and that's where we must get the good, clean heart, the good, clean, brave heart, from our Father. Don't

They sang, not loud, as they would 'Stand Up,' or even 'The Sweet By and By,' but in voices subdued, holding

After the singing, Craig stood a moment gazing down at the men, and then said quietly

'Any man want to come? You all might come. We all must come.' Then, sweeping his arm over the audience,

and turning half round as if to move off, he cried, in a voice that thrilled to the heart's core

The effect was overpowering. It seemed to me that the whole company half rose to their feet. Of the prayer

that immediately followed, I only caught the opening sentence, 'Father, we are coming back,' for my attention

was suddenly absorbed by Abe, the stagedriver, who was sitting next me. I could hear him swearing

'Ain't he a clinker! I'll be geewhizzlygoldusted if he ain't a malleableirondoublebackaction

selfadjusting corncracker.' And the prayer continued to be punctuated with like admiring and even more

sulphurous expletives. It was an incongruous medley. The earnest, reverent prayer, and the earnest, admiring

profanity, rendered chaotic one's ideas of religious propriety. The feelings in both were akin; the method of

After prayer, Craig's tone changed utterly. In a quiet, matterof fact, businesslike way he stated his plan of

organisation, and called for all who wished to join to remain after the benediction. Some fifty men were left,

among them Nelson, Sandy, Lachlan Campbell, Baptiste, Shaw, Nixon, Geordie, and Billy Breen, who tried

Graeme was passing out, but I signed him to remain, saying that I wished 'to see the thing out.' Abe sat still

beside me, swearing disgustedly at the fellows 'who were going back on the preacher.' Craig appeared

amazed at the number of men remaining, and seemed to fear that something was wrong. He put before them

the terms of discipleship, as the Master put them to the eager scribe, and he did not make them easy. He

pictured the kind of work to be done, and the kind of men needed for the doing of it. Abe grew uneasy as the

minister went on to describe the completeness of the surrender, the intensity of the loyalty demanded.

'That knocks me out, I reckon,' he muttered, in a disappointed tone; 'I ain't up to that grade.' And as Craig

described the heroism called for, the magnificence of the fight, the worth of it, and the outcome of it all, Abe

ground out: I'll be blanked if I wouldn't like to take a hand, but I guess I'm not in it.' Craig finished by

'I want to put this quite fairly. It is not any league of mine; you're not joining my company; it is no easy

business, and it is for your whole life. What do you say? Do I put it fairly? What do you say, Nelson?'

'I may be all wrong, but you made it easier for me, Mr. Craig. You said He would see me through, or I should

never have risked it. Perhaps I am wrong,' and the old man looked troubled. Craig sprang up.

'No! no! Thank God, no! He will see every man through who will trust his life to Him. Every man, no matter

'Well, sir! I believe a lot of the men would go in for this if they were dead sure they would get through.'

'Get through!' said Craig; 'never a fear of it. It is a hard fight, a long fight, a glorious fight,' throwing up his

head, but every man who squarely trusts Him, and takes Him as Lord and Master, comes out victor!'

'Bon!' said Baptiste 'Das me. You tink He's take me in dat fight, M'sieu Craig, heh?' His eyes were blazing.

'Hear what He says, then'; and Craig, turning over the leaves of his Testament, read solemnly the words,

'Non! For sure! Den I stop him,' replied Baptiste earnestly; and Craig wrote his name down.

Poor Abe looked amazed and distressed, rose slowly, and saying, 'That jars my whisky jug,' passed out. There

was a slight movement near the organ, and glancing up I saw Mrs. Mavor put her face hastily in her hands.

The men's faces were anxious and troubled, and Nelson said in a voice that broke

'Tell them what you told me, sir.' But Craig was troubled too, and replied, 'You tell them, Nelson!' and

Nelson told the men the story of how he began just five weeks ago. The old man's voice steadied as he went

on, and he grew eager as he told how he had been helped, and how the world was all different, and his heart

seemed new. He spoke of his Friend as if He were some one that could be seen out at camp, that he knew

But as he tried to say how deeply he regretted that he had not known all this years before, the old, hard face

began to quiver, and the steady voice wavered. Then he pulled himself together, and said

'I begin to feel sure He'll pull me throughme! the hardest man in the mountains! So don't you fear, boys.

Then the men gave in their names, one by one. When it came to Geordie's turn, he gave his name

'George Crawford, frae the pairish o' Kilsyth, Scotland, an' ye'll juist pit doon the lad's name, Maister Craig;

he's a wee bit fashed wi' the discoorse, but he has the root o' the maitter in him, I doot.' And so Billy Breen's

When the meeting was over, thirtyeight names stood upon the communion roll of the Black Rock

Presbyterian Church; and it will ever be one of the regrets of my life that neither Graeme's name nor my own

appeared on that roll. And two days after, when the cup went round on that first Communion Sabbath, from

Nelson to Sandy, and from Sandy to Baptiste, and so on down the line to Billy Breen and Mrs. Mavor, and

then to Abe, the driver, whom she had by her own mystic power lifted into hope and faith, I felt all the shame

and pain of a traitor; and I believe, in my heart that the fire of that pain and shame burned something of the

The last words of the minister, in the short address after the table had been served, were low, and sweet, and

tender, but they were words of high courage; and before he had spoken them all, the men were listening with

shining eyes, and when they rose to sing the closing hymn they stood straight and stiff like soldiers on

There is no doubt in my mind that nature designed me for a great painter. A railway director interfered with

that design of nature, as he has with many another of hers, and by the transmission of an order for mountain

pieces by the dozen, together with a cheque so large that I feared there was some mistake, he determined me

to be an illustrator and designer for railway and like publications. I do not like these people ordering 'by the

dozen.' Why should they not consider an artist's finer feelings? Perhaps they cannot understand them; but

they understand my pictures, and I understand their cheques, and there we are quits. But so it came that I

Looking back upon the events of that night from the midst of gentle and decent surroundings, they now seem

It was the Good Friday ball that wrecked the League. For the fact that the promoters of the ball determined

that it should be a ball rather than a dance was taken by the League men as a concession to the new public

opinion in favour of respectability created by the League. And when the manager's patronage had been

secured (they failed to get Mrs. Mavor's), and it was further announced that, though held in the Black Rock

Hotel ballroomindeed, there was no other placerefreshments suited to the peculiar tastes of League men

would be provided, it was felt to be almost a necessity that the League should approve, should indeed

welcome, this concession to the public opinion in favour of respectability created by the League.

There were extreme men on both sides, of course. 'Idaho' Jack, professional gambler, for instance, frankly

considered that the whole town was going to unmentionable depths of propriety. The organisation of the

League was regarded by him, and by many others, as a sad retrograde towards the bondage of the ancient and

dying East; and that he could not get drunk when and where he pleased, 'Idaho,' as he was called, regarded as

But Idaho was never enamoured of the social ways of Black Rock. He was shocked and disgusted when he

discovered that a 'gun' was decreed by British law to be an unnecessary adornment of a card table. The

It is said that Idaho was industriously pursuing his avocation in Slavin's, with his 'gun' lying upon the

cardtable convenient to his hand, when in walked policeman Jackson, her Majesty's sole representative in

the Black Rock district. Jackson, 'Stonewall' Jackson, or 'Stonewall,' as he was called for obvious reasons,

after watching the game for a few moments, gently tapped the pistol and asked what he used this for.

'I'll show you in two holy minutes if you don't light out,' said Idaho, hardly looking up, but very angrily, for

'You're a stranger here. You ought to get a guidebook and post yourself. Now, the boys know I don't

interfere with an innocent little game, but there is a regulation against playing it with guns; so,' he added even

more sweetly, but fastening Idaho with a look from his steelgrey eyes, 'I'll just take charge of this,' picking

Idaho's rage, great as it was, was quite swallowed up in his amazed disgust at the state of society that would

permit such an outrage upon personal liberty. He was quite unable to play any more that evening, and it took

several drinks all round to restore him to articulate speech. The rest of the night was spent in retailing for his

Idaho bought a new 'gun,' but he wore it 'in his clothes,' and used it chiefly in the pastime of shooting out the

lights or in picking off the heels from the boys' boots while a stag dance was in progress in Slavin's. But in

Stonewall's presence Idaho was a most correct citizen. Stonewall he could understand and appreciate. He was

six feet three, and had an eye of unpleasant penetration. But this new feeling in the community for

respectability he could neither understand nor endure. The League became the object of his indignant

aversion, and the League men of his contempt. He had many sympathisers, and frequent were the assaults

upon the newly born sobriety of Billy Breen and others of the League. But Geordie's watchful care and Mrs.

Mavor's steady influence, together with the loyal cooperation of the League men, kept Billy safe so far.

Nixon, too, was a marked man. It may be that he carried himself with unnecessary jauntiness toward Slavin

and Idaho, saluting the former with, 'Awful dry weather! eh, Slavin?' and the latter with, 'Hello, old sport!

how's times?' causing them to swear deeply; and, as it turned out, to do more than swear.

But on the whole the antiLeague men were in favour of a respectable ball, and most of the League men

determined to show their appreciation of the concession of the committee to the principles of the League in

Nixon would not go. However jauntily he might talk, he could not trust himself, as he said, where whisky

was flowing, for it got into his nose 'like a fishhook into a salmon.' He was from Nova Scotia. For like

reason, Vernon Winton, the young Oxford fellow, would not go. When they chaffed, his lips grew a little

thinner, and the colour deepened in his handsome face, but he went on his way. Geordie despised the 'hale

hypothick' as a 'daft ploy,' and the spending of five dollars upon a ticket he considered a 'sinfu' waste o' guid

siller'; and he warned Billy against 'coontenancin' ony sic redeeklus nonsense.'

But no one expected Billy to go; although the last two months he had done wonders for his personal

appearance, and for his position in the social scale as well. They all knew what a fight he was making, and

esteemed him accordingly. How well I remember the pleased pride in his face when he told me in the

afternoon of the committee's urgent request that he should join the orchestra with his 'cello! It was not simply

that his 'cello was his joy and pride, but he felt it to be a recognition of his return to respectability.

Had Mr. Craig not been away at the Landing that week, had Geordie not been on the nightshift, had Mrs.

Mavor not been so occupied with the care of her sick child, it may be Billy might have been saved his fall.

The anticipation of the ball stirred Black Rock and the camps with a thrill of expectant delight. Nowadays,

when I find myself forced to leave my quiet smoke in my studio after dinner at the call of some social

engagement which I have failed to elude, I groan at my hard lot, and I wonder as I look back and remember

the pleasurable anticipation with which I viewed the approaching ball. But I do not wonder now any more

than I did then at the eager delight of the men who for seven days in the week swung their picks up in the

dark breasts of the mines, or who chopped and sawed among the solitary silences of the great forests. Any

break in the long and weary monotony was welcome; what mattered the cost or consequence! To the rudest

and least cultured of them the sameness of the life must have been hard to bear; but what it was to men who

had seen life in its most cultured and attractive forms I fail to imagine. From the mine, black and foul, to the

shack, bare, cheerless, and sometimes hideously repulsive, life swung in heartgrinding monotony till the

It was well on towards evening when Sandy's four horse team, with a load of men from the woods, came

swinging round the curves of the mountainroad and down the street. A gay crowd they were with their

bright, brown faces and hearty voices; and in ten minutes the whole street seemed alive with

lumbermenthey had a faculty of spreading themselves so. After night fell the miners came down 'done up

slick,' for this was a great occasion, and they must be up to it. The manager appeared in evening dress; but

As Graeme and I passed up to the Black Rock Hotel, in the large storeroom of which the ball was to be held,

'Yes,' he answered slowly; 'I'll drop in, though I don't like the look of things much.'

'Perhaps not,' replied Nelson, 'but I wish Mr. Craig were home.' And then he added, 'There's Idaho and Slavin

But Graeme laughed at his suspicion, and we passed on. The orchestra was tuning up. There were two

violins, a concertina, and the 'cello. Billy Breen was lovingly fingering his instrument, now and then

indulging himself in a little snatch of some air that came to him out of his happier past. He looked perfectly

delighted, and as I paused to listen he gave me a proud glance out of his deep, little, blue eyes, and went on

'Gone to bed,' said Shaw, 'and I am glad of it. He finds that the safest place on payday afternoon. The boys

The dancingroom was lined on two sides with beerbarrels and whiskykegs; at one end the orchestra sat,

at the other was a table with refreshments, where the 'soft drinks' might be had. Those who wanted anything

This was evidently a superior kind of ball, for the men kept on their coats, and went through the various

figures with faces of unnatural solemnity. But the strain upon their feelings was quite apparent, and it became

a question how long it could be maintained. As the trips through the passageway became more frequent the

dancing grew in vigour and hilarity, until by the time supper was announced the stiffness had sufficiently

But the committee had other cause for concern, inasmuch as after supper certain of the miners appeared with

their coats off, and proceeded to 'knock the knots out of the floor' in breakdown dances of extraordinary

energy. These, however, were beguiled into the barroom and 'filled up' for safety, for the committee were

determined that the respectability of the ball should be preserved to the end. Their reputation was at stake, not

in Black Rock only, but at the Landing as well, from which most of the ladies had come; and to be shamed in

the presence of the Landing people could not be borne. Their difficulties seemed to be increasing, for at this

point something seemed to go wrong with the orchestra. The 'cello appeared to be wandering aimlessly up

and down the scale, occasionally picking up the tune with animation, and then dropping it. As Billy saw me

approaching, he drew himself up with great solemnity, gravely winked at me, and said

'Shlipped a cog, Mishter Connor! Mosh hunfortunate! Beauchiful hinstrument, but shlips a cog. Mosh

And he wagged his little head sagely, playing all the while for dear life, now second and now lead.

Poor Billy! I pitied him, but I thought chiefly of the beautiful, eager face that leaned towards him the night

the League was made, and of the bright voice that said, 'You'll sign with me, Billy?' and it seemed to me a

cruel deed to make him lose his grip of life and hope; for this is what the pledge meant to him.

While I was trying to get Billy away to some safe place, I heard a great shouting in the direction of the bar,

followed by trampling and scuffling of feet in the passageway. Suddenly a man burst through, crying

It was Nixon, dressed in his best; black clothes, blue shirt, red tie, looking handsome enough, but halfdrunk

and wildly excited. The highland Fling competition was on at the moment, and Angus Campbell, Lachlan's

brother, was representing the lumber camps in the contest. Nixon looked on approvingly for a few moments,

then with a quick movement he seized the little Highlander, swung him in his powerful arms clean off the

floor, and deposited him gently upon a beerbarrel. Then he stepped into the centre of the room, bowed to the

The committee were perplexed, but after deliberation they decided to humour the new competitor, especially

Lightly and gracefully he went through his steps, the men crowding in from the bar to admire, for Nixon was

famed for his hornpipe. But when, after the hornpipe, he proceeded to execute a clogdance, garnished with

acrobatic feats, the committee interfered. There were cries of 'Put him out!' and 'Let him alone! Go on,

Nixon!' And Nixon hurled back into the crowd two of the committee who had laid remonstrating hands upon

'Put me out! Put me out! Certainly! Help yourselves! Don't mind me!' Then grinding his teeth, so that I heard

them across the room, he added with savage deliberation, 'If any man lays a finger on me, I'llI'll eat his

He stood for a few moments glaring round upon the company, and then strode toward the bar, followed by

the crowd wildly yelling. The ball was forthwith broken up. I looked around for Billy, but he was nowhere to

In a few moments the crowd came surging back headed by Nixon, who was waving a whiskybottle over his

'They've got poor Nixon in tow. Idaho is rather nasty,' he added, 'but I think I'll take a hand in this game; I've

The scene was one quite strange to me, and was wild beyond description. A hundred men filled the room.

Bottles were passed from hand to hand, and men drank their fill. Behind the refreshmenttables stood the

hotelman and his barkeeper with their coats off and sleeves rolled up to the shoulder, passing out bottles, and

drawing beer and whisky from two kegs hoisted up for that purpose. Nixon was in his glory. It was his night.

Every man was to get drunk at his expense, he proclaimed, flinging down bills upon the table. Near him were

some League men he was treating liberally, and never far away were Idaho and Slavin passing bottles, but

I followed Graeme, not feeling too comfortable, for this sort of thing was new to me, but admiring the cool

assurance with which he made his way through the crowd that swayed and yelled and swore and laughed in a

'Hello!' shouted Nixon as he caught sight of Graeme. 'Here you are!' passing him a bottle. 'You're a knocker, a

doublehanded front door knocker. You polished off old whiskysoak here, old demijohn,' pointing to

Slavin, 'and I'll lay five to one we can lick any blankety blank thieves in the crowd,' and he held up a roll of

But Graeme proposed that he should give the hornpipe again, and the floor was cleared at once, for Nixon's

hornpipe was very popular, and tonight, of course, was in high favour. In the midst of his dance Nixon

stopped short, his arms dropped to his side, his face had a look of fear, of horror.

There, before him, in his ridingcloak and boots, with his whip in his hand as he had come from his ride,

stood Mr. Craig. His face was pallid, and his dark eyes were blazing with fierce light. As Nixon stopped,

Craig stepped forward to him, and sweeping his eyes round upon the circle he said in tones intense with

'You cowards! You get a man where he's weak! Cowards! you'd damn his soul for his money!'

Then, turning to Nixon, and throwing his arm over his shoulder, he said in a voice broken and husky

Idaho made a motion as if to stop him, but Graeme stepped quickly foreword and said sharply, 'Make way

there, can't you?' and the crowd fell back and we four passed through, Nixon walking as in a dream, with

Craig's arm about him. Down the street we went in silence, and on to Craig's shack, where we found old man

Nelson, with the fire blazing, and strong coffee steaming on the stove. It was he that had told Craig, on his

There was nothing of reproach, but only gentlest pity, in tone and touch as Craig placed the halfdrunk,

dazed man in his easychair, took off his boots, brought him his own slippers, and gave him coffee. Then, as

his stupor began to overcome him, Craig put him in his own bed, and came forth with a face written over with

But Craig looked at him without a word, and, throwing himself into a chair, put his face in his hands. As we

sat there in silence the door was suddenly pushed open and in walked Abe Baker with the words, 'Where is

Nixon?' and we told him where he was. We were still talking when again a tap came to the door, and Shaw

It appeared that after the making of the League the Black Rock Hotel man had bet Idaho one hundred to fifty

that Nixon could not be got to drink before Easter. All Idaho's schemes had failed, and now he had only three

days in which to win his money, and the ball was his last chance. Here again he was balked, for Nixon,

resisting all entreaties, barred his shack door and went to bed before nightfall, according to his invariable

custom on paydays. At midnight some of Idaho's men came battering at the door for admission, which

Nixon reluctantly granted. For half an hour they used every art of persuasion to induce him to go down to the

ball, the glorious success of which was glowingly depicted; but Nixon remained immovable, and they took

their departure, baffled and cursing. In two hours they returned drunk enough to be dangerous, kicked at the

door in vain, finally gained entrance through the window, hauled Nixon out of bed, and, holding a glass of

whisky to his lips, bade him drink. But he knocked the glass sway, spilling the liquor over himself and the

It was drink or fight, and Nixon was ready to fight; but after parley they had a drink all round, and fell to

persuasion again. The night was cold, and poor Nixon sat shivering on the edge of his bed. If he would take

one drink they would leave him alone. He need not show himself so stiff. The whisky fumes filled his

nostrils. If one drink would get them off, surely that was better than fighting and killing some one or getting

killed. He hesitated, yielded, drank his glass. They sat about him amiably drinking, and lauding him as a fine

fellow after all. One more glass before they left. Then Nixon rose, dressed himself, drank all that was left of

the bottle, put his money in his pocket, and came down to the dance, wild with his oldtime madness,

reckless of faith and pledge, forgetful of home, wife, babies, his whole being absorbed in one great

Before Shaw had finished his tale, Craig's eyes were streaming with tears, and groans of rage and pity broke

alternately from him. Abe remained speechless for a time, not trusting himself; but as he heard Craig groan,

'Oh, the beasts! the fiends!' he seemed encouraged to let himself loose, and he began swearing with the

coolest and most bloodcurdling deliberation. Craig listened with evident approval, apparently finding

complete satisfaction in Abe's performance, when suddenly he seemed to waken up, caught Abe by the arm,

'Yes! yes! God forgive me! I am afraid it was,' he answered hurriedly; 'but I must not.'

'Oh, don't you worry,' went on Abe cheerfully; 'I'll look after that part; and anyway, ain't they the blankest

blankety blank' going off again into a roll of curses, till Craig, in an agony of entreaty, succeeded in

arresting the flow of profanity possible to no one but a mountain stagedriver. Abe paused looking hurt, and

'Well! so I reckoned,' replied Abe, recognising the limitations of the cloth; 'you ain't used to it, and you can't

be expected to do it; but it just makes me feel goodlet out o' school liketo properly do 'em up, the blank,

blank,' and off he went again. It was only under the pressure of Mr. Craig's prayers and commands that he

'Nothing,' answered Craig bitterly. He was exhausted with his long ride from the Landing, and broken with

bitter disappointment over the ruin of all that he had laboured so long to accomplish.

It was agreed that Craig should remain with Nixon while the others of us should gather up what fragments we

could find of the broken League. We had just opened the door, when we met a man striding up at a great

'Hae ye seen the lad?' was his salutation. No one replied. So I told Geordie of my last sight of Billy in the

'An' did ye no' gang aifter him?' he asked in indignant surprise, adding with some contempt, 'Man! but ye're a

Poor Craig stood in a dumb agony. Billy's fall seemed more than he could bear. We went out, leaving him

As we stood outside of Craig's shack in the dim starlight, we could not hide from ourselves that we were

beaten. It was not so much grief as a blind fury that filled my heart, and looking at the faces of the men about

me I read the same feeling there. But what could we do? The yells of carousing miners down at Slavin's told

us that nothing could be done with them that night. To be so utterly beaten, and unfairly, and with no chance

'I've got it, men,' said Graeme suddenly. 'This town does not require all the whisky there is in it'; and he

unfolded his plan. It was to gain possession of Slavin's saloon and the bar of the Black Rock Hotel, and clear

out all the liquor to be found in both these places. I did not much like the idea; and Geordie said, 'I'm ga'en

aifter the lad; I'll hae naethin' tae dae wi' yon. It's' no' that easy, an' it's a sinfu' waste.'

But Abe was wild to try it, and Shaw was quite willing, while old Nelson sternly approved.

'Nelson, you and Shaw get a couple of our men and attend to the saloon. Slavin and the whole gang are up at

the Black Rock, so you won't have much trouble; but come to us as soon as you can.'

Then followed a scene the like of which I can never hope to see again, and it was worth a man's seeing. But

there were times that night when I wished I had not agreed to follow Graeme in his plot. As we went up to the

'Law!' he replied indignantly. 'They haven't troubled much about law in the whisky business here. They get a

keg of high wines and some drugs and begin operations. No!' he went on; 'if we can get the crowd out, and

ourselves in, we'll make them break the law in getting us out. The law won't trouble us over smuggled

I did not like the undertaking at first; but as I thought of the whole wretched illegal business flourishing upon

the weakness of the men in the mines and camps, whom I had learned to regard as brothers, and especially as

I thought of the cowards that did for Nixon, I let my scruples go, and determined, with Abe, 'to get back at

We had no difficulty getting them out. Abe began to yell. Some men rushed out to learn the cause. He seized

the foremost man, making a hideous uproar all the while, and in three minutes had every man out of the hotel

In two minutes more Graeme and I had the door to the ballroom locked and barricaded with empty casks.

We then closed the door of the barroom leading to the outside. The barroom was a strongly built

logshack, with a heavy door secured, after the manner of the early cabins, with two strong oak bars, so that

The ballroom we could not hold long, for the door was slight and entrance was possible through the

windows. But as only a few casks of liquor were left there, our main work would be in the bar, so that the

fight would be to hold the passageway. This we barricaded with casks and tables. But by this time the crowd

had begun to realise what had happened, and were wildly yelling at door and windows. With an axe which

Graeme had brought with him the casks were soon stove in, and left to empty themselves.

As I was about to empty the last cask, Graeme stopped me, saying, 'Let that stand here. It will help us.' And

so it did. 'Now skip for the barricade,' yelled Graeme, as a man came crashing through the window. Before he

could regain his feet, however, Graeme had seized him and flung him out upon the heads of the crowd

outside. But through the other windows men were coming in, and Graeme rushed for the barricade, followed

by two of the enemy, the foremost of whom I received at the top and hurled back upon the others.

'Now, be quick!' said Graeme; 'I'll hold this. Don't break any bottles on the floorthrow them out there,'

I made all haste. The casks did not take much time, and soon the whisky and beer were flowing over the

floor. It made me think of Geordie's regret over the 'sinfu' waste.' The bottles took longer, and glancing up

now and then I saw that Graeme was being hard pressed. Men would leap, two and three at a time, upon the

barricade, and Graeme's arms would shoot out, and over they would topple upon the heads of those nearest. It

was a great sight to see him standing alone with a smile on his face and the light of battle in his eye, coolly

meeting his assailants with those terrific, lightninglike blows. In fifteen minutes my work was done.

'We'll have to make a dash for it, I fancy,' he replied cheerfully, though his face was covered with blood and

'Get down the bars and be ready.' But even as he spoke a chair hurled from below caught him on the arm, and

before he could recover, a man had cleared the barricade and was upon him like a tiger. It was Idaho Jack.

I sprang to his place, but I had not much hope of holding it long. I had the heavy oak bar of the door in my

hands, and swinging it round my head I made the crowd give back for a few moments.

Meantime Graeme had shaken off his enemy, who was circling about him upon his tiptoes, with a long knife

'Yes,' replied Graeme, 'ever since I spoiled your cutthroat game in 'Frisco. How is the little one?' he added

Idaho's face lost its smile and became distorted with fury as he replied, spitting out his words,

'Ah! you murdered her too! You'll hang some beautiful day, Idaho,' said Graeme, as Idaho sprang upon him.

Graeme dodged his blow and caught his forearm with his left hand and held up high the murderous knife.

Back and forward they swayed over the floor, slippery with whisky, the knife held high in the air. I wondered

why Graeme did not strike, and then I saw his right hand hung limp from the wrist. The men were crowding

upon the barricade. I was in despair. Graeme's strength was going fast. With a yell of exultant fury Idaho

threw himself with all his weight upon Graeme, who could only cling to him. They swayed together towards

me, but as they fell I brought down my bar upon the upraised hand and sent the knife flying across the room.

Idaho's howl of rage and pain was mingled with a shout from below, and there, dashing the crowd right and

left, came old Nelson, followed by Abe, Sandy, Baptiste, Shaw, and others. As they reached the barricade it

Looking out between the barrels, I saw what froze my heart with horror. In the fall Graeme had wound his

arms about his enemy and held him in a grip so deadly that he could not strike; but Graeme's strength was

failing, and when I looked I saw that Idaho was slowly dragging both across the slippery floor to where the

knife lay. Nearer and nearer his outstretched fingers came to the knife. In vain I yelled and struggled. My

voice was lost in the awful din, and the barricade held me fast. Above me, standing on a barrel head, was

Baptiste, yelling like a demon. In vain I called to him. My fingers could just reach his foot, and he heeded not

at all my touch. Slowly Idaho was dragging his almost unconscious victim toward the knife. His fingers were

touching the blade point, when, under a sudden inspiration, I pulled out my penknife, opened it with my

teeth, and drove the blade into Baptiste's foot. With a bloodcurdling yell he sprang down and began dancing

'Look! look!' I was calling in agony, and pointing; 'for heaven's sake, look! Baptiste!'

The fingers had closed upon the knife, the knife was already high in the air, when, with a shriek, Baptiste

cleared the room at a bound, and, before the knife could fall, the little Frenchman's boot had caught the

Then there was a great rushing sound as of wind through the forest, and the lights went out. When I awoke, I

found myself lying with my head on Graeme's knees, and Baptiste sprinkling snow on my face. As I looked

'Good boy! It was a great fight, and we put it up well'; and then he whispered, 'I owe you my life, my boy.'

His words thrilled my heart through and through, for I loved him as only men can love men; but I only

'It was well done,' he said; and I felt proud. I confess I was thankful to be so well out of it, for Graeme got off

with a bone in his wrist broken, and I with a couple of ribs cracked; but had it not been for the open barrel of

whisky which kept them occupied for a time, offering too good a chance to be lost, and for the timely arrival

We found Craig sound asleep upon his couch. His consternation on waking to see us torn, bruised, and

bloody was laughable; but he hastened to find us warm water and bandages, and we soon felt comfortable.

Baptiste was radiant with pride and light over the fight, and hovered about Graeme and me giving vent to his

feelings in admiring French and English expletives. But Abe was disgusted because of the failure at Slavin's;

for when Nelson looked in, he saw Slavin's FrenchCanadian wife in charge, with her baby on her lap, and he

came back to Shaw and said, 'Come away, we can't touch this'; and Shaw, after looking in, agreed that

As Craig listened to the account of the fight, he tried hard not to approve, but he could not keep the gleam out

of his eyes; and as I pictured Graeme dashing back the crowd thronging the barricade till he was brought

down by the chair, Craig laughed gently, and put his hand on Graeme's knee. And as I went on to describe my

agony while Idaho's fingers were gradually nearing the knife, his face grew pale and his eyes grew wide with

'Baptiste here did the business,' I said, and the little Frenchman nodded complacently and said

'He's fussrate. Dat's what you callone bite ofofdat leel bees, he's dere, you put your finger dere, he's

'Oui! Dat's mak' me ver mad. I jump an' swear mos' awful bad. Dat's pardon me, M'sieu Craig, heh?'

But Craig only smiled at him rather sadly. 'It was awfully risky,' he said to Graeme, 'and it was hardly worth

'Well,' said Graeme with a sigh of satisfaction, 'it is not quite such a onesided affair as it was.'

And we could say nothing in reply, for we could hear Nixon snoring in the next room, and no one had heard

of Billy, and there were others of the League that we knew were even now down at Slavin's. It was thought

best that all should remain in Mr. Craig's shack, not knowing what might happen; and so we lay where we

When I awoke, stiff and sore, it was to find breakfast ready and old man Nelson in charge. As we were

seated, Craig came in, and I saw that he was not the man of the night before. His courage had come back, his

'Geordie has been out all night, but has failed to find Billy,' he announced quietly.

We did not talk much; Graeme and I worried with our broken bones, and the others suffered from a general

morning depression. But, after breakfast, as the men were beginning to move, Craig took down his Bible, and

'Wait a few minutes, men!' he read slowly, in his beautiful clear voice, that psalm for all fighters

How the mighty words pulled us together, lifted us till we grew ashamed of our ignoble rage and of our

And then Craig prayed in simple, straightgoing words. There was acknowledgement of failure, but I knew

he was thinking chiefly of himself; and there was gratitude, and that was for the men about him, and I felt my

face burn with shame; and there was petition for help, and we all thought of Nixon, and Billy, and the men

wakening from their debauch at Slavin's this pure, bright morning. And then he asked that we might be made

faithful and worthy of God, whose battle it was. Then we all stood up and shook hands with him in silence,

and every man knew a covenant was being made. But none saw his meeting with Nixon. He sent us all away

Nothing was heard of the destruction of the hotel stockintrade. Unpleasant questions would certainly be

asked, and the proprietor decided to let bad alone. On the point of respectability the success of the ball was

Billy Breen was found by Geordie late in the afternoon in his own old and deserted shack, breathing heavily,

covered up in his filthy, mouldering bedclothes, with a halfempty bottle of whisky at his side. Geordie's

grief and rage were beyond even his Scotch control. He spoke few words, but these were of such

concentrated vehemence that no one felt the need of Abe's assistance in vocabulary.

Poor Billy! We carried him to Mrs. Mavor's home; put him in a warm bath, rolled him in blankets, and gave

him little sips of hot water, then of hot milk and coffee; as I had seen a clever doctor in the hospital treat a

similar case of nerve and heart depression. But the already weakened system could not recover from the

awful shock of the exposure following the debauch; and on Sunday afternoon we saw that his heart was

failing fast. All day the miners had been dropping in to inquire after him, for Billy had been a great favourite

in other days, and the attention of the town had been admiringly centred upon his fight of these last weeks. It

was with no ordinary sorrow that the news of his condition was received. As Mrs. Mavor sang to him, his

large coarse hands moved in time to the music, but he did not open his eyes till he heard Mr. Craig's voice in

the next room; then he spoke his name, and Mr. Craig was kneeling beside him in a moment. The words came

'Oi triedto fight it houtbutoi got beaten. Hit 'urts to think 'E's hashamed o' me. Oi'd like t'a done

'An'ye hall'elped me so!' he went on. 'Oi wish oi'd 'a done betteroi do,' and his eyes sought Geordie,

and then rested on Mrs. Mavor, who smiled back at him with a world of love in her eyes.

'No, Billy,' she said, and I wondered at her steady voice, 'not a bit. Why, Billy, I am proud of you.'

He gazed up at her with wonder and ineffable love in his little eyes, then lifted his hand slightly toward her.

'Oi haught t'a done better. Oi'm hawful sorry oi went back on 'Im. Hit was the lemonaide. The boys didn't

'Don't be 'ard on 'em, Geordie; they didn't mean no 'arm,' he said, and his eyes kept waiting till Geordie said

Then Mrs. Mavor sang softly, smoothing his hand, 'Just as I am,' and Billy dozed quietly for half an hour.

When he awoke again his eyes turned to Mr. Craig, and they were troubled and anxious.

'Oi tried 'ard. Oi wanted to win,' he struggled to say. By this time Craig was master of himself, and he

'Listen, Billy! You made a great fight, and you are going to win yet. And besides, do you remember the sheep

that got lost over the mountains?'this parable was Billy's special delight'He didn't beat it when He got it,

'Why, yes, Billy,' she answered cheerily, though the tears were streaming from her eyes. 'I would, and He

He looked at her, smiled, and closed his eyes. I put my hand on his heart; it was fluttering feebly. Again a

'I shall take care of her, Billy,' said Mrs. Mavor, in a clear voice, and again Billy smiled. Then he turned his

eyes to Mr. Craig, and from him to Geordie, and at last to Mrs. Mavor, where they rested. She bent over and

'Yes, Billy!' she cried, gazing into his glazing eyes. He tried to lift her hand. She kissed him again. He drew

'Thank the blessed Saviour!' said Mr. Craig, reverently. 'He has taken him home.'

But Mrs. Mavor held the dead hand tight and sobbed out passionately, 'Oh, Billy, Billy! you helped me once

And Geordie, groaning, 'Ay, laddie, laddie,' passed out into the fading light of the early evening.

Next day no one went to work, for to all it seemed a sacred day. They carried him into the little church, and

there Mr. Craig spoke of his long, hard fight, and of his final victory; for he died without a fear, and with love

to the men who, not knowing, had been his death. And there was no bitterness in any heart, for Mr. Craig

read the story of the sheep, and told how gently He had taken Billy home; but, though no word was spoken, it

They laid him under the pines, beside Lewis Mavor; and the miners threw sprigs of evergreen into the open

grave. When Slavin, sobbing bitterly, brought his sprig, no one stopped him, though all thought it strange.

As we turned to leave the grave, the light from the evening sun came softly through the gap in the mountains,

and, filling the valley, touched the trees and the little mound beneath with glory. And I thought of that other

glory, which is brighter than the sun, and was not sorry that poor Billy's weary fight was over; and I could not

Billy Breen's legacy to the Black Rock mining camp was a new League, which was more than the old League

remade. The League was new in its spirit and in its methods. The impression made upon the camp by Billy

Breen's death was very remarkable, and I have never been quite able to account for it. The mood of the

community at the time was peculiarly susceptible. Billy was one of the oldest of the oldtimers. His decline

and fall had been a long process, and his struggle for life and manhood was striking enough to arrest the

attention and awaken the sympathy of the whole camp. We instinctively side with a man in his struggle for

freedom; for we feel that freedom is native to him and to us. The sudden collapse of the struggle stirred the

men with a deep pity for the beaten man, and a deep contempt for those who had tricked him to his doom.

But though the pity and the contempt remained, the gloom was relieved and the sense of defeat removed from

the men's minds by the transforming glory of Billy's last hour. Mr. Craig, reading of the tragedy of Billy's

death, transfigured defeat into victory, and this was generally accepted by the men as the true reading, though

to them it was full of mystery. But they could all understand and appreciate at full value the spirit that

breathed through the words of the dying man: 'Don't be 'ard on 'em, they didn't mean no 'arm.' And this was

It was this spirit that surprised Slavin into sudden tears at the grave's side. He had come braced for curses and

vengeance, for all knew it was he who had doctored Billy's lemonade, and instead of vengeance the message

from the dead that echoed through the voice of the living was one of pity and forgiveness.

But the days of the League's negative, defensive warfare were over. The fight was to the death, and now the

war was to be carried into the enemy's country. The League men proposed a thoroughly equipped and

wellconducted coffeeroom, readingroom, and hall, to parallel the enemy's lines of operation, and defeat

them with their own weapons upon their own ground. The main outlines of the scheme were clearly defined

and were easily seen, but the perfecting of the details called for all Craig's tact and good sense. When, for

instance, Vernon Winton, who had charge of the entertainment department, came for Craig's opinion as to a

'Depends upon the niggers,' replied Craig with a gravely comic look, shrewdly adding, 'ask Mrs. Mavor'; and

so the League Minstrel and Dramatic Company became an established fact, and proved, as Craig afterwards

Shaw had charge of the social department, whose special care it was to see that the men were made welcome

to the cosy, cheerful reading room, where they might chat, smoke, read, write, or play games, according to

But Craig felt that the success or failure of the scheme would largely depend upon the character of the

Resident Manager, who, while caring for readingroom and hall, would control and operate the important

'At this point the whole business may come to grief,' he said to Mrs. Mavor, without whose counsel nothing

'Because if we don't get the right man, that's what will happen,' he replied in a tone that spoke of anxious

'But we shall get the right man, never fear.' Her serene courage never faltered. 'He will come to us.'

'Courage!' she answered quickly. 'It is not for you to say that'; and at his answering look the red came into her

cheek and the depths in her eyes glowed, and I marvelled and wondered, looking at Craig's cool face, whether

his blood were running evenly through his veins. But his voice was quiet, a shade too quiet I thought, as he

And so the League waited for the man to come, who was to be Resident Manager and make the new

enterprise a success. And come he did; but the manner of his coming was so extraordinary, that I have

believed in the doctrine of a special providence ever since; for as Craig said, 'If he had come straight from

While the League was thus waiting, its interest centred upon Slavin, chiefly because he represented more than

any other the forces of the enemy; and though Billy Breen stood between him and the vengeance of the angry

men who would have made short work of him and his saloon, nothing could save him from himself, and after

the funeral Slavin went to his bar and drank whisky as he had never drunk before. But the more he drank the

fiercer and gloomier he became, and when the men drinking with him chaffed him, he swore deeply and with

It did not help Slavin either to have Nixon stride in through the crowd drinking at his bar and give him words

'It is not your fault, Slavin,' he said in slow, cool voice, 'that you and your precious crew didn't sent me to my

death, too. You've won your bet, but I want to say, that next time, though you are seven to one, or ten times

that, when any of you boys offer me a drink I'll take you to mean fight, and I'll not disappoint you, and some

one will be killed,' and so saying he strode out again, leaving a meanlooking crowd of men behind him. All

who had not been concerned in the business at Nixon's shack expressed approval of his position, and hoped

But the impression of Nixon's words upon Slavin was as nothing compared with that made by Geordie

Crawford. It was not what he said so much as the manner of awful solemnity he carried. Geordie was

struggling conscientiously to keep his promise to 'not be 'ard on the boys,' and found considerable relief in

remembering that he had agreed 'to leave them tae the Almichty.' But the manner of leaving them was so

solemnly awful, that I could not wonder that Slavin's superstitious Irish nature supplied him with supernatural

terrors. It was the second day after the funeral that Geordie and I were walking towards Slavin's. There was a

Geordie stopped short, and saying, 'We'll juist gang in a meenute,' passed through the crowd and up to the

'Michael Slavin,' began Geordie, and the men stared in dead, silence, with their glasses in their hands.

'Michael Slavin, a' promised the lad a'd bear ye nae ill wull, but juist leave ye tae the Almichty; an' I want tae

tell ye that a'm keepin' ma wurrd. But'and here he raised his hand, and his voice became preternaturally

His voice rose sharply, and as he pointed, Slavin instinctively glanced at his hands, and Geordie added

They told me that Slavin shivered as if taken with ague after Geordie went out, and though he laughed and

swore, he did not stop drinking till he sank into a drunken stupor and had to be carried to bed. His little

FrenchCanadian wife could not understand the change that had come over her husband.

'He's like one bear,' she confided to Mrs. Mavor, to whom she was showing her baby of a year old. 'He's not

kees me one tam dis day. He's mos hawful bad, he's not even look at de baby.' And this seemed sufficient

'He's tink more for dat leel baby dan for de whole worl'; he's tink more for dat baby dan for me,' but she

'Ah! madame!' she replied earnestly, 'every day, every day, I pray la sainte Vierge et tous les saints for him.'

'Ah! oui! I weel pray,' and Mrs. Mavor sent her away bright with smiles, and with new hope and courage in

She had very soon need of all her courage, for at the week's end her baby fell dangerously ill. Slavin's anxiety

and fear were not relieved much by the reports the men brought him from time to time of Geordie's ominous

forebodings; for Geordie had no doubt but that the Avenger of Blood was hot upon Slavin's trail; and as the

sickness grew, he became confirmed in this conviction. While he could not be said to find satisfaction in

Slavin's impending affliction, he could hardly hide his complacency in the promptness of Providence in

But Geordie's complacency was somewhat rudely shocked by Mr. Craig's answer to his theory one day.

'You read your Bible to little profit, it seems to me, Geordie: or, perhaps, you have never read the Master's

teaching about the Tower of Siloam. Better read that and take that warning to yourself.'

'The toor o' Siloam, is it? Ay, a' ken fine aboot the toor o' Siloam, and aboot the toor o' Babel as weel; an' a've

read, too, about the blaspheemious Herod, an' sic like. Man, but he's a hot heided laddie, and lacks

'Aboot Herod?'with a strong tinge of contempt in his tone. 'Aboot Herod? Man, hae ye no' read in the

'Ay, a fule can see what's flapped in his face,' with which bit of proverbial philosophy he suddenly left me.

But Geordie thenceforth contented himself, in Mr. Craig's presence at least, with ominous headshakings,

That same night, however, Geordie showed that with all his theories he had a man's true heart, for he came in

'Na, na,' replied Geordie cautiously, 'a'll no gang where a'm no wanted. But yon puir thing, ye can hear

'She'll maybe need ye tae,' he went on dubiously to me. 'Ye're a kind o' doctor, a' hear,' not committing

himself to any opinion as to my professional value. But Slavin would have none of me, having got the doctor

The interest of the camp in Slavin was greatly increased by the illness of his baby, which was to him as the

apple of his eye. There were a few who, impressed by Geordie's profound convictions upon the matter, were

inclined to favour the retribution theory, and connect the baby's illness with the vengeance of the Almighty.

Among these few was Slavin himself, and goaded by his remorseful terrors he sought relief in drink. But this

brought him only deeper and fiercer gloom; so that between her suffering child and her savagely despairing

'Ah! madame,' she sobbed to Mrs. Mavor, 'my heart is broke for him. He's heet noting for tree days, but jis

The next day a man came for me in haste. The baby was dying and the doctor was drunk. I found the little

one in a convulsion lying across Mrs. Mavor's knees, the mother kneeling beside it, wringing her hands in a

dumb agony, and Slavin standing near, silent and suffering. I glanced at the bottle of medicine upon the table

and asked Mrs. Mavor the dose, and found the baby had been poisoned. My look of horror told Slavin

I tried to put him off, but his grip tightened till his fingers seemed to reach the bone.

He let me go at once, saying in a voice that made my heart sore for him, 'He has killed my baby; he has killed

my baby.' And then he cursed the doctor with awful curses, and with a look of such murderous fury on his

His wife hearing his curses, and understanding the cause, broke out into wailing hard to bear.

'Ah! mon petit ange! It is dat wheeskey dat's keel mon baby. Ah! mon cheri, mon amour. Ah! mon Dieu! Ah,

It was more than Slavin could bear, and with awful curses he passed out. Mrs. Mavor laid the baby in its crib,

for the convulsion had passed away; and putting her arms about the wailing little Frenchwoman, comforted

'And you must help your husband,' I heard her say. 'He will need you more than ever. Think of him.'

'Ah oui! I weel,' was the quick reply, and from that moment there was no more wailing.

It seemed no more than a minute till Slavin came in again, sober, quiet, and steady; the passion was all gone

As we stood leaning over the sleeping child the little thing opened its eyes, saw its father, and smiled. It was

'Is there no chance at all, at all?' he whispered, but I could give him no hope. He immediately rose, and

'My baby is notwhat you call it?' going through the form of baptism. 'An' he will not come to la sainte

'Do not fear for your little one,' said Mrs. Mavor, still with her arms about her. 'The good Saviour will take

'Ah! you were not good to the holy pere de las tam, Michael,' she replied sadly. 'The saints are not please for

'I'll go for him,' he said. But his wife clung to him, beseeching him not to leave her, and indeed he was loth to

I found Craig and told him the difficulty. With his usual promptness, he was ready with a solution.

'Nixon has a team. He will go.' Then he added, 'I wonder if they would not like me to baptize their little one.

Father Goulet and I have exchanged offices before now. I remember how he came to one of my people in my

absence, when she was dying, read with her, prayed with her, comforted her, and helped her across the river.

He is a good soul, and has no nonsense about him. Send for me if you think there is need. It will make no

Nixon was willing enough to go; but when he came to the door Mrs. Mavor saw the hard look in his face. He

had not forgotten his wrong, for day by day he was still fighting the devil within that Slavin had called to life.

But Mrs. Mavor, under cover of getting him instructions, drew him into the room. While listening to her, his

eyes wandered from one to the other of the group till they rested upon the little white face in the crib. She

'They fear the little one will never see the Saviour if it is not baptized,' she said, in a low tone.

'I'll do my best to get the priest,' he said, and was gone on his sixty miles' race with death.

The long afternoon wore on, but before it was half gone I saw Nixon could not win, and that the priest would

be too late, so I sent for Mr. Craig. From the moment he entered the room he took command of us all. He was

so simple, so manly, so tender, the hearts of the parents instinctively turned to him.

As he was about to proceed with the baptism, the mother whispered to Mrs. Mavor, who hesitatingly asked

And so the child was baptized by the Presbyterian minister with holy water and with the sign of the cross. I

don't suppose it was orthodox, and it rendered chaotic some of my religious notions, but I thought more of

Craig that moment than ever before. He was more man than minister, or perhaps he was so good a minister

that day because so much a man. As he read about the Saviour and the children and the disciples who tried to

get in between them, and as he told us the story in his own simple and beautiful way, and then went on to

picture the home of the little children, and the same Saviour in the midst of them, I felt my heart grow warm,

'Ah, Michael, you must pray le bon Jesu. He's garde notre mignon.' And then she bent over the babe,

'Ah, mon cheri, mon amour, adieu! adieu! mon ange!' till Slavin put his arms about her and took her away, for

as she was whispering her farewells, her baby, with a little answering sigh, passed into the House with many

'Whisht, Annette darlin'; don't cry for the baby,' said her husband. 'Shure it's better off than the rest av us, it is.

An' didn't ye hear what the minister said about the beautiful place it is? An' shure he wouldn't lie to us at all.'

An hour later Nixon brought Father Goulet. He was a little Frenchman with gentle manners and the face of a

'That is good, my brother,' he said, with gentle courtesy, and, turning to the mother, 'Your little one is safe.'

Behind Father Goulet came Nixon softly, and gazed down upon the little quiet face, beautiful with the magic

of death. Slavin came quietly and stood beside him. Nixon turned and offered his hand. But Slavin said,

'Don't say a word, Slavin,' answered Nixon, hurriedly. 'I know how you feel. I've got a baby too. I want to see

'As God's above,' replied Slavin earnestly, 'I'll hinder ye no more.' They shook hands, and we passed out.

We laid the baby under the pines, not far from Billy Breen, and the sweet spring wind blew through the Gap,

and came softly down the valley, whispering to the pines and the grass and the hiding flowers of the New

Life coming to the world. And the mother must have heard the whisper in her heart, for, as the Priest was

saying the words of the Service, she stood with Mrs. Mavor's arms about her, and her eyes were looking far

away beyond the purple mountain tops, seeing what made her smile. And Slavin, too, looked different. His

very features seemed finer. The coarseness was gone out of his face. What had come to him I could not tell.

But when the doctor came into Slavin's house that night it was the old Slavin I saw, but with a look of such

deadly fury on his face that I tried to get the doctor out at once. But he was half drunk and after his manner

'How do, ladies! How do, gentlemen!' was his loudvoiced salutation. 'Quite a professional gathering, clergy

predominating. Lion and Lamb too, ha! ha! which is the lamb, eh? ha! ha! very good! awfully sorry to hear of

Before any one could move, Craig was at his side, and saying in a clear, firm voice, 'One moment, doctor,'

caught him by the arm and had him out of the room before he knew it. Slavin, who had been crouching in his

chair with hands twitching and eyes glaring, rose and followed, still crouching as he walked. I hurried after

him, calling him back. Turning at my voice, the doctor saw Slavin approaching. There was something so

terrifying in his swift noiseless crouching motion, that the doctor, crying out in fear 'Keep him off,' fairly

turned and fled. He was too late. Like a tiger Slavin leaped upon him and without waiting to strike had him

by the throat with both hands, and bearing him to the ground, worried him there as a dog might a cat.

Immediately Craig and I were upon him, but though we lifted him clear off the ground we could not loosen

that twohanded strangling grip. At we were struggling there a light hand touched my shoulder. It was Father

'Please let him go, and stand away from us,' he said, waving us back. We obeyed. He leaned over Slavin and

spoke a few words to him. Slavin started as if struck a heavy blow, looked up at the priest with fear in his

'Let him go,' said the priest. Slavin hesitated. 'Let him go! quick!' said the priest again, and Slavin with a snarl

'What would you do?' His voice was gentle enough, even sweet, but there was something in it that chilled my

'Ah! who gave him drink? Who made him a drunkard two years ago? Who has wrecked his life?'

Slavin turned his eyes upon the motionless figure on the ground and then upon the priest. Father Goulet took

one step towards him, and, stretching out his hand and pointing with his finger, said

And Slavin slowly backed away and went into his house. It was an extraordinary scene, and it is often with

me now: the dark figure on the ground, the slight erect form of the priest with outstretched arm and finger,

It was a near thing for the doctor, however, and two minutes more of that grip would have done for him. As it

What the priest did with Slavin after getting him inside I know not; that has always been a mystery to me. But

when we were passing the saloon that night after taking Mrs. Mavor home, we saw a light and heard strange

sounds within. Entering, we found another whisky raid in progress, Slavin himself being the raider. We stood

some moments watching him knocking in the heads of casks and emptying bottles. I thought he had gone

He paused in his strange work, and I saw that his face, though resolute, was quiet enough.

'It means I'm done wid the business, I am,' he said, in a determined voice. 'I'll help no more to kill any man,

'Thank God, Slavin!' said Craig, offering his hand; 'you are much too good a man for the business.'

'You are throwing away good money, Slavin,' I said, as the head of a cask crashed in.

'It's meself that knows it, for the price of whisky has riz in town this week,' he answered, giving me a look out

of the corner of his eye. 'Bedad! it was a rare clever job,' referring to our Black Rock Hotel affair.

'Beloike I will; an' that's why I'm doin' it before I'm sorry for it,' he replied, with a delightful bull.

'Look here, Slavin,' said Craig earnestly; 'if I can be of use to you in any way, count on me.'

'It's good to me the both of yez have been, an' I'll not forget it to yez,' he replied, with like earnestness.

As we told Mrs. Mavor that night, for Craig thought it too good to keep, her eyes seemed to grow deeper and

the light in them to glow more intense as she listened to Craig pouring out his tale. Then she gave him her

'No more did he, nor any of us.' Then, after a pause, she added gently, 'He has been sent to us?'

'Do you know, I believe you are right,' Craig said slowly, and then added, 'But you always are.'

The whole town was astounded next morning when Slavin went to work in the mines, and its astonishment

only deepened as the days went on, and he stuck to his work. Before three weeks had gone the League had

The evening of the reopening of Slavin's saloon, as it was still called, was long remembered in Black Rock. It

was the occasion of the first appearance of 'The League Minstrel and Dramatic Troupe,' in what was

described as a 'hairlifting tragedy with appropriate musical selections.' Then there was a grand supper and

speeches and great enthusiasm, which reached its climax when Nixon rose to propose the toast of the

evening'Our Saloon.' His speech was simply a quiet, manly account of his long struggle with the deadly

'And while I am blaming no one but myself, I am glad tonight that this saloon is on our side, for my own

sake and for the sake of those who have been waiting long to see me. But before I sit down I want to say that

while I live I shall not forget that I owe my life to the man that took me that night to his own shack and put

me in his own bed, and met me next morning with an open hand; for I tell you I had sworn to God that that

Geordie's speech was characteristic. After a brief reference to the 'mysteerious ways o' Providence,' which he

acknowledged he might sometimes fail to understand, he went on to express his unqualified approval of the

'It's a cosy place, an' there's nae sulphur aboot. Besides a' that,' he went on enthusiastically, 'it'll be a terrible

'I've juist been coontin',' went on Geordie, ignoring the remark and the laugh which followed, 'an' it's an

awfu'like money ye pit ower wi' the whusky. Ye see ye canna dae wi' ane bit glass; ye maun hae twa or

three at the verra least, for it's no verra forrit ye get wi' ane glass. But wi' yon coffee ye juist get a saxpence

'I dinna see the jowk, but I've slippit ower in whusky mair nor a hunner dollars.'

Then he paused, looking hard before him, and twisting his face into extraordinary shapes till the men looked

'I'm rale glad o' this saloon, but it's ower late for the lad that canna be helpit the noo. He'll not be needin' help

o' oors, I doot, but there are ithers'and he stopped abruptly and sat down, with no applause following.

But when Slavin, our saloonkeeper, rose to reply, the men jumped up on the seats and yelled till they could

yell no more. Slavin stood, evidently in trouble with himself, and finally broke out

'It's spacheless I am entirely. What's come to me I know not, nor how it's come. But I'll do my best for yez.'

I did not yell myself. I was too busy watching the varying lights in Mrs. Mavor's eyes as she looked from

Craig to the yelling men on the benches and tables, and then to Slavin, and I found myself wondering if she

With the call to Mr. Craig I fancy I had something to do myself. The call came from a young congregation in

an eastern city, and was based partly upon his college record and more upon the advice of those among the

authorities who knew his work in the mountains. But I flatter myself that my letters to friends who were of

importance in that congregation were not without influence, for I was of the mind that the man who could

handle Black Rock miners as he could was ready for something larger than a mountain mission. That he

would refuse I had not imagined, though I ought to have known him better. He was but little troubled over it.

He went with the call and the letters urging his acceptance to Mrs. Mavor. I was putting the last touches to

some of my work in the room at the back of Mrs. Mavor's house when he came in. She read the letters and

She started, and grew a little pale. His question suggested a possibility that had not occurred to her. That he

could leave his work in Black Rock she had hitherto never imagined; but there was other work, and he was fit

for good work anywhere. Why should he not go? I saw the fear in her face, but I saw more than fear in her

eyes, as for a moment or two she let them rest upon Craig's face. I read her story, and I was not sorry for

either of them. But she was too much a woman to show her heart easily to the man she loved, and her voice

'One of the finest in all the East,' I put in for him. 'It will be a great thing for Craig.'

Craig was studying her curiously. I think she noticed his eyes upon her, for she went on even more quietly

'It will be a great chance for work, and you are able for a larger sphere, you know, than poor Black Rock

'Let some other fellow have a try at it,' I said. 'Why should you waste your talents here?'

'Oh,' said Mrs. Mavor, 'you will be a great man I know, and perhaps you ought to go now.'

But he answered coolly: 'There are fifty men wanting that Eastern charge, and there is only one wanting

Black Rock, and I don't think Black Rock is anxious for a change, so I have determined to stay where I am

Even my deep disgust and disappointment did not prevent me from seeing the sudden leap of joy in Mrs.

Nothing could change his mind. There was no one he knew who could take his place just now, and why

should he quit his work? It annoyed me considerably to feel he was right. Why is it that the right things are so

And if I had had any doubt about the matter next Sabbath evening would have removed it. For the men came

about him after the service and let him feel in their own way how much they approved his decision, though

the selfsacrifice involved did not appeal to them. They were too truly Western to imagine that any

inducements the East could offer could compensate for his loss of the West. It was only fitting that the West

should have the best, and so the miners took almost as a matter of course, and certainly as their right, that the

best man they knew should stay with them. But there were those who knew how much of what most men

Mrs. Mavor's call was not so easily disposed of. It came close upon the other, and stirred Black Rock as

I found her one afternoon gazing vacantly at some legal documents spread out before her on the table, and

evidently overcome by their contents. There was first a lawyer's letter informing her that by the death of her

husband's father she had come into the whole of the Mavor estates, and all the wealth pertaining thereto. The

letter asked for instructions, and urged an immediate return with a view to a personal superintendence of the

estates. A letter, too, from a distant cousin of her husband urged her immediate return for many reasons, but

chiefly on account of the old mother who had been left alone with none nearer of kin than himself to care for

With these two came another letter from her motherinlaw herself. The crabbed, trembling characters were

'I have lost my boy, and now my husband is gone, and I am a lonely woman. I have many servants, and some

friends, but none near to me, none so near and dear as my dead son's wife. My days are not to be many. Come

'I only saw her once or twice,' she answered; 'but she has been very good to me.'

'Ask any man in the campShaw, Nixon, young Winton, Geordie. Ask Craig,' I replied.

Even as she spoke Craig came up the steps. I passed into my studio and went on with my work, for my days

Through my open door I saw Mrs. Mavor lay her letters before Mr. Craig, saying, 'I have a call too.' They

He went through the papers, carefully laid them down without a word while she waited anxiously, almost

'I do not know,' he replied; 'that is for you to decideyou know all the circumstances.'

'The letters tell all.' Her tone carried a feeling of disappointment. He did not appear to care.

'She has friends, but, as she says, none near of kin. Her nephew looks after the worksiron works, you

'What shall I do?' she asked, and I knew she was waiting to hear him urge her to stay; but he did not see, or at

'I cannot say,' he repeated quietly. 'There are many things to consider; the estates'

'The estates seem to trouble you,' she replied, almost fretfully. He looked up in surprise. I wondered at his

'Yes, the estates,' he went on, 'and tenants, I supposeyour motherinlaw, your little Marjorie's future,

'The estates are in capable hands, I should suppose,' she urged, 'and my future depends upon what I choose

'But one cannot shift one's responsibilities,' he replied gravely. 'These estates, these tenants, have come to

'Great work,' he hastened to say. 'You have done great work. But you will do that wherever you go. The only

How he could resist that appeal I could not understand. His face was cold and hard, and his voice was almost

'I cannot go. I shall stay here. My work is here; my heart is here. How can I go? You thought it worth your

'Yes, yes!' she cried, her voice full of pain; 'you are needed, but there is no need of me.'

'I will say it, I must say it,' she cried, her voice vibrating with the intensity of her feeling. 'I know you do not

need me; you have your work, your miners, your plans; you need no one; you are strong. But,' and her voice

rose to a cry, 'I am not strong by myself; you have made me strong. I came here a foolish girl, foolish and

selfish and narrow. God sent me grief. Three years ago my heart died. Now I am living again. I am a woman

now, no longer a girl. You have done this for me. Your life, your words, yourselfyou have showed me a

He held himself resolutely in hand, answering carefully, but his voice had lost its coldness and was sweet and

'Have I done this for you? Then surely God has been good to me. And you have helped me more than any

'You can do without my help,' she went on. 'You make people help you. You will get many to help you; but I

need help, too.' She was standing before him with her hands tightly clasped; her face was pale, and her eyes

deeper than ever. He sat looking up at her in a kind of maze as she poured out her words hot and fast.

'I am not thinking of you.' His coldness had hurt her deeply. 'I am selfish; I am thinking of myself. How shall

I do? I have grown to depend on you, to look to you. It is nothing to you that I go, but to me' She did not

By this time Craig was standing before her, his face deadly pale. When she came to the end of her words, he

'Ah, if you only knew! Do not make me forget myself. You do not guess what you are doing.'

'What am I doing? What is there to know, but that you tell me easily to go? She was struggling with the tears

He put his hands resolutely behind him, looking at her as if studying her face for the first time. Under his

searching look she dropped her eyes, and the warm colour came slowly up into her neck and face; then, as if

with a sudden resolve, she lifted her eyes to his, and looked back at him unflinchingly.

He started, surprised, drew slowly near, put his hands upon her shoulders, surprise giving place to wild joy.

She never moved her eyes; they drew him towards her. He took her face between his hands, smiled into her

eyes, kissed her lips. She did not move; he stood back from her, threw up his head, and laughed aloud. She

came to him, put her head upon his breast, and lifting up her face said, 'Kiss me.' He put his arms about her,

bent down and kissed her lips again, and then reverently her brow. Then putting her back from him, but still

'I can go now'; but even as she spoke the flush died from her face, and she shuddered.

'Never!' he almost shouted; 'nothing shall take you away. We shall work here together.'

'You will send me away. You will say it is right for me to go,' she replied sadly.

'Yes!' she said sadly; 'love is the best, and it is for love's sake we will do the best.'

'There is no better work than here. Surely this is best,' and he pictured his plans before her. She listened

'Oh! if it should be right,' she cried, 'I will do what you say. You are good, you are wise, you shall tell me.'

She could not have recalled him better. He stood silent some moments, then burst out passionately

'Why then has love come to us? We did not seek it. Surely love is of God. Does God mock us?'

He threw himself into his chair, pouring out his words of passionate protestation. She listened, smiling, then

'Oh, I am very happy! I was afraid you would not care, and I could not bear to go that way.'

'You shall not go,' he cried aloud, as if in pain. 'Nothing can make that right.'

But she only said, 'You shall tell me tomorrow. You cannot see tonight, but you will see, and you will tell

He stood up and, holding both her hands, looked long into her eyes, then turned abruptly away and went out.

She stood where he left her for some moments, her face radiant, and her hands pressed upon her heart. Then

she came toward my room. She found me busy with my painting, but as I looked up and met her eyes she

Then I told her openly how, weeks ago, I struggled with my heart and mastered it, for I saw it was vain to

love her, because she loved a better man who loved her in return. She looked at me shyly and said

'Don't worry,' I said cheerfully. 'I didn't break my heart, you know; I stopped it in time.'

'Oh!' she said, slightly disappointed; then her lips began to twitch, and she went off into a fit of hysterical

'Fever is nothing to it,' I said solemnly. 'It was a near thing.' At which she went off again. I was glad to see

her laugh. It gave me time to recover my equilibrium, and it relieved her intense emotional strain. So I rattled

on some nonsense about Craig and myself till I saw she was giving no heed, but thinking her own thoughts:

'I hope he is no such fool,' I said emphatically and somewhat rudely, I fear; for I confess I was impatient with

the very possibility of separation for these two, to whom love meant so much. Some people take this sort of

thing easily and some not so easily; but love for a woman like this comes once only to a man, and then he

carries it with him through the length of his life, and warms his heart with it in death. And when a man smiles

or sneers at such love as this, I pity him, and say no word, for my speech would be in an unknown tongue. So

my heart was sore as I sat looking up at this woman who stood before me, overflowing with the joy of her

new love, and dully conscious of the coming pain. But I soon found it was vain to urge my opinion that she

should remain and share the work and life of the man she loved. She only answered

The quiver in her voice took out all the anger from my heart, and before I knew I had pledged myself to do all

But when I came upon him that night, sitting in the light of his fire, I saw he must be let alone. Some battles

we fight side by side, with comrades cheering us and being cheered to victory; but there are fights we may

not share, and these are deadly fights where lives are lost and won. So I could only lay my hand upon his

shoulder without a word. He looked up quickly, read my face, and said, with a groan

'Then you must think for her; you must bring some commonsense to bear upon the question.'

For an hour I talked; eloquently, even vehemently urging the reason and right of my opinion. She would be

doing no more than every woman does, no more than she did before; her motherinlaw had a comfortable

home, all that wealth could procure, good servants, and friends; the estates could be managed without her

personal supervision; after a few years' work here they would go east for little Majorie's education; why

'You make a good case,' he said, with a slight smile. 'I will take time. Perhaps you are right. The light will

come. Surely it will come. But,' and here he sprang up and stretched his arms to full length above his head, 'I

am not sorry; whatever comes I am not sorry. It is great to have her love, but greater to love her as I do.

Thank God! nothing can take that away. I am willing, glad to suffer for the joy of loving her.'

'MY DEAR CONNOR,I am due at the Landing. When I see you again I think my way will be clear. Now

all is dark. At times I am a coward, and often, as you sometimes kindly inform me, an ass; but I hope I may

I am willing to be led, or want to be, at any rate. I must do the bestnot second bestfor her, for me. The

best only is God's will. What else would you have? Be good to her these days, dear old fellow.Yours,

How often those words have braced me he will never know, but I am a better man for them: 'The best only is

God's will. What else would you have?' I resolved I would rage and fret no more, and that I would worry Mrs.

Mavor with no more argument or expostulation, but, as my friend had asked, 'Be good to her.'

Those days when we were waiting Craig's return we spent in the woods or on the mountain sides, or down in

the canyon beside the stream that danced down to meet the Black Rock river, I talking and sketching and

reading, and she listening and dreaming, with often a happy smile upon her face. But there were moments

when a cloud of shuddering fear would sweep the smile away, and then I would talk of Craig till the smile

But the woods and the mountains and the river were her best, her wisest, friends during those days. How

sweet the ministry of the woods to her! The trees were in their new summer leaves, fresh and full of life.

They swayed and rustled above us, flinging their interlacing shadows upon us, and their swaying and their

rustling soothed and comforted like the voice and touch of a mother. And the mountains, too, in all the glory

of their varying robes of blues and purples, stood calmly, solemnly about us, uplifting our souls into regions

of rest. The changing lights and shadows flitted swiftly over their rugged fronts, but left them ever as before

in their steadfast majesty. 'God's in His heaven.' What would you have? And ever the little river sang its

cheerful courage, fearing not the great mountains that threatened to bar its passage to the sea. Mrs. Mavor

But through these days I could not make her out, and I found myself studying her as I might a new

acquaintance. Years had fallen from her; she was a girl again, full of young warm life. She was as sweet as

before, but there was a soft shyness over her, a half shamed, halffrank consciousness in her face, a glad

light in her eyes that made her all new to me. Her perfect trust in Craig was touching to see.

'He will tell me what to do,' she would say, till I began to realise how impossible it would be for him to betray

So much did I dread Craig's homecoming, that I sent for Graeme and old man Nelson, who was more and

more Graeme's trusted counsellor and friend. They were both highly excited by the story I had to tell, for I

thought it best to tell them all; but I was not a little surprised and disgusted that they did not see the matter in

my light. In vain I protested against the madness of allowing anything to send these two from each other.

Graeme summed up the discussion in his own emphatic way, but with an earnestness in his words not usual

'Craig will know better than any of us what is right to do, and he will do that, and no man can turn him from

'It's a tremendous shame! They love each other. You are talking sentimental humbug and nonsense!'

'Look here,' I stormed; 'I didn't bring you men to back him up in his nonsense. I thought you could keep your

'Now, Connor,' said Graeme, 'don't rageleave that for the heathen; it's bad form, and useless besides. Craig

will walk his way where his light falls; and by all that's holy, I should hate to see him fail; for if he weakens

When after a week had gone, Craig rode up one early morning to his shack door, his face told me that he had

fought his fight and had not been beaten. He had ridden all night and was ready to drop with weariness.

'Connor, old boy,' he said, putting out his hand; 'I'm rather played. There was a bad row at the Landing. I have

just closed poor Colley's eyes. It was awful. I must get sleep. Look after Dandy, will you, like a good chap?'

'Oh, Dandy be hanged,!' I said, for I knew it was not the fight, nor the watching, nor the long ride that had

shaken his iron nerve and given him that face. 'Go in and lie down I'll bring you something.'

'Wake me in the afternoon,' he said; 'she is waiting. Perhaps you will go to her'his lips quivered'my

nerve is rather gone.' Then with a very wan smile he added, 'I am giving you a lot of trouble.'

'You go to thunder!' I burst out, for my throat was hot and sore with grief for him.

'I think I'd rather go to sleep,' he replied, still smiling. I could not speak, and was glad of the chance of being

When I came in I found him sitting with his head in his arms upon the table fast asleep. I made him tea,

forced him to take a warm bath, and sent him to bed, while I went to Mrs. Mavor. I went with a fearful heart,

She was standing in the light of the window waiting for me. Her face was pale but steady, there was a proud

light in her fathomless eyes, a slight smile parted her lips, and she carried her head like a queen.

'Come in,' she said. 'You need not fear to tell me. I saw him ride home. He has not failed, thank God! I am

proud of him; I knew he would be true. He loves me'she drew in her breath sharply, and a faint colour

tinged her cheek'but he knows love is not allah, love is not all! Oh! I am glad and proud!'

'You should not say so,' she replied, and her voice rang clear. 'Honour, faith, and duty are sentiments, but they

In spite of my rage I was lost in amazed admiration of the high spirit of the woman who stood up so straight

before me. But, as I told how worn and broken he was, she listened with changing colour and swelling

bosom, her proud courage all gone, and only love, anxious and pitying, in her eyes.

'I shall wait for him,' she said softly, and the tenderness in her tone went straight to my heart, and it seemed to

In the early afternoon Graeme came to her. She met him with both hands outstretched, saying in a low

They talked long together till I saw that Craig must soon be coming, and I called Graeme away. He held her

He bent his head over her hands and stepped back from her as from a queen, but he spoke no word till we

came to Craig's door. Then he said with humility that seemed strange in him, 'Connor, that is great, to

I would not have missed his meeting with Craig. Nelson was busy with tea. Craig was writing near the

window. He looked up as Graeme came in, and nodded an easy goodevening; but Graeme strode to him

After a moment's surprise, Craig rose to his feet, and, facing him squarely, took the offered hand in both of

his and held it fast without a word. Graeme was the first to speak, and his voice was deep with emotion

Poor Craig stood looking at him, not daring to speak for some moments, then he said quietly

'Good man!' went on Graeme, patting him on the shoulder. 'Good man! But it's tough.'

I went up with Craig to Mrs. Mavor's door. She did not hear us coming, but stood near the window gazing up

at the mountains. She was dressed in some rich soft stuff, and wore at her breast a bunch of wildflowers. I

had never seen her so beautiful. I did not wonder that Craig paused with his foot upon the threshold to look at

her. She turned and saw us. With a glad cry, 'Oh! my darling; you have come to me,' she came with

outstretched arms. I turned and fled, but the cry and the vision were long with me.

It was decided that night that Mrs. Mavor should go the next week. A miner and his wife were going east, and

The camp went into mourning at the news; but it was understood that any display of grief before Mrs. Mavor

But when I suggested that she should leave quietly, and avoid the pain of saying goodbye, she flatly

It was decided, too, at first, that there should be nothing in the way of a testimonial, but when Craig found out

that the men were coming to her with all sorts of extraordinary gifts, he agreed that it would be better that

they should unite in one gift. So it was agreed that I should buy a ring for her. And were it not that the

contributions were strictly limited to one dollar, the purse that Slavin handed her when Shaw read the address

at the farewell supper would have been many times filled with the gold that was pressed upon the committee.

There were no speeches at the supper, except one by myself in reply on Mrs. Mavor's behalf. She had given

me the words to say, and I was thoroughly prepared, else I should not have got through. I began in the usual

way: 'Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Mavor is' but I got no further, for at the mention of her

name the men stood on the chairs and yelled until they could yell no more. There were over two hundred and

fifty of them, and the effect was overpowering. But I got through my speech. I remember it well. It began

'Mrs. Mavor is greatly touched by this mark of your love, and she will wear your ring always with pride.' And

'She has one request to make, that you will be true to the League, and that you stand close about the man who

did most to make it. She wishes me to say that however far away she may have to go, she is leaving her heart

in Black Rock, and she can think of no greater joy than to come back to you again.'

Then they had 'The Sweet By and By,' but the men would not join in the refrain, unwilling to lose a note of

the glorious voice they loved to hear. Before the last verse she beckoned to me. I went to her standing by

Craig's side as he played for her. 'Ask them to sing,' she entreated; 'I cannot bear it.'

'Mrs. Mavor wishes you to sing in the refrain,' I said, and at once the men sat up and cleared their throats. The

singing was not good, but at the first sound of the hoarse notes of the men Craig's head went down over the

organ, for he was thinking I suppose of the days before them when they would long in vain for that thrilling

voice that soared high over their own hoarse tones. And after the voices died away he kept on playing till,

half turning toward him, she sang alone once more the refrain in a voice low and sweet and tender, as if for

him alone. And so he took it, for he smiled up at her his old smile full of courage and full of love.

Then for one whole hour she stood saying goodbye to those rough, gentlehearted men whose inspiration to

goodness she had been for five years. It was very wonderful and very quiet. It was understood that there was

to be no nonsense, and Abe had been heard to declare that he would 'throw out any cottonbacked fool who

couldn't hold himself down,' and further, he had enjoined them to remember that 'her arm wasn't a

At last they were all gone, all but her guard of honourShaw, Vernon Winton, Geordie, Nixon, Abe,

This was the real farewell; for, though in the early light of the next morning two hundred men stood silent

about the stage, and then as it moved out waved their hats and yelled madly, this was the last touch they had

of her hand. Her place was up on the driver's seat between Abe and Mr. Craig, who held little Marjorie on his

knee. The rest of the guard of honour were to follow with Graeme's team. It was Winton's fine sense that kept

Graeme from following them close. 'Let her go out alone,' he said, and so we held back and watched her go.

She stood with her back towards Abe's plunging fourhorse team, and steadying herself with one hand on

Abe's shoulder, gazed down upon us. Her head was bare, her lips parted in a smile, her eyes glowing with

their own deep light; and so, facing us, erect and smiling, she drove away, waving us farewell till Abe swung

his team into the canyon road and we saw her no more. A sigh shuddered through the crowd, and, with a sob

I close my eyes and see it all again. The waving crowd of dark faced men, the plunging horses, and, high up

beside the driver, the swaying, smiling, waving figure, and about all the mountains, framing the picture with

their dark sides and white peaks tipped with the gold of the rising sun. It is a picture I love to look upon,

I look across a strip of everwidening water, at a group of men upon the wharf, standing with heads

uncovered, every man a hero, though not a man of them suspects it, least of all the man who stands in front,

strong, resolute, selfconquered. And, gazing long, I think I see him turn again to his place among the men of

the mountains, not forgetting, but every day remembering the great love that came to him, and remembering,

Through the long summer the mountains and the pines were with me. And through the winter, too, busy as I

was filling in my Black Rock sketches for the railway people who would still persist in ordering them by the

dozen, the memory of that stirring life would come over me, and once more I would be among the silent

pines and the mighty snowpeaked mountains. And before me would appear the redshirted shantymen or

darkfaced miners, great, free, bold fellows, driving me almost mad with the desire to seize and fix those

swiftly changing groups of picturesque figures. At such times I would drop my sketch, and with eager brush

seize a group, a face, a figure, and that is how my studio comes to be filled with the men of Black Rock.

There they are all about me. Graeme and the men from the woods, Sandy, Baptiste, the Campbells, and in

many attitudes and groups old man Nelson; Craig, too, and his miners, Shaw, Geordie, Nixon, and poor old

It seemed as if I lived among them, and the illusion was greatly helped by the vivid letters Graeme sent me

from time to time. Brief notes came now and then from Craig too, to whom I had sent a faithful account of

how I had brought Mrs. Mavor to her ship, and of how I had watched her sail away with none too brave a

face, as she held up her hand that bore the miners' ring, and smiled with that deep light in her eyes. Ah! those

eyes have driven me to despair and made me fear that I am no great painter after all, in spite of what my

friends tell me who come in to smoke my good cigars and praise my brush. I can get the brow and hair, and

mouth and pose, but the eyes! the eyes elude meand the faces of Mrs. Mavor on my wall, that the men

praise and rave over, are not such as I could show to any of the men from the mountains.

Graeme's letters tell me chiefly about Craig and his doings, and about old man Nelson; while from Craig I

hear about Graeme, and how he and Nelson are standing at his back, and doing what they can to fill the gap

that never can be filled. The three are much together, I can see, and I am glad for them all, but chiefly for

Craig, whose face, griefstricken but resolute, and often gentle as a woman's, will not leave me nor let me

The note of thanks he sent me was entirely characteristic. There were no heroics, much less pining or

selfpity. It was simple and manly, not ignoring the pain but making much of the joy. And then they had their

work to do. That note, so clear, so manly, so nobly sensible, stiffens my back yet at times.

In the spring came the startling news that Black Rock would soon be no more. The mines were to close down

on April 1. The company, having allured the confiding public with enticing descriptions of marvellous drifts,

veins, assays, and prospects, and having expended vast sums of the public's money in developing the mines

till the assurance of their reliability was absolutely final, calmly shut down and vanished. With their

vanishing vanishes Black Rock, not without loss and much deep cursing on the part of the men brought some

hundreds of miles to aid the company in its extraordinary and wholly inexplicable game.

Personally it grieved me to think that my plan of returning to Black Rock could never be carried out. It was a

great compensation, however, that the three men most representative to me of that life were soon to visit me

actually in my own home and den. Graeme's letter said that in one month they might be expected to appear.

On receiving the great news, I at once looked up young Nelson and his sister, and we proceeded to celebrate

the joyful prospect with a specially good dinner. I found the greatest delight in picturing the joy and pride of

the old man in his children, whom he had not seen for fifteen or sixteen years. The mother had died some five

years before, then the farm was sold, and the brother and sister came into the city; and any father might be

proud of them. The son was a wellmade young fellow, handsome enough, thoughtful, and solidlooking.

The girl reminded me of her father. The same resolution was seen in mouth and jaw, and the same passion

slumbered in the dark grey eyes. She was not beautiful, but she carried herself well, and one would always

look at her twice. It would be worth something to see the meeting between father and daughter.

But fate, the greatest artist of us all, takes little count of the careful drawing and the bright colouring of our

fancy's pictures, but with rude hand deranges all, and with one swift sweep paints out the bright and paints in

the dark. And this trick he served me when, one June night, after long and anxious waiting for some word

from the west, my door suddenly opened and Graeme walked in upon me like a spectre, grey and voiceless.

My shout of welcome was choked back by the look in his face, and I could only gaze at him and wait for his

He obeyed, looking up at me with burning, sleepless eyes. My heart was sore for his misery, and I said: 'Don't

mind, old chap; it can't be so awfully bad. You're here safe and sound at any rate,' and so I went on to give

'Now look here, Graeme, let's have it. When did you land here? Where is Nelson? Why didn't you bring him

'What happened?' I asked. But ignoring my question, he said: 'I must see his children. I have not slept for four

nights. I hardly know what I am doing; but I can't rest till I see his children. I promised him. Get them for

'Tomorrow will do. Go to sleep now, and we shall arrange everything tomorrow,' I urged.

In half an hour they were listening, pale and griefstricken, to the story of their father's death.

Poor Graeme was relentless in his selfcondemnation as he told how, through his 'cursed folly,' old Nelson

was killed. The three, Craig, Graeme, and Nelson, had come as far as Victoria together. There they left Craig,

and came on to San Francisco. In an evil hour Graeme met a companion of other and evil days, and it was not

In vain Nelson warned and pleaded. The reaction from the monotony and poverty of camp life to the

excitement and luxury of the San Francisco gaming palaces swung Graeme quite off his feet, and all that

'And there he would sit,' said Graeme in a hard, bitter voice, 'waiting and watching often till the grey morning

light, while my madness held me fast to the table. One night,' here he paused a moment, put his face in his

hands and shuddered; but quickly he was master of himself again, and went on in the same hard voice'One

night my partner and I were playing two men who had done us up before. I knew they were cheating, but

could not detect them. Game after game they won, till I was furious at my stupidity in not being able to catch

them. Happening to glance at Nelson in the corner, I caught a meaning look, and looking again, he threw me

a signal. I knew at once what the fraud was, and next game charged the fellow with it. He gave me the lie; I

struck his mouth, but before I could draw my gun, his partner had me by the arms. What followed I hardly

know. While I was struggling to get free, I saw him reach for his weapon; but, as he drew it, Nelson sprang

across the table, and bore him down. When the row was ever, three men lay on the floor. One was Nelson; he

I started at the intense fierceness in the voice, and, looking upon the girl, saw her eyes blazing with a terrible

'I did not mean to. He came at me. I struck him harder than I knew. He never moved.'

'I got him to a private ward, had the best doctor in the city, and sent for Craig to Victoria. For three days we

thought he would livehe was keen to get home; but by the time Craig came we had given up hope. Oh, but

I was thankful to see Craig come in, and the joy in the old man's eyes was beautiful to see. There was no pain

at last, and no fear. He would not allow me to reproach myself, saying over and over, "You would have done

the same for me"as I would, fast enough"and it is better me than you. I am old and done; you will do

much good yet for the boys." And he kept looking at me till I could only promise to do my best.

'But I am glad I told him how much good he had done me during the last year, for he seemed to think that too

good to be true. And when Craig told him how he had helped the boys in the camp, and how Sandy and

Baptiste and the Campbells would always be better men for his life among them, the old man's face actually

shone, as if light were coming through. And with surprise and joy he kept on saying, "Do you think so? Do

you think so? Perhaps so, perhaps so." At the last he talked of Christmas night at the camp. You were there,

you remember. Craig had been holding a service, and something happened, I don't know what, but they both

'I know,' I said, and I saw again the picture of the old man under the pine, upon his knees in the snow, with

'Whatever it was, it was in his mind at the very last, and I can never forget his face as he turned it to Craig.

One hears of such things: I had often, but had never put much faith in them; but joy, rapture, triumph, these

are what were in his face, as he said, his breath coming short, "You saidHe wouldn'tfail meyou were

showedmeI'll see Himandtell Him' And Craig, kneeling beside him so steadyI was behaving

like a foolsmiled down through his streaming tears into the dim eyes so brightly, till they could see no

more. Thank him for that! He helped the old man through, and he helped me too, that night, thank God!' And

He had forgotten us, and was back beside his passing friend, and all his selfcontrol could not keep back the

The brother and sister were quietly weeping, but spoke no word, though I knew Graeme was waiting for

I took up the word, and told of what I had known of Nelson, and his influence upon the men of Black Rock.

They listened eagerly enough, but still without speaking. There seemed nothing to say, till I suggested to

Graeme that he must get some rest. Then the girl turned to him, and, impulsively putting out her hand, said

'No, no! You must not say so,' she answered hurriedly. 'You would have done the same for him.'

'God knows I would,' said Graeme earnestly; 'and God bless you for your words!' And I was thankful to see

We carried him to the old home in the country, that he might lie by the side of the wife he had loved and

wronged. A few friends met us at the wayside station, and followed in sad procession along the country road,

that wound past farms and through woods, and at last up to the ascent where the quaint, old wooden church,

black with the rains and snows of many years, stood among its silent graves. The little graveyard sloped

gently towards the setting sun, and from it one could see, far on every side, the fields of grain and

meadowland that wandered off over softly undulating hills to meet the maple woods at the horizon, dark,

green, and cool. Here and there white farmhouses, with great barns standing near, looked out from clustering

Up the grassgrown walk, and through the crowding mounds, over which waves, uncut, the long, tangling

grass, we bear our friend, and let him gently down into the kindly bosom of mother earth, dark, moist, and

warm. The sound of a distant cowbell mingles with the voice of the last prayer; the clods drop heavily with

heart startling echo; the mound is heaped and shaped by kindly friends, sharing with one another the task;

the long rough sods are laid over and patted into place; the old minister takes farewell in a few words of

gentle sympathy; the brother and sister, with lingering looks at the two graves side by side, the old and the

new, step into the farmer's carriage, and drive away; the sexton locks the gate and goes home, and we are left

'Connor, he did not grudge his life to meand I think'and here the words came slowly'I understand

Then taking off his hat, he said reverently, 'By God's help Nelson's life shall not end, but shall go on. Yes, old

man!' looking down upon the grave, 'I'm with you'; and lifting up his face to the calm sky, 'God help me to be

Then he turned and walked briskly away, as one might who had pressing business, or as soldiers march from

a comrade's grave to a merry tune, not that they have forgotten, but they have still to fight.

There was more left in that grave than old man Nelson's dead body. It seemed to me that Graeme left part, at

least, of his old self there, with his dead friend and comrade, in the quiet country churchyard. I waited long

for the old careless, reckless spirit to appear, but he was never the same again. The change was unmistakable,

but hard to define. He seemed to have resolved his life into a definite purpose. He was hardly so comfortable

a fellow to be with; he made me feel even more lazy and useless than was my wont; but I respected him

more, and liked him none the less. As a lion he was not a success. He would not roar. This was disappointing

to me, and to his friends and mine, who had been waiting his return with eager expectation of tales of thrilling

His first days were spent in making right, or as nearly right as he could, the break that drove him to the west.

His old firm (and I have had more respect for the humanity of lawyers ever since) behaved really well. They

proved the restoration of their confidence in his integrity and ability by offering him a place in the firm,

which, however, he would not accept. Then, when he felt clean, as he said, he posted off home, taking me

with him. During the railway journey of four hours he hardly spoke; but when we had left the town behind,

and had fairly got upon the country road that led toward the home ten miles away, his speech came to him in

a great flow. His spirits ran over. He was like a boy returning from his first college term. His very face wore

the boy's open, innocent, earnest look that used to attract men to him in his first college year. His delight in

the fields and woods, in the sweet country air and the sunlight, was without bound. How often had we driven

Every turn was familiar. The swamp where the tamaracks stood straight and slim out of their beds of moss;

the brule, as we used to call it, where the pinestumps, huge and blackened, were half hidden by the new

growth of poplars and soft maples; the big hill, where we used to get out and walk when the roads were bad;

the orchards, where the harvest apples were best and most accessible all had their memories.

It was one of those perfect afternoons that so often come in the early Canadian summer, before Nature grows

weary with the heat. The white gravel road was trimmed on either side with turf of living green, close

cropped by the sheep that wandered in flocks along its whole length. Beyond the picturesque snakefences

stretched the fields of springing grain, of varying shades of green, with here and there a dark brown patch,

marking a turnip field or summer fallow, and far back were the woods of maple and beech and elm, with here

and there the tufted top of a mighty pine, the lonely representative of a vanished race, standing clear above

As we drove through the big swamp, where the yawning, haunted gully plunges down to its gloomy depths,

Graeme reminded me of that night when our horse saw something in that same gully, and refused to go past;

and I felt again, though it was broad daylight, something of the grue that shivered down my back, as I saw in

As we came nearer home the houses became familiar. Every house had its tale: we had eaten or slept in most

of them; we had sampled apples, and cherries, and plums from their orchards, openly as guests, or secretly as

marauders, under cover of nightthe more delightful way, I fear. Ah! happy days, with these innocent

crimes and fleeting remorses, how bravely we faced them, and how gaily we lived them, and how yearningly

we look back at them now! The sun was just dipping into the treetops of the distant woods behind as we

came to the top of the last hill that overlooked the valley, in which lay the village of Riverdale. Wooded hills

stood about it on three sides, and, where the hills faded out, there lay the mill pond sleeping and smiling in

the sun. Through the village ran the white road, up past the old frame church, and on to the white manse

standing among the trees. That was Graeme's home, and mine too, for I had never known another worthy of

the name. We held up our team to look down over the valley, with its rampart of wooded hills, its shining

pond, and its nestling village, and on past to the church and the white manse, hiding among the trees. The

beauty, the peace, the warm, loving homeliness of the scene came about our hearts, but, being men, we could

'Let's go,' cried Graeme, and down the hill we tore and rocked and swayed to the amazement of the steady

team, whose education from the earliest years had impressed upon their minds the criminality of attempting

to do anything but walk carefully down a hill, at least for twothirds of the way. Through the village, in a

cloud of dust, we swept, catching a glimpse of a wellknown face here and there, and flinging a salutation as

we passed, leaving the owner of the face rooted to his place in astonishment at the sight of Graeme whirling

on in his oldtime, wellknown reckless manner. Only old Dunc. M'Leod was equal to the moment, for as

Graeme called out, 'Hello, Dunc.!' the old man lifted up his hands, and called back in an awed voice: 'Bless

As we neared the church he pulled up his team, and we went quietly past the sleepers there, then again on the

full run down the gentle slope, over the little brook, and up to the gate. He had hardly got his team pulled up

before, flinging me the lines, he was out over the wheel, for coming down the walk, with her hands lifted

high, was a dainty little lady, with the face of an angel. In a moment Graeme had her in his arms. I heard the

faint cry, 'My boy, my boy,' and got down on the other side to attend to my off horse, surprised to find my

hands trembling and my eyes full of tears. Back upon the steps stood an old gentleman, with white hair and

flowing beard, handsome, straight, and statelyGraeme's father, waiting his turn.

'Welcome home, my lad,' was his greeting, as he kissed his son, and the tremor of his voice, and the sight of

'There's Connor, mother!' shouted out Graeme, and the dainty little lady, in her black silk and white lace,

I stood with my hat off, saying something about being glad to come, but wishing that I could get away before

I should make quite a fool of myself. For as I looked down upon that beautiful face, pale, except for a faint

flush upon each faded cheek, and read the story of pain endured and conquered, and as I thought of all the

long years of waiting and of vain hoping, I found my throat dry and sore, and the words would not come. But

'You will find Jack at the stable,' she said, smiling; 'he ought to have been here.'

'Yes, certainly, I'll find him, Mrs. Graeme. I suppose he's as much of a scapegrace as ever, and off I went to

look up Graeme's young brother, who had given every promise in the old days of developing into as stirring a

rascal as one could desire; but who, as I found out later, had not lived these years in his mother's home for

'Oh, Jack's a good boy,' she answered, smiling again, as she turned toward the other two, now waiting for her

The week that followed was a happy one for us all; but for the mother it was full to the brim with joy. Her

sweet face was full of content, and in her eyes rested a great peace. Our days were spent driving about among

the hills, or strolling through the maple woods, or down into the tamarack swamp, where the pitcher plants

and the swamp lilies and the marigold waved above the deep moss. In the evenings we sat under the trees on

the lawn till the stars came out and the night dews drove us in. Like two lovers, Graeme and his mother

would wander off together, leaving Jack and me to each other. Jack was reading for divinity, and was really a

fine, manly fellow, with all his brother's turn for rugby, and I took to him amazingly; but after the day was

over we would gather about the supper table, and the talk would be of all things under heaven art, football,

theology. The mother would lead in all. How quick she was, how bright her fancy, how subtle her intellect,

'That seems to be the difficulty, Jack,' said his mother, 'to get hold of his tale.'

'Oh, mother,' groaned Jack; 'you never did such a thing before! How could you? Is it this baleful Western

'But, seriously, Graeme,' I remonstrated, 'you ought to tell your people of your lifethat free, glorious life in

'Free! Glorious! To some men, perhaps!' said Graeme, and then fell into silence.

But I saw Graeme as a new man the night he talked theology with his father. The old minister was a splendid

Calvinist, of heroic type, and as he discoursed of God's sovereignty and election, his face glowed and his

Graeme listened intently, now and then putting in a question, as one would a keen knifethrust into a foe. But

the old man knew his ground, and moved easily among his ideas, demolishing the enemy as he appeared,

with jaunty grace. In the full flow of his triumphant argument, Graeme turned to him with sudden

'Look here, father! I was born a Calvinist, and I can't see how any one with a level head can hold anything

else, than that the Almighty has some idea as to how He wants to run His universe, and He means to carry out

His idea, and is carrying it out; but what would you do in a case like this?' Then he told him the story of poor

Then Graeme asked me to finish the tale. After I had finished the story of Billy's final triumph and of Craig's

part in it, they sat long silent, till the minister, clearing his throat hard and blowing his nose more like a

'Thank God for such a man in such a place! I wish there were more of us like him.'

'I should like to see you out there, sir,' said Graeme admiringly; 'you'd get them, but you wouldn't have time

'Yes, yes!' said his father warmly; 'I should love to have a chance just to preach election to these poor lads.

'It is worth a man's life,' said Graeme earnestly. His younger brother turned his face eagerly toward the

mother. For answer she slipped her hand into his and said softly, while her eyes shone like stars

'Some day, Jack, perhaps! God knows.' But Jack only looked steadily at her, smiling a little and patting her

'You'd shine there, mother,' said Graeme, smiling upon her; 'you'd better come with me.' She started, and said

'With you?' It was the first hint he had given of his purpose. 'You are going back?'

'Not to preach, Jack; I'm not orthodox enough,' looking at his father and shaking his head; 'but to build

'Could you not find work nearer home, my boy?' asked the father; 'there is plenty of both kinds near us here,

'Lots of work, but not mine, I fear,' answered Graeme, keeping his eyes away from his mother's face. 'A man

His voice was quiet and resolute, and glancing at the beautiful face at the end of the table, I saw in the pale

lips and yearning eyes that the mother was offering up her firstborn, that ancient sacrifice. But not all the

agony of sacrifice could wring from her entreaty or complaint in the hearing of her sons. That was for other

ears and for the silent hours of the night. And next morning when she came down to meet us her face was

wan and weary, but it wore the peace of victory and a glory not of earth. Her greeting was full of dignity,

sweet and gentle; but when she came to Graeme she lingered over him and kissed him twice. And that was all

She hesitated just a moment, then suddenly put her hands upon my shoulders and kissed me, saying softly,

'Gladly, if I may,' I hastened to answer, for the sweet, brave face was too much to bear; and, till she left us for

that world of which she was a part, I kept my word, to my own great and lasting good. When Graeme met me

in the city at the end of the summer, he brought me her love, and then burst forth

'Connor, do you know, I have just discovered my mother! I have never known her till this summer.'

'More fool you,' I answered, for often had I, who had never known a mother, envied him his.

'Yes, that is true,' he answered slowly; 'but you cannot see until you have eyes.'

Before he set out again for the west I gave him a supper, asking the men who had been with us in the old

'Varsity days. I was doubtful as to the wisdom of this, and was persuaded only by Graeme's eager assent to

'Certainly, let's have them,' he said; 'I shall be awfully glad to see them; great stuff they were.'

'But, I don't know, Graeme; you seewellhang it!you know you're different, you know.'

'I hope I can still stand a good supper, and if the boys can't stand me, why, I can't help it. I'll do anything but

'Well, it is rather hard lines that when I have been talking up my lion for a year, and then finally secure him,

'Serve you right,' he replied, quite heartlessly; 'but I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll feed! Don't you worry,' he adds

And go it did. The supper was of the best; the wines firstclass. I had asked Graeme about the wines.

'Do as you like, old man,' was his answer; 'it's your supper, but,' he added, 'are the men all straight?'

If not, don't you help them down; and anyway, you can't be too careful. But don't mind me; I am quit of the

whole business from this out.' So I ventured wines, for the last time, as it happened.

We were a quaint combination. Old 'Beetles,' whose nickname was prophetic of his future fame as a bugman,

as the fellows irreverently said; 'Stumpy' Smith, a demon bowler; Polly Lindsay, slow as ever and as sure as

when he held the halfback line with Graeme, and used to make my heart stand still with terror at his cool

deliberation. But he was never known to fumble nor to funk, and somehow he always got us out safe enough.

Then there was Rattray'Rat' for shortwho, from a swell, had developed into a cynic with a sneer,

awfully clever and a good enough fellow at heart. Little 'Wig' Martin, the sharpest quarter ever seen, and big

Barney Lundy, centre scrimmage, whose terrific roar and rush had often struck terror to the enemy's heart,

As the supper went on my fears began to vanish, for if Graeme did not 'roar,' he did the next best thingate

and talked quite up to his old form. Now we played our matches over again, bitterly lamenting the 'if's' that

had lost us the championships, and wildly approving the tackles that had saved, and the runs that had made

the 'Varsity crowd go mad with delight and had won for us. And as their names came up in talk, we learned

how life had gone with those who had been our comrades of ten years ago. Some, success had lifted to high

But as the evening wore on, I began to wish that I had left out the wines, for the men began to drop an

occasional oath, though I had let them know during the summer that Graeme was not the man he had been.

But Graeme smoked and talked and heeded not, till Rattray swore by that name most sacred of all ever borne

'What an awful fool a man is, to damn things as you do, Rat. Things are not damned. It is men who are; and

that is too bad to be talked much about but when a man flings out of his foul mouth the name of Jesus

'I suppose you're right enough, it is bad form; but crime is rather strong, I think.'

'Oh, come now,' broke in Beetles. 'Religion is all right, is a good thing, and I believe a necessary thing for the

Beetles consigned him to the pit and was silent, for his father was an Episcopal clergyman, and his mother a

'I fooled with that for some time, Beetles, but it won't do. You can't build a religion that will take the devil out

of a man on a myth. That won't do the trick. I don't want to argue about it, but I am quite convinced the myth

'Yes, you have, Rattray, you know you have,' said Wig again. But Rattray ignored him.

'I'll tell you, boys,' said Graeme. 'I want you to know, anyway, why I believe what I do.'

Then he told them the story of old man Nelson, from the old coast days, before I knew him, to the end. He

told the story well. The stern fight and the victory of the life, and the selfsacrifice and the pathos of the

'That's why I believe in Jesus Christ, and that's why I think it a crime to fling His name about!'

'Look here, old chap,' said Rattray; 'you're quite right about this; I'm willing to own up. Wig is correct. I know

a few, at least, of that stamp, but most of those who go in for that sort of thing are not much account'

'For ten years, Rattray,' said Graeme in a downright, matterof fact way, 'you and I have tried this sort of

thing'tapping a bottle'and we got out of it all there is to be got, paid well for it, too, andfaugh! you

know it's not good enough, and the more you go in for it, the more you curse yourself. So I have quit this and

'Every man must play his game in his place, old chap. I'd like to see you tackle it, though, right well,' said

Graeme earnestly. And so he did, in the after years, and good tackling it was. But that is another story.

'But, I say, Graeme,' persisted Beetles, 'about this business, do you mean to say you go the whole

'I haven't much of a creed, Beetles; don't really know how much I believe. But,' by this time he was standing,

'I do know that good is good, and bad is bad, and good and bad are not the same. And I know a man's a fool

to follow the one, and a wise man to follow the other, and,' lowering his voice, 'I believe God is at the back of

a man who wants to get done with bad. I've tried all that folly,' sweeping his hand over the glasses and

'I'll go you that far,' roared big Barney, following his old captain as of yore.

Then I took up the word, for there rose before me the scene in the League saloon, and I saw the beautiful face

with the deep shining eyes, and I was speaking for her again. I told them of Craig and his fight for these

men's lives. I told them, too, of how I had been too indolent to begin. 'But,' I said, 'I am going this far from

'I say,' said Polly Lindsay, coming up in his old style, slow but sure, 'let's all go in, say for five years.' And so

And as I told Craig about this a year later, when he was on his way back from his Old Land trip to join

Graeme in the mountains, he threw up his head in the old way and said, 'It was well done. It must have been

worth seeing. Old man Nelson's work is not done yet. Tell me again,' and he made me go over the whole

But when I told Mrs. Mavor, after two years had gone, she only said, 'Old things are passed away, all things

are become new'; but the light glowed in her eyes till I could not see their colour. But all that, too, is another

A man with a conscience is often provoking, sometimes impossible. Persuasion is lost upon him. He will not

get angry, and he looks at one with such a faraway expression in his face that in striving to persuade him

one feels earthly and even fiendish. At least this was my experience with Craig. He spent a week with me just

before he sailed for the Old Land, for the purpose, as he said, of getting some of the coal dust and other grime

He made me angry the last night of his stay, and all the more that he remained quite sweetly unmoved. It was

a strategic mistake of mine to tell him how Nelson came home to us, and how Graeme stood up before the

'Varsity chaps at my supper and made his confession and confused Rattray's easystepping profanity, and

started his own fiveyear league. For all this stirred in Craig the hero, and he was ready for all sorts of heroic

nonsense, as I called it. We talked of everything but the one thing, and about that we said not a word till,

'And yet she is a wise woman,' he said, as if carefully considering the question.

'And as for the old lady, there must be some one in the connection to whom it would be a Godsend to care for

'Now, Connor,' he said quietly, 'don't. We have gone over all there is to be said. Nothing new has come. Don't

Then I played the heathen and raged, as Graeme would have said, till Craig smiled a little wearily and said

'You exhaust yourself, old chap. Have a pipe, do'; and after a pause he added in his own way, 'What would

you have? The path lies straight from my feet. Should I quit it? I could not so disappoint youand all of

And I knew he was thinking of Graeme and the lads in the mountains he had taught to be true men. It did not

help my rage, but it checked my speech; so I smoked in silence till he was moved to say

'And after all, you know, old chap, there are great compensations for all losses; but for the loss of a good

But, all the same, I hoped for some better result from his visit to Britain. It seemed to me that something must

The year passed, however, and when I looked into Craig's face again I knew that nothing had been changed,

and that he had come back to take up again his life alone, more resolutely hopeful than ever.

But the year had left its mark upon him too. He was a broader and deeper man. He had been living and

thinking with men of larger ideas and richer culture, and he was far too quick in sympathy with life to remain

untouched by his surroundings. He was more tolerant of opinions other than his own, but more unrelenting in

his fidelity to conscience and more impatient of halfheartedness and selfindulgence. He was full of

reverence for the great scholars and the great leaders of men he had come to know.

'Great, noble fellows they are, and extraordinarily modest,' he said'that is, the really great are modest.

There are plenty of the other sort, neither great nor modest. And the books to be read! I am quite hopeless

about my reading. It gave me a queer sensation to shake hands with a man who had written a great book. To

hear him make commonplace remarks, to witness a faltering in knowledgeone expects these men to know

'Bright, keen, generous fellows. In things theoretical, omniscient; but in things practical, quite helpless. They

toss about great ideas as the miners lumps of coal. They can call them by their book names easily enough, but

I often wondered whether they could put them into English. Some of them I coveted for the mountains. Men

with clear heads and big hearts, and built after Sandy M'Naughton's model. It does seem a sinful waste of

God's good human stuff to see these fellows potter away their lives among theories living and dead, and end

up by producing a book! They are all either making or going to make a book. A good thing we haven't to read

them. But here and there among them is some quiet chap who will make a book that men will tumble over

'Yes!' he answered slowly, 'doing great work. Every one worships her just as we do, and she is making them

He spoke cheerfully and readily as if he were repeating a lesson well learned, but he could not humbug me. I

'Tell me about her,' I said, for I knew that if he would talk it would do him good. And talk he did, often

forgetting me, till, as I listened, I found myself looking again into the fathomless eyes, and hearing again the

heartsearching voice. I saw her go in and out of the little redtiled cottages and down the narrow back lanes

of the village; I heard her voice in a sweet, low song by the bed of a dying child, or pouring forth floods of

music in the great new hall of the factory town near by. But I could not see, though he tried to show me, the

stately gracious lady receiving the country folk in her home. He did not linger over that scene, but went back

again to the gatecottage where she had taken him one day to see Billy Breen's mother.

'I found the old woman knew all about me,' he said, simply enough; 'but there were many things about Billy

she had never heard, and I was glad to put her right on some points, though Mrs. Mavor would not hear it.'

He sat silent for a little, looking into the coals; then went on in a soft, quiet voice

'It brought back the mountains and the old days to hear again Billy's tones in his mother's voice, and to see

her sitting there in the very dress she wore the night of the League, you remember some soft stuff with

black lace about itand to hear her sing as she did for Billyah! ah!' His voice unexpectedly broke, but in a

moment he was master of himself and begged me to forgive his weakness. I am afraid I said words that

'I am getting selfish and weak,' he said; 'I must get to work. I am glad to get to work. There is much to do, and

'Useless and lazy!' I said to myself, thinking of my life beside his, and trying to get command of my voice, so

as not to make quite a fool of myself. And for many a day those words goaded me to work and to the exercise

of some mild selfdenial. But more than all else, after Craig had gone back to the mountains, Graeme's letters

from the railway construction camp stirred one to do unpleasant duty long postponed, and rendered

uncomfortable my hours of most luxurious ease. Many of the old gang were with him, both of lumbermen

and miners, and Craig was their minister. And the letters told of how he laboured by day and by night along

the line of construction, carrying his tent and kit with him, preaching straight sermons, watching by sick men,

writing their letters, and winning their hearts; making strong their lives, and helping them to die well when

their hour came. One day, these letters proved too much for me, and I packed away my paints and brushes,

and made my vow unto the Lord that I would be 'useless and lazy' no longer, but would do something with

myself. In consequence, I found myself within three weeks walking the London hospitals, finishing my

course, that I might join that band of men who were doing something with life, or, if throwing it away, were

not losing it for nothing. I had finished being a fool, I hoped, at least a fool of the useless and luxurious kind.

The letter that came from Graeme, in reply to my request for a position on his staff, was characteristic of the

man, both new and old, full of gayest humour and of most earnest welcome to the work.

'I knew you would not long be content with the making of pictures, which the world does not really need, and

would join your friends in the dear West, making lives that the world needs so sorely.'

'But be sure to be thankful every day for your privilege. . . . It will be good to think of you all, with the

glorious mountains about you, and Christ's own work in your hands. . . . Ah! how we would like to choose

The longing did not appear in the words, but I needed no words to tell me how deep and how constant it was.

And I take some credit to myself, that in my reply I gave her no bidding to join our band, but rather praised

the work she was doing in her place, telling her how I had heard of it from Craig.

The summer found me religiously doing Paris and Vienna, gaining a more perfect acquaintance with the

extent and variety of my own ignorance, and so fully occupied in this interesting and wholesome occupation

that I fell out with all my correspondents, with the result of weeks of silence between us.

Two letters among the heap waiting on my table in London made my heart beat quick, but with how different

feelings: one from Graeme telling me that Craig had been very ill, and that he was to take him home as soon

as he could be moved. Mrs. Mavor's letter told me of the death of the old lady, who had been her care for the

past two years, and of her intention to spend some months in her old home in Edinburgh. And this letter it is

that accounts for my presence in a miserable, dingy, dirty little hall running off a close in the historic

Cowgate, redolent of the glories of the splendid past, and of the various odours of the evilsmelling present. I

was there to hear Mrs. Mavor sing to the crowd of gamins that thronged the closes in the neighbourhood, and

that had been gathered into a club by 'a fine leddie frae the West End,' for the love of Christ and His lost. This

was an 'At Home' night, and the mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, of all ages and sizes were present.

Of all the sad faces I had ever seen, those mothers carried the saddest and most woestricken. 'Heaven pity

us!' I found myself saying; 'is this the beautiful, the cultured, the heavenexalted city of Edinburgh? Will it

not, for this, be cast down into hell some day, if it repent not of its closes and their dens of defilement? Oh!

the utter weariness, the dazed hopelessness of the ghastly faces! Do not the kindly, gentle churchgoing folk

of the crescents and the gardens see them in their dreams, or are their dreams too heavenly for these ghastly

I cannot recall the programme of the evening, but in my memory gallery is a vivid picture of that face,

sweet, sad, beautiful, alight with the deep glow of her eyes, as she stood and sang to that dingy crowd. As I

sat upon the windowledge listening to the voice with its flowing song, my thoughts were far away, and I

was looking down once more upon the eager, coalgrimed faces in the rude little church in Black Rock. I was

brought back to find myself swallowing hard by an audible whisper from a wee lassie to her mother

When I came to myself she was singing 'The Land o' the Leal,' the Scotch 'Jerusalem the Golden,' immortal,

perfect. It needed experience of the hungerhaunted Cowgate closes, chill with the black mist of an eastern

'There's nae sorrow there, Jean, There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, The day is aye fair in The Land o' the

A land of fair, warm days, untouched by sorrow and care, would be heaven indeed to the dwellers of the

The rest of that evening is hazy enough to me now, till I find myself opposite Mrs. Mavor at her fire, reading

I could not keep the truth from her. I knew it would be folly to try. So I read straight on till I came to the

'He has had mountain fever, whatever that may be, and he will not pull up again. If I can, I shall take him

home to my mother'when she suddenly stretched out her hand, saying, 'Oh, let me read!' and I gave her the

'Listen! my life is much changed. My motherinlaw is gone; she needs me no longer. My solicitor tells me,

too, that owing to unfortunate investments there is need of money, so great need, that it is possible that either

the estates or the works must go. My cousin has his all in the worksiron works, you know. It would be

She looked at me a few moments, and into her eyes there came a light soft and tender, as she said

And so she did; and no old Roman in all the glory of a Triumph carried a prouder heart than I, as I bore her

'He's all right,' at which Mrs. Mavor grew white; but when she shook hands with him, the red was in her

'It was the cable did it,' went on Graeme. 'Connor's a great doctor! His first case will make him famous. Good

prescription after mountain fever try a cablegram!' And the red grew deeper in the beautiful face beside us.

Never did the country look so lovely. The woods were in their gayest autumn dress; the brown fields were

bathed in a purple haze; the air was sweet and fresh with a suspicion of the coming frosts of winter. But in

spite of all the road seemed long, and it was as if hours had gone before our eyes fell upon the white manse

'Let them go,' I cried, as Graeme paused to take in the view, and down the sloping dusty road we flew on the

'Reminds one a little of Abe's curves,' said Graeme, as we drew up at the gate. But I answered him not, for I

was introducing to each other the two best women in the world. As I was about to rush into the house,

'At this present moment?' he asked, in a shocked voice. 'Why, Connor, you surprise me.'

'Yes,' he went on gravely; 'you may trust my mother to be discreetly attending to her domestic duties; she is a

I had no doubt of it, for at that moment she came out to us with little Marjorie in her arms.

'You have shown Mrs. Mavor to her room, mother, I hope,' said Graeme; but she only smiled and said

'Run away with your horses, you silly boy,' at which he solemnly shook his head. 'Ah, mother, you are

That evening the manse overflowed with joy, and the days that followed were like dreams set to sweet music.

But for sheer wild delight, nothing in my memory can quite come up to the demonstration organised by

Graeme, with assistance from Nixon, Shaw, Sandy, Abe, Geordie, and Baptiste, in honour of the arrival in

camp of Mr. and Mrs. Craig. And, in my opinion, it added something to the occasion, that after all the cheers

for Mr. and Mrs. Craig had died away, and after all the hats had come down, Baptiste, who had never taken

his eyes from that radiant face, should suddenly have swept the crowd into a perfect storm of cheers by

And for many a day the men of Black Rock would easily fall into the old and wellloved name; but up and

down the line of construction, in all the camps beyond the Great Divide, the new name became as dear as the

Those old wild days are long since gone into the dim distance of the past. They will not come again, for we

have fallen into quiet times; but often in my quietest hours I feel my heart pause in its beat to hear again that

strong, clear voice, like the sound of a trumpet, bidding us to be men; and I think of them allGraeme, their

chief, Sandy, Baptiste, Geordie, Abe, the Campbells, Nixon, Shaw, all stronger, better for their knowing of

him, and then I think of Billy asleep under the pines, and of old man Nelson with the long grass waving over

him in the quiet churchyard, and all my nonsense leaves me, and I bless the Lord for all His benefits, but

chiefly for the day I met the missionary of Black Rock in the lumbercamp among the Selkirks.