*. 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
Special Limited Edition 
 
 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 A TALE OF THE CROW'S NEST PASS 
 
 BY 
 
 RALPH CONNOR 
 
 C / t -rt . 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE SKY PILOT,*' "BLACK ROCK, 
 
 **THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY,*' 
 
 "GLENGARRY SCHOOL DAVE." 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
Copyright, 1904, by 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 
 New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
 Chicago : 63 Washington Street 
 Toronto: 27 Richmond Street, W, 
 London : 21 Paternoster Square 
 Edinburgh: 30 St. Mary's Street 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 11 
 
 II. 'VARSITY VERSUS McGiLL ....... 24 
 
 III. THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 55 
 
 IV. ONLY ONE CLAIM 62 
 
 V. " YEA, AND His OWN LIFE ALSO " 83 
 
 VI. ON THE TRAIL 103 
 
 VII. THE OUTPOST 121 
 
 VIII. THE OLD PROSPECTOR 133 
 
 IX. TIM CARROLL .146 
 
 X. THE TURF MEET 164 
 
 XI. "I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK MB IN" . . 180 
 
 XII. His KEEPER 197 
 
 XIII. THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON . . . e . . 215 
 
 XIV. OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING ........ 234 
 
 XV. EJECTED AND REJECTED 263 
 
 247959 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 XVI. "STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 290 
 
 XVII. BETTY'S LAST WORDS 312 
 
 XVHI. THE DON'S RECOVERY 331 
 
 XIX. THE REGION BEYOND 353 
 
 XX. THE NEW POLICY 377 
 
 XXI. THE WAITING GAME . 391 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 
 
 IT was one of November's rare days. The kindly 
 air, vital with the breath of the north wind and 
 mellow with the genial sun, was full of purple 
 haze; the grass, still vividly green, gave no hint 
 of the coming winter; the trees, bony and bare but 
 for a few rags of summer dress, russet-brown and 
 gold, stood softened of all their harshness m the 
 purple haze and slanting, yellow light of the autumn 
 afternoon. Nature wore a face of content. She had 
 fulfilled her course for another year, and, satisfied 
 with her achievement, was obviously thinking of 
 settling herself into her winter's sleep. 
 
 It was a good day to be alive. The tingle in 
 the air somehow got into the blood, 
 
 So it felt to a young girl who danced out from 
 under the trees on the west boundary of the Uni- 
 versity campus. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried to her statelier, taller sister, who 
 with a young man followed more sedately into the 
 open. "Oh, what a day! What a picture!" 
 
 She was a bonny maid just out of her teens, and, 
 with her brown gown, brown hair and eyes, red 
 
12 : THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 cheeks, and wholesome, happy face, she fitted well into 
 the picture she herself looked upon. 
 
 "Dear old 'Varsity," said her sister in a voice 
 quiet, but thrilling with intense feeling. " There 
 is nothing so lovely in all this city of Toronto." 
 
 " Toronto ! " exclaimed the young man at her side. 
 "Well, I should say! Don't you know that a dis- 
 tinguished American art critic declares this building 
 the most symmetrical, the most harmonious, the most 
 perfectly proportioned bit of architecture on the 
 American continent. And that is something, from a 
 citizen of the ' biggest nation on dry land.' ' 
 
 They walked slowly and silently along the border 
 of the matchless velvety lawn, noting the many 
 features of beauty in the old grey face of the Uni- 
 versity building the harmonious variety of lines and 
 curves in curious gargoyles, dragons, and gryphons 
 that adorned the cornices and the lintels, pausing 
 long to admire the wonderful carved entrance with its 
 massive tower above. 
 
 " Great, isn't it? " said Lloyd. " The whole thing, 
 I mean park, lawn, and the dear old, grey stones." 
 
 At this moment some men in football garb came 
 running out of the pillared portico. 
 
 " Oh, here's the team ! " cried Betty, the younger 
 sister, ecstatically. "Are they going to play?" 
 
 " No, I think not," said Lloyd. " Campbell would 
 not risk any scrimmaging or tackling this evening, 
 with McGill men even now in town thirsting for their 
 blood. He's got them out for a run to limber up 
 their wind and things for to-morrow." 
 
A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 13 
 
 The sisters were football enthusiasts. For the past 
 four years the beautiful Rosedale home of the Fair- 
 banks had been the rendezvous for students, and, as 
 many of these had been football men, the young ladies 
 had become as devoted to the game and almost as ex- 
 pert in its fine points as any of its champions. 
 
 " Don't they look well and fit," exclaimed Betty as 
 the string of runners went past. 
 
 " Yes, and fit they are every man," replied Lloyd. 
 "There's Campbell 1 He's a truly great captain, 
 knows his men, and gets out of them all that is 
 possible." 
 
 "Yes, and there's Brown; and McNab, isn't it? 
 Aren't they the quarters?" asked Betty excitedly. 
 
 Lloyd nodded. " And yonder goes ' Shock,' the 
 great Shock." 
 
 " Oh, where? " cried Betty. " Yes, yes. Now, do 
 you know I think he is just as mean as he can be. 
 Here I have been bowing and smiling my best and 
 sweetest for four years, and though he knows a lot of 
 the men we know he is just as much a stranger as 
 ever," and Betty pouted in a manner that would have 
 brought deep satisfaction to Shock had he seen her. 
 
 "Here are the three halves, aren't they?" in- 
 quired Helen, the elder sister. 
 
 "Yes," replied Lloyd. "There's Martin and 
 Bate. Fine fellow, Bate and " 
 
 " Oh ! " broke in Betty, " there's the ' The Don.' 1 
 do wish they would look. They needn't pretend they 
 don't see us, the horrid things." 
 
 "Of course they see you," answered Lloyd, "but 
 
14 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 they are engaged in serious business. You surely 
 don't expect to divert their attention from the pur- 
 suit of their noble art. Why, who, or what do ypu 
 conceive yourself to be? " 
 
 But Betty only smiled serenely, and shook her curls 
 back saucily. 
 
 "Oh, I know," replied Lloyd, "I know what you 
 are saying. ' Some day, some day they will grovel.* 
 Alas, only too soon! And, indeed, here comes The 
 Don on his second round. I'll ,ask him what he 
 means." 
 
 " If you dare ! " cried Betty. 
 
 "Mr. Lloyd!" said Helen haughtily, and Mr. 
 Lloyd thought better of it. 
 
 But "The Don" did not even glance toward the 
 group. 
 
 " Look at that, now," said Lloyd disgustedly. 
 " Did anyone ever see such besotted devotion to a 
 barbarous vocation." 
 
 " He did not see us at all," insisted Betty. "But 
 why is Mr. Balfour called < The Don '? " 
 
 " Obviously, I should say, from his Don-like ap- 
 pearance, bearing, carriage, etc. But I am not an 
 authority. Ask little Brown, your special slave. He 
 knows all about both Shock and The Don." 
 
 " What absurd names you have," exclaimed Betty. 
 "Now, what is the reason for Shock's name? Is it 
 the shock of his charge in the scrimmage? " 
 
 " Not bad, that. I rather fear, however, it has to 
 do with his most striking feature, if feature it be, for 
 when you pull him feet first out of a scrimmage, a 
 
A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 15 
 
 method not infrequently adopted, his head is a sight to 
 behold. But, as I said before, ask Brown." 
 
 "I will to-night. He's coming over after tea. 
 You are coming, too, are you not? " 
 
 Lloyd bowed. " I shall be delighted." 
 
 True to her word Betty greeted Brown, on his ap- 
 pearance in the cosy, homelike parlour of the Fair- 
 banks' that evening, with the question, " How did 
 'The Don' come by his nickname?" 
 
 " Oh, did you never know that ? Most fellows put 
 it down to his style, but it's not that. He got it from 
 his blood. You know, his father was one of those 
 West India sea-captains that one used to find strewn 
 thick through Halifax society, who made fortunes in 
 rum and lost them pretty much the same way. Well, 
 the old captain married a Spanish girl. I have seen 
 her portrait, and she was a beauty, a 6 high-bred 
 Spanish lady,' sure enough. Lived somewhere in the 
 islands. Came home with the Captain, and died in 
 Halifax, leaving her seven year old boy in charge 
 of an aunt. Father died soon afterwards. Grief, I 
 believe, and drink. Even then his people called the 
 boy ' the little Don.' He had a little money left him 
 to start with, but that has long since vanished. At 
 any rate, for the last five or six years he has had to 
 fend for himself." 
 
 " Quite a romance," said Lloyd. 
 
 " Isn't it? " exclaimed Betty. " And he never told 
 us a word." 
 
 Well, The Don's not a publisher." 
 
 " But then he told you." 
 
16 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Yes, he told me and Shock one night. He likes 
 us, you see." 
 
 ' De gustibus non disputandum, 9 " murmured 
 Lloyd, and in answer to Betty's inquiring look added, 
 " as the old woman said when she kissed her cow." 
 
 "Now then, what about Shock's name?" con- 
 tinued Betty. 
 
 " Hair," said Brown laconically. " You have seen 
 him come out of a scrimmage like a crab ? " 
 
 " Yes. Isn't he just lovely then? " exclaimed Betty. 
 
 "Lovely? Oh, woman, woman! A ghastly, 
 bloody, fearsome spectacle. Lovely ! But it was ever 
 thus. ' Butchered to make a Roman holiday,' " re- 
 plied Lloyd. 
 
 "Well, he is rather bloody. Bleeds easily, you 
 know, but it doesn't hurt at all," said Brown. " He 
 never really enjoys himself till the blood flows." 
 
 "Disgusting old Berserker!" exclaimed Lloyd. 
 
 " But I think he is just a dear," went on Betty en- 
 thusiastically. "The way he puts his head right 
 down into a crowd of men, and lets them jump on him 
 and maul him!" 
 
 " Yes," replied her sister, who had taken little part 
 in the conversation, " and comes out smiling. That is 
 what I like." 
 
 " And bloody," added Lloyd. " That's what Miss 
 Betty likes. 
 
 " I want to know about him," cried Betty im- 
 patiently. "Why don't we get to know him? Tell 
 me about him," she insisted. " Where does he live? 
 Who are his people? " 
 
A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 17 
 
 Brown hesitated. 
 
 "Well., you see, Shock's shy. Does not go in for 
 the sort of thing that Lloyd, for instance, revels and 
 glitters in teas, functions, social routs, and all that, 
 you know. He has only his mother, a dear old High- 
 land lad}', poor, proud, and independent. She lives 
 in a quaint little house out on the Commons away be- 
 hind the college, and lives for, in, with, by, and around 
 Shock, and he vice versa. He shares everything with 
 her, his work down in the mission " 
 
 " Mission ! " interrupted Betty. 
 
 "Yes. Runs a mission down in St. John's ward. 
 Gives her all his experiences with the denizens of that 
 precinct, keeps her in touch with his college work, 
 and even with his football. You ought to see him lay 
 out the big matches before her on the tea table with 
 plates, cups, salt cellars, knives, spoons, and you ought 
 to see her excitement and hear her criticisms. Oh, 
 she's a great sport ! " 
 
 "Go on," said Helen, her fine eyes beginning to 
 glow. " Go on. Tell us more about her." 
 
 But Brown shut up abruptly, as if he had been tak- 
 ing a liberty with the privacy of his friend's home. 
 
 " Oh," he said lightly, " there's nothing more to 
 tell. They live a very quiet, very simple, but, I think, 
 a very beautiful life." 
 
 "And she's fond of football?" inquired Betty. 
 
 "Devoted to it." 
 
 "And has she never seen a game? Has she never 
 seen Shock play?" inquired Helen. 
 
 "Never." 
 
18 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "Would she be afraid?" 
 
 "Would you insult the widow of a Sutherland 
 Highlander whose picture in warlike regalia regards 
 her daily from her cottage wall?" 
 
 " Well, I am going to see her," exclaimed Betty. 
 
 Brown looked annoyed. 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Why, I am going to call." 
 
 Brown laughed a little scornfully. "Yes, and be 
 sure to leave three cards is it? and tell her your 
 day." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " exclaimed Betty indig- 
 nantly. " You are not very polite." 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry, really. But I imagined the old 
 lady looking at you and wondering what was your 
 particular business, and then I thought of your dif- 
 ficulty in making it quite clear to her." 
 
 " Why ! does she not call on anyone? " 
 
 " No. She takes her knitting and visits." 
 
 "Well, I'm going anyway, somehow. I'll ask 
 Shock to take me." 
 
 " Oh, Betty, you could not do that," said Helen. 
 "No man would like exhibiting his home, much less 
 his mother." 
 
 But Betty shook her head decidedly, saying, " I'll 
 find some way. Tell me, what does she like ? " 
 
 " Shock." 
 
 " But I mean what amusement and pleasure has 
 she?" 
 
 " Amusement ! Shades of the mighty past ! Why, 
 Miss Betty," Brown's tone is sad and severe, " in my 
 
A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 19 
 
 young days young people never thought of amuse- 
 ment. We had no time for such follies." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! " exclaimed Betty impatiently. 
 " Has she no other interest in life than Shock ? " 
 
 " None. Her church, she would regard your 
 prelacy with horror, and Shock, and Shock's doings 
 and goings and football, of course, as I have said. 
 Shock plays, you see." 
 
 " Then I have an idea," cried Helen. " We'll " 
 
 " Do go on," appealed Brown. 
 
 66 Better give it to him," said Lloyd. " An idea, 
 you know, is to some people a rare and valuable asset." 
 
 " Not now. Perhaps later I may impart it," said 
 Helen. 
 
 " It would be a great kindness," said Brown hum- 
 bly, " if you could let me have it soon." 
 
 " Nature abhors a vacuum, you know," put in 
 Lloyd. 
 
 At this point the bell rang and The Don came in. 
 He was a young man of striking appearance, hand- 
 some, dark, well set up, with the eyes of his Spanish 
 mother, but with the head and jaw of his Scotch sea- 
 captain father. With all his ease of manner there 
 was a shy, proud reserve about him, and a kind of 
 grand air that set him apart from any company in 
 which he might appear. 
 
 After saluting the young ladies with a somewhat 
 formal bow, he announced, " I want you, Brown." 
 
 "Oh, sit down," cried Betty. "Sit down, Mr. 
 Balfour. We are not going to allow you to carry 
 off our visitor in this abrupt manner." 
 
20 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Yes, take yourself off," cried Brown. " You see 
 I can't be spared. 5 ' 
 
 "Please sit down," urged Helen. "We want to 
 ask you about the match." 
 
 " I really cannot," replied The Don. " I am on 
 duty, you see." 
 
 "On duty?" 
 
 " Yes. Looking after men who would stay out" to 
 all hours, and regale themselves upon cake and all 
 sorts of indigestible stuff. And more than that, 
 Shock is outside waiting.' 5 
 
 " Oh," cried Betty, " do bring him in. For years 
 Helen and I have known him, and yet we don't know 
 him. Bring him in." 
 
 " Can you riot persuade him to come in?" urged 
 Helen. 
 
 " I am sure I cannot. But if you were to try " 
 
 The Don paused, looking doubtfully at her. Helen 
 hesitated. 
 
 " Oh, he's awful. I know. He will hardly speak 
 to me," interrupted Betty. " But if you'll come with 
 me I'll humble myself before him." 
 
 In a moment or two, sure enough, they returned, 
 with Shock following. 
 
 He was a big man, gaunt and bony, with a mighty 
 pair of shoulders topped by a square, massive head 
 SG wliich bristled a veritable shock of coarse, yellow 
 hai*v But he had a strong, honest face, and good, 
 deep blue eyes. He seemed too big for the room, and 
 after shaking hands awkwardly with Helen, who 
 gone forward to meet him, he subsided into 
 
A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 21 
 
 a deep arm-chair, struggling with his hands and 
 feet. 
 
 The contrast between Shock on the one hand, and 
 the elegant Lloyd and the handsome Don on the 
 other, could hardly be more striking. All in the room 
 were conscious of this contrast and sought in every 
 way to minimise it. Betty plunged into football 
 talk, to which Shock listened for the most part smil- 
 ingly silent. 
 
 She was determined to draw her unhappy visitor 
 from his shell. But her most brilliant efforts were in 
 vain. Poor Shock remained hopelessly engaged with 
 his hands and feet, and replied at unexpected places 
 in explosive monosyllables at once ludicrous and dis- 
 concerting. Not even The Don, who came to her 
 assistance, could relieve the awkwardness of the situ- 
 ation. Shock was too large to be ignored, and too 
 unwieldy to be adjusted. 
 
 After a few minutes of hopeless endeavour The 
 Don gave up the attempt and rose to go, saying: 
 " You will need to excuse us. We are due at a meet- 
 ing to-night. Come along, Brown." 
 
 The alacrity which Shock displayed in getting 
 upon his feet gave abundant testimony to the agony 
 he had been suffering during the last half hour. 
 
 " Yes, we must be off," said Brown, far more eager 
 to go than was his wont. 
 
 " Will you not come again? " said Betty to Shock, 
 as she shook hands with him. " My mother would be 
 glad to see you." 
 
 But Shock could only look at her blankly, evidently 
 
22 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 wondering what her mother might wish to see him for, 
 and when Betty tried to extract a promise from him he 
 muttered something about being " far behind in his 
 work and very busy." 
 
 But Betty was not to be baulked. 
 
 "I should like to call on your mother," she said. 
 But again Shock looked blank, while Brown began to 
 make faces at her from behind his back. 
 
 " When will your mother be in ? " she persisted. 
 
 " Oh, she's in every day, except when she goes out 
 for a walk, or " 
 
 Brown kept up his signalling, and The Don began 
 to look puzzled and annoyed. 
 
 " Well," said Betty desperately, " I would like to 
 go and see her some day." 
 
 Shock hesitated, blushed, and then answered : " We 
 have no friends in the city, and we do not visit much, 
 and " 
 
 " Oh, I'U tell you, Miss Betty," burst in Brown. 
 " Get a sharp attack of typhoid and Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor will then come and see you. She's a great 
 nurse." 
 
 " That she is," said Shock enthusiastically. " She 
 would be glad to come." 
 
 rt Come along, Brown," broke in The Don. " We 
 are late now. Come along, Shock," and the three 
 men went off together, leaving Lloyd behind. 
 
 "Isn't he awful?" said Betty. "And didn't I 
 humiliate myself? " 
 
 "You certainly deserved humiliation, 5 * said her 
 Bister indignantly. " You might have seen he was 
 
A SOCIAL IMPOSSIBILITY 2$ 
 
 dreadfully shy, and you ought to have left him alone. 
 And now for my great idea. I will take you both 
 into my confidence. I am going to drive Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor to the match to-morrow." 
 
 " Splendid ! " exclaimed Betty. " And I'll go with 
 you. But how can you persuade her? " 
 
 " I have thought about that," said Helen. " We'll 
 ask Mr. Brown to drive around with us a little before, 
 and I'm sure she will go." 
 
 "Will you allow me to join the party?" humbly 
 asked Lloyd, " or is there someone else ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Betty, " we are sure to need somebody, 
 and you will do as well as any other." 
 
 In obedience to an invitation conveyed by Lloyd, 
 Brown appeared at the Fairbanks house in the early 
 morning. Eagerly the young ladies propounded 
 their plan. At once Brown entered heartily into it, 
 and calling with them in the afternoon persuaded the 
 old lady that she ought to attend the great match, 
 emphasising especially the fact that Shock would be 
 delighted to see her there, and would be stimulated to 
 do his very best by her presence. 
 
 " It will likely be his last game, too," urged Brown. 
 
 This finally decided the matter, and so it turned 
 out that perhaps the most enthusiastic, and certainly 
 the most picturesque, of all the groups that sur- 
 rounded the campus next day was that which filled thr 
 Fairbanks carriage, consisting of two young ladies, 
 an elegantly attired young man, and a quaint, plainly 
 dressed, but undeniably dignified, old lady. 
 
n 
 
 'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 
 
 IT is a glorious autumn day. The smoky air 
 with just a nip of the coining frost in it hangs 
 still over the trees, through whose bare tops and 
 interlacing boughs the genial sunlight falls in a 
 golden glory upon the grass below. The nip in the 
 air, the golden light, the thrilling uncertainty of the 
 coming match, the magnitude of the issue at stake, 
 combine to raise the ardour of football enthusiasts 
 to the highest pitch. 
 
 The record of each team is unique. Each has gone 
 through the championship series without a single 
 reverse. Perhaps never in their history have both 
 universities been more worthily represented than by 
 .the teams that are to contest to-day the championship 
 of the Dominion. 
 
 The McGill men are the first to appear on the 
 campus, and are welcomed with loud and generous 
 cheers, which are, however, redoubled upon the ap- 
 pearance of the 'Varsity champions. 
 
 Many eyes are turned upon the Fairbanks car- 
 riage. The young ladies are well known in Univer- 
 sity circles ; but the quaint old lady, looking so hand- 
 tome in spite of her plain black bonnet, awakens the 
 curiosity of the crowd, which only increases when it 
 becomes known that she is Shock's mother. 
 
 " Do you see Hamish, my dear? " inquires the old 
 
 24 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 25 
 
 lady. " They are so much alike I cannot distinguish 
 him." 
 
 " Go and bring him," cries Betty, and Lloyd re- 
 turns in a moment with Shock and little Brown. 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! This is awful. You won't like 
 it a bit. You'll think I'm getting killed many a time." 
 
 But the old lady only smiles placidly. " Indeed, 
 and I'm not afraid for you. Run away, Hamish, and 
 be careful of the laddies." 
 
 " Doirt tell him that, Mrs. Macgregor," pleads 
 Brown. " He's far too gentle as it is." 
 
 Some few minutes are spent in arranging for the 
 kick-off. 
 
 " Oh, I do wish they would start," exclaims Betty, 
 standing up in the carriage. " If they would only 
 start ! " she repeats. " I want to have a chance to 
 shriek." 
 
 " There they go ! " exelaims Lloyd. 
 
 It is McGill's kick. Huntingdon, the big captain 
 and centre forward, takes it magnificently, following 
 up hard with his whole team. Pepper, the 'Varsity full 
 back, however, is at the spot and returns into touch. 
 In the throw-in McGill secures the ball, and by a 
 swift rush makes fifteen or twenty feet, when, amid 
 the cheers of the spectators, both teams settle down 
 into their first scrimmage. 
 
 These are the days of close scrimmage play, when 
 nine men on each side put their heads down with the 
 ball between them, and shove for dear life. Picking 
 out, heeling out, or kicking out is strictly forbidden 
 and promptly penalised. 
 
26 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 The first scrimmage results in a dead ball. Once 
 more a scrimmage is formed, but again the result is 
 a dead ball. Over and over again this play is re- 
 peated with very little gain on either side. It gradu- 
 ally becomes apparent, however, that McGill in a 
 scrimmage is slightly heavier. Foot by foot they 
 work their way toward the 'Varsity goal. 
 
 The cries of " Hold them, 'Varsity ! Hold them, 
 'Varsity!" and, "You've got 'em, McGill! You've 
 got 'em!" indicate the judgment of the spectators. 
 
 "Ay," says the old lady, " they are a bit heavy for 
 them, I doubt." 
 
 " Who ! " inquires Betty, much amused. 
 
 " The Montreal lads. But we will be waiting a 
 meenute." 
 
 It is a very slow game for the crowds that line 
 every side of the field. Neither team will let the ball 
 out. Again and again the quarters nip up the 
 ball and pass, but the tackling is so hard and swift 
 that the halves cannot get away, and by passing 
 ground is almost always lost. 
 
 " Keep it in ! " is the word. Inch by inch towards 
 the 'Varsity goal the McGill forwards fight their 
 way. 
 
 Suddenly the McGill scrimmage weakens and breaks 
 up. Their quarter seizes the ball, passes it low and 
 swift to Bunch, who is off like the wind across the 
 field, dodges through the quarters, knocks off Martin 
 and Bate, and with The Don coming hard upon his 
 flank, sets off for the 'Varsity line with only Pepper 
 between him and a touch-down. 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 27 
 
 But Pepper is waiting for him, cool and steady. 
 As Bunch nears him he crouches like a cat, creeping 
 slowly to meet his coming foe. Ten feet from the 
 line straight at the full back goes Bunch. At two 
 paces distance he changes his mind and swerves to 
 the left with the hope of dodging past. 
 
 But he has ventured too far. Pepper takes two 
 short steps, and like a tiger springs at his foe, winds 
 his arms round his hips and drags him down, while 
 The Don from the side leaps fiercely on him and holds 
 the ball safe, five feet from the line. 
 
 'Varsity goes wild with relief. 
 
 " Pepper ! Pepper, ! Red hot Pepper ! " they chant 
 rapturously in enthusiastic groups here and there, as 
 Pepper's red head emerges from the crowd piled upon 
 him and the prostrate Bunch. Again and again rises 
 the chant, as the full back returns at a slow trot to 
 his place behind the line. 
 
 " Indeed, it is Pepper is the grand laddie,' ? says the 
 old lady approvingly. "Many's the game he has 
 saved, Hamish will be telling rne." 
 
 " Now, MeGill ! " calls out a Montreal man, leading 
 his fellows. " Stone wall ! Stone wall ! Shove 'em 
 in ! Shove 'em in ! " 
 
 But the 'Varsity captain is alive to his danger., and 
 getting his men low down he determines to hold the 
 enemy fast till the fury of their attack be somewhat 
 spent, or till fortune shall bring him aid. 
 
 " Get up ! Get up there, 'Varsity ! " yells the MeGill 
 contingent. 
 
 " Look at 'em saying their prayers ! " shouts a boy. 
 
28 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " They need to," answers another. 
 
 " Get up, 'Varsity ! Get up ! Don't be afraid ! " they 
 yell derisively. 
 
 " Make 'em stand up, referee," a Montreal man 
 insists. 
 
 Again and again the McGill captain appeals to the 
 referee, who remonstrates, urges, and finally orders 
 the 'Varsity to get up or be penalised. 
 
 Campbell perceives that something must be done, 
 He moves Shock from the centre to the left wing of 
 the scrimmage and calls in Martin and Bate from 
 half. 
 
 By this time every 'Varsity man is on his feet, for 
 he knows that Shock is about to lead the " screw " and 
 before the scrimmage is well formed the MeGill stone 
 wall is broken, and Campbell is boring through it 
 with the ba 1, gaining a good ten feet and by a quick 
 re-form ten more. 
 
 " Man, man, take heed. Yon's a dangerous game, 
 I'm thinking," murmurs Shock's mother anxiously, to 
 the amazed amusement of Lloyd, who replies, " Why, 
 Mrs. Macgregor, you seem to know the game as well 
 as the rest of us." 
 
 " Ay, Hamish has often showed me the working of 
 the screw, and it is not to be depended upon in a 
 place like yon." 
 
 The 'Varsity team breathe freely again and go in 
 with new vim, while McGill settles down on the ball to 
 recover steadiness. 
 
 But the 'Varsity captain has seen the screw work 
 and resolves to try it again. Once more he moves 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 29 
 
 Shock to the wing, signals to the quarters, and again 
 the Montreal stone wall is demoralised. But instead 
 of Campbell boring over the prostrate form of his 
 big centre with the ball the McGill captain, securing 
 it, passes to Carroll, his quarter, who dashing off as 
 a feint to the right, passes far across the field to 
 Bunch on the left. 
 
 Bunch as usual is in his place, catches beautifully 
 and is off down the field like a whirlwind, dodging 
 one, knocking off another, running round a third, till 
 between him and the goal line he has only the half 
 back, Martin, and the full. 
 
 The McGill people go wild again. " Bunch ! 
 Bunch ! " they yell frantically, crowding down the 
 line after him. " He's in ! He's in ! " 
 
 But not yet. Red Pepper is swiftly bearing down 
 upon him, and as he comes within reach springs at 
 him. But the wily Bunch has learned to measure that 
 long reach, and dodging back sharply, he slips round 
 Pepper and makes for the line ten yards away. 
 
 A long groan goes up from the 'Varsity sup- 
 port, while from a hundred McGill throats rises the 
 cry again "He's in! He's in! A touch! A 
 touch!" 
 
 But close upon him, and gaining at every foot, is 
 The Don, the fleetest man in the 'Varsity team. For 
 half a second it looks as if Bunch must make the 
 line, but within three yards of the goal, and just as 
 he is about to throw himself toward it, Balf our shoots 
 out his arm, grasps his enemy by the back of the 
 neck, and turning round, hurls him back with terrific 
 
80 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 force to the ground and clambers on top of him. It 
 is a fierce tackle, giving great satisfaction to all the 
 'Varsity supporters, but to none more than to Mrs. 
 Macgregor, who, as she sees the unfortunate Bunch 
 hurled to earth, exclaims with quiet satisfaction, 
 " That will be doing for ye, I'm thinking." 
 
 "Isn't she a great old warrior? " says Lloyd aside, 
 to the young ladies. 
 
 "The Don! The Don!" cry the 'Varsity con- 
 tingent, "We like Don! We like Don !" they 
 chant, surging across the corner of the field in the 
 wildest enthusiasm. 
 
 "Keep back! Keep back! Give him air." The 
 referee, and the captains with their teams, push the 
 crowd back, for Bunch is lying motionless upon 
 the ground. 
 
 " It's simply a case of wind," says little Carroll, 
 the McGill quarter, lightly. 
 
 * " The want of it, you mean," says big Mooney, 
 hauling Carroll back by the neck. 
 
 In a few minutes, however, the plucky McGill half 
 back is up again, and once more the scrimmage is 
 formed. 
 
 Gradually it grows more evident that McGill is 
 heavier in the scrimmage, but this advantage is offset 
 by the remarkable boring quality of the 'Varsity cap- 
 tain, who, upon the break up of a scrimmage, gener- 
 ally succeeds in making a few feet, frequently over 
 Shock's huge body. As for Shock, he apparently 
 enjoys being walked upon by his captain, and 
 emerges from each successive scrimmage with his yel- 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 31 
 
 low hair fiercely erect, his face covered with blood, 
 and always wreathed in smiles. No amount of hack- 
 ing and scragging in a scrimmage can damp his 
 ardour or ruffle the serenity of his temper. 
 
 "Isn't he ghastly?" exclaims Lloyd to the young 
 ladies at his side. 
 
 "Perfectly lovely!" cries Betty in return. 
 
 " Ah, the old story of the bloodthirsty sex," replies 
 Lloyd. " Hello, there goes half time," he adds, " and 
 no score yet. This is truly a great game." Eagerly 
 the men are taken charge of by their respective 
 attendants, stripped, rubbed, slapped, and sponged. 
 
 Up come Shock and Brown. The blood on Shock's 
 face gives him a terrifying appearance. 
 
 " Oh ! " cries Helen anxiously, " you are hurt." 
 
 "Net a bit," he replies cheerily, glancing in sur- 
 prise at her. 
 
 "How do you like it, Mrs Macgregor?" inquires 
 Brown. * 
 
 "Man, laddie, they are a grand team, and it ^u 
 be no easy matter to wheep them." 
 
 "Don't you think now that Shock is a little too 
 gentle with them ? " asks Brown wickedly. 
 
 "Well, it will not do to allow them to have their 
 own way altogether," she replies cautiously. " But 
 run away, Hamish, and get yourself put right. There 
 is much before you yet." 
 
 " Say, old man," says Brown as they trot off, " it's 
 no credit to you to be a great centre. You'd dis- 
 grace your blood if you were anything else." 
 
 Into the 'Varsity dressing room strolls old Black, 
 
32 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 the greatest captain of the greatest team 'Varsity 
 has ever seen. 
 
 " Well, old chap," he calls out cheerfully to Camp- 
 bell, "how goes it?" 
 
 " All right," says Campbell. " They are a great 
 team, but I think we are holding them." 
 
 "They are the greatest team McGill ever sent 
 here," replies Black. 
 
 "Oh, thanks, awfully," says Campbell, "but they 
 are hardly up to the team of four years ago." 
 
 " Quite, I assure you, and you are holding them 
 down." 
 
 "Do you think so?" There was no anxiety in 
 the captain's tone, but there was a serious earnestness 
 that somehow caught the ear of all the men in the 
 room. 
 
 Black noticed it. 
 
 " Yes, you are holding them so far, without a doubt. 
 Their weight tells in the scrimmage, and of course 
 we do not know their back play yet, and that fellow 
 Bunch Cameron is a wonder." 
 
 "That's what!" sings out little Brown. "But 
 what's the matter with The Don?" 
 
 Immediately the roar comes back, "He's all 
 right!" 
 
 " Yes," replies Black quietly, " Balf our is swifter, 
 and harder in tackle." 
 
 " Have you anything to suggest ?" asks Campbell, 
 with a reverence which a man in the struggle feels for 
 one who has achieved. The men are all quiet, listen- 
 ing. But Black knows his place. 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 33 
 
 " Not in the least. You have a great team, and 
 you are handling them perfectly." 
 
 " Hear that now, will you ? " cries little Brown. 
 "We're It!" 
 
 "Do you think we had better open up a little?" 
 But Black is a gentleman and knows better than to 
 offer advice. 
 
 " I really cannot offer an opinion. You know your 
 men better than I. Besides, it is better to find out 
 your enemy's tactics than to be too stuck on your 
 own. Remember, those fellows are doing some think- 
 ing at this blessed minute. Of course," he went on 
 hesitatingly, " if they keep playing the same close 
 game well you might try that is you have got 
 a great defence, you know, and The Don can run 
 away from any of them." 
 
 "All right," said the captain. "We'll feel 'em 
 first, boys. Keep at the old game. Close and steady 
 till we get inside their heads. Watch their quarters. 
 They're lightning in a pass." 
 
 It turns out that old Black is right. The McGills 
 have been doing some thinking. From the kick-off 
 they abandon the close scrimmage for a time, playing 
 an open, dribbling, punting game, and they are play- 
 ing it superbly. While they are sure in their catch- 
 ing and fierce in their tackle, their specialty is punting 
 and following up. In this they are exceedingly dan- 
 gerous. For the first ten minutes the 'Varsity men 
 are forced within their own twenty-five yard line and 
 are put upon their defence. The quarters and for- 
 wards begin to " back," a sure sign of coming doom. 
 
34 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " What in thunder are you doing back here ! " roars 
 Martin to little Brown. " Do you see anything 
 wrong with this line ? " 
 
 Nothing so maddens a half back as to see the for- 
 ward line fall back into defence. Little Brown, 
 accepting his rebuke with extraordinary meekness, 
 abandons the defence and with the other quarters and 
 forwards, who had been falling back, goes up where 
 Campbell and Shock are doing their best to break the 
 punting game and are waiting their chance for a 
 run. 
 
 Every moment is dangerous; for the McGills have 
 the spirit of victory strong upon them, and from their 
 supporters on the side lines the triumphant and ex- 
 asperating refrain is rising: 
 
 " Got 'em going, going, going, 
 Got 'em going home." 
 
 And indeed for a few minutes it looks like it. Again 
 and again the McGill forward line, fed carefully and 
 judiciously by their defence, rush to the attack, and 
 it is all Campbell can do to hold his men in place. 
 Seizing the opportunity of a throw-in for 'Varsity, 
 he passes the word to his halves and quarters, " Don't 
 give away the ball. Hold and run. Don't pass," 
 and soon he has the team steady again and ready for 
 aggressive work. Before long, by resolutely refus- 
 ing to kick or pass and by close, hard tackling, 'Var- 
 sity forces McGill to abandon open play, and once 
 more the game settles down into the old, terrible, 
 grinding scrimmage. 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 35 
 
 " Oh, why don't they let The Don have it?" ex- 
 claims Betty. " I am sure he could get through." 
 
 The crowd seem to hold the same opinion, for they 
 begin to call out, " Let it out, Alec. Let The Don 
 have it." 
 
 But Campbell still plays cautiously a close game. 
 His men are staying well, and he is conscious of a re- 
 serve in his back line that he can call upon at the 
 fitting moment. For that moment, however, he waits 
 anxiously, for while his scrim is playing with bulldog 
 grit it is losing snap. True, Shock comes out of 
 every tussle bloody, serene, and smiling as usual, but 
 the other men are showing the punishment of the last 
 hour's terrible scrimmage. The extra weight of the 
 McGill line is beginning surely to tell. 
 
 It is an anxious moment for the 'Varsity captain, 
 for any serious weakening of the scrimmage line is 
 disastrous to the morals of a team. 
 
 " You are holding them all right, old chap," says 
 old Black, taking advantage of a pause in the play 
 while little Brown's leg is being rubbed into 
 suppleness. 
 
 " I'd like to open out, but I'm afraid to do it," re- 
 plies Campbell. 
 
 14 Well, I think your back line h safe enough. 
 Their scrimmage is gaining on you. I almost think 
 you might venture to try a pass game." 
 
 It is upon the passing of his back line that Camp- 
 bell has in previous matches depended for winning, 
 and with ordinary opponents he would have adopted 
 long ago this style of play, but these McGill men are 
 
86 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 so hard upon the ball, so deadly in tackling, and so 
 sure in their catch that he hesitates to give them the 
 opportunities that open play affords. But he has 
 every confidence in The Don, his great half back ; he 
 has never played him in any match where he has not 
 proved himself superior to everything in the field, and 
 he resolves to give him a chance. 
 
 At this moment something happens, no one knows 
 how. A high punt from behind sends the ball far up 
 into the 'Varsity territory, and far before all others 
 Bunch, who seems to have a kind of uncanny instinct 
 for what is going to happen, catches the ball on the 
 bound and makes for the 'Varsity line with a compara- 
 tively open field before him. Fifteen yards from the 
 line he is tackled by Martin, but ere he falls passes to 
 Huntingdon, his captain, who, catching neatly and 
 dodging between Campbell and another 'Varsity man, 
 hurls his huge weight upon Pepper, who is waiting 
 for him, crouched low after his usual style. 
 
 The full back catches him fairly and throws him 
 over his shoulder. As both come heavily to the 
 ground there is a sickening crack heard over the field. 
 The McGill captain, with Pepper hanging desper- 
 ately to his hips, drags himself over the line and 
 secures a touchdown for McGill. 
 
 At once there rises a wild tumult of triumph from 
 the McGill contingent, but after a minute or two the 
 noise is followed by an anxious hush, and when the 
 crowd about the prostrate players is dispersed Pepper 
 is seen lying on his face tearing up the grass. Two 
 or three doctors rush in from the crowd, and before 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 37 
 
 long Pepper is carried off the field. His leg is 
 broken. 
 
 A number of people begin to leave the field. 
 
 " Oh, isn't it horrible," groans Betty, turning very 
 pale. " Shall we go home, Mrs. Macgregor? " 
 
 Helen looks at the old lady anxiously. 
 
 " Here is Hamish," she replies quickly. " We will 
 wait.' 9 
 
 Shock runs up, much disturbed. 
 
 " Awful, is it not ? " he says to Helen, who is the 
 first to meet him. " I am sorry, mother, you are 
 here." 
 
 "Will they be stopping, think you, Hamish? " 
 asks his mother. There is a shade of anxiety in her 
 voice. 
 
 " No, mother, we must play it out." 
 
 " Then I will just be waiting for the end," says the 
 old lady calmly. " Poor laddie but he was bravely 
 defending his post. And you must just be going, 
 Hamish man." 
 
 As Shock moved off the young ladies and Lloyd 
 looked at her in amazement. It was in some such 
 spirit that she had sent her husband to his last fight 
 twenty years ago. 
 
 A cloud of grief and foreboding settles down upon 
 the 'Varsity team, for Pepper is not only a great 
 favourite with them, but as a full back they have 
 learned to depend upon him. Huntingdon is full of 
 regrets, and at once offers Campbell and the referee 
 to forego the touchdown, and to scrimmage at the 
 point of tackle. 
 
38 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " He would have held me, I know, bar the accident/' 
 he says. 
 
 The referee is willing, but Campbell will not hear 
 of it 
 
 " Put off a man," he says shortly, " and go on with 
 the game." 
 
 Bate is moved from half to full, a man is taken 
 from the scrimmage to supply his place, McGili makes 
 a similar shift, and the game proceeds. 
 
 Huntingdon fails to convert the touchdown into a 
 goal. Bate kicks back into touch, and with desperate 
 determination 'Varsity goes in to even the score. 
 
 Campbell resolves now to abandon the close game. 
 He has everything to win, and to lose by four points 
 is as much a loss as by a dozen. 
 
 "Play to your halves every time," he orders the 
 quarters, and no sooner is play begun than the wis- 
 dom of the plan is seen. With a brilliant series of 
 passes the 'Varsity quarters and halves work the ball 
 through the McGili twenty-five line, and by following 
 hard a high punt, force the enemy to a safety touch. 
 No sooner has the McGili captain kicked off than the 
 ball is returned and again McGili is forced to 
 rouge. 
 
 The score now stands four to two in favour of Mc- 
 Gili, but the 'Varsity men have come to their strongest 
 and are playing with an aggressiveness that cannot be 
 denied. Again and again they press their opponents 
 behind their twenty-five line. 
 
 " Oh," exclaims Betty, " if there is only time they 
 can win yet. Do find out," she says to Lloyd, " what 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 39 
 
 time there is left." And Lloyd comes back to an- 
 nounce that there are only six minutes to play. 
 
 " Hamish will be telling me that a game is often 
 won in the last minute," remarks the old lady encour- 
 agingly. 
 
 As Campbell perceives his desperate case, he begins 
 to swear low, fierce oaths at his quarters. In all their 
 experience of their captain the 'Varsity men have 
 never heard him swear, and they awake to the fact 
 that they are face to face with a situation entirely un- 
 paralleled in their history as a team. They are being 
 defeated, and about to lose their one chance of the 
 proud distinction of holding the championship of 
 Canada. 
 
 From man to man Campbell goes as he finds oppor- 
 tunity, his face white, his eyes ablaze, adjuring, urg- 
 ing, entreating, commanding, in a way quite unusual 
 with him. 
 
 A new spirit seizes the men. Savagely they press 
 the enemy. They are never off the ball, but follow 
 it as hounds a hare, and tfcey fling themselves so 
 fiercely at their foe that in every tackle a McGill 
 man goes down to earth. 
 
 But try as they may it seems impossible to get the 
 ball to The Don. The McGill men have realised their 
 danger and have men specially detailed to block the 
 great 'Varsity half. Again and again The Don re- 
 ceives the ball, but before he can get away these men 
 are upon him. 
 
 At length, however, the opportunity comes. By a 
 low, swift pass from Brown, Martin receives the ball 
 
4<0 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 and immediately transfers it to The Don. Straight 
 into the midst of a crowd of McGill men he plunges, 
 knocking off the hands reaching for him, slipping 
 through impossible apertures, till he emerges at the 
 McGill line with little Carroll hanging on to his 
 shoulders, and staggering across falls fairly into the 
 arms of big Mooney. 
 
 Down they go all three together, with hands on the 
 ball. 
 
 "What is it? Oh, what is it?" shrieks Betty, 
 springing upon the box. 
 
 " I am thinking it is what they will be calling a 
 maul In goal, and it is a peety we cannot be seeing it," 
 replies the dauntless old lady. 
 
 " Oh, it's The Don," exclaims Betty anxiously. 
 " What are they doing to him ? Run, oh, run and 
 see ! " and Lloyd runs off. 
 
 " It's a maul sure enough. Two of them have The 
 Don down," he announces, " but he'll hold all right/ 5 
 he adds quickly, glancing keenly at Betty. 
 
 " Let me go," cried Betty. " I must go." 
 
 " Betty," says Helen, in a low voice, " be quiet." 
 
 " Oh, I don't care," cries Betty passionately. " I 
 want to go." 
 
 " He'll hold all right," says Lloyd confidently, and 
 Betty grows suddenly quiet. 
 
 " Ay, that he will, yon chap," agrees Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor, standing up and trying to see what is 
 going on. 
 
 "If The Don can hold for three minutes it will 
 count two for his side; if Mooney and Carroll can 
 
VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 41 
 
 get the ball away it will only count one," explained 
 Lloyd. 
 
 About the three players struggling on the ground 
 the crowd pours itself, yelling, urging, imploring, 
 shrieking directions. Campbell stoops down over Th 
 Don and shouts into his ear. " Hold on, Don. It 
 means the game," and The Don, lying on his back, 
 winds his arms round the ball and sets himself to resist 
 the efforts of Mooney and Carroll to get it away. 
 
 In vain the police and field censors try to keep back 
 the crowd. They are swept helpless into the centre. 
 Madder and wilder grows the tumult, while the referee 
 stands, watch in hand, over the struggling three. 
 
 " Stop that choking, Carroll," says Shock to the 
 little quarter, who is gripping The Don hard about 
 the throat. 
 
 " Get off, Mooney," cries Campbell. " Get off his 
 chest with your knees. Get off, I say, or I'll knock 
 your head off." 
 
 But Mooney persists in boring into The Don's 
 stomach with his knees, tugging viciously at the ball. 
 With a curse Campbell springs at him. But as he 
 springs a dozen hands reach for him. There is a 
 wild rush of twenty men for each other's throats. 
 Too close to strike they can only choke and scrag and 
 hack each other fiercely. The policemen push in, 
 threatening with their batons, and there is a prospect 
 of a general fight when the. referee's whistle goes. 
 Time is up. The maul is over. 'Varsity has its two 
 points. The score now stand even, four to four, with 
 two minutes to play. 
 
42 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 They lift The Don from the ground. His breath 
 is coming in gasps and he is trembling with the tre- 
 mendous exertions of the last three minutes. 
 
 " Time there ! " calls out Shock, who has Balf our 
 in his arms. 
 
 The smile is all gone from Shock's face. As he 
 watches The Don struggling in deep gasps to re- 
 cover his breath, for the first time in his football life 
 he loses himself. He hands his friend to a couple of 
 men standing near, strides over to Mooney, and catch- 
 ing him by the throat begins to shove him back 
 through the crowd. 
 
 "You brute, you!" he roars. "What kind of a 
 game do you call that! Jumping on a man when he 
 is down, with your knees! For very little," he con- 
 tinues, struggling to get his arm free from the men 
 who are hanging on it, " I would knock your face off." 
 
 Men from both sides throw themselves upon Shock 
 and his foe and tear them apart. 
 
 " That's all right, Shock." cries The Don, laugh- 
 ing between his gasps, and Shock, suddenly coming to 
 himself, slinks shamefacedly into the crowd. 
 
 "It is not often Hamish forgets himself in yon 
 fashion," says his mother, shaking her head. " He 
 must be sorely tried indeed," she adds confidently. 
 
 " I ain quite sure of it," replies Helen. " He 
 always comes out smiling." And the old lady looks 
 at her approvingly a moment, and says, " Indeed, and 
 you are right, lassie/* 
 
 In a few minutes The Don is as fit as ever, and 
 slapping Shock on the back says pleasantly, "Come 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 43 
 
 along, old fire-eater. We've got to win this game 
 yet," and Shock goes off with him, still looking much 
 ashamed. 
 
 McGill kicks from the twenty-five line, but before 
 the scrimmage that follows is over time is called, with 
 an even score. 
 
 The crowd streams on the field tumultuously en- 
 thusiastic over a game such as has never been seen on 
 that campus. Both sides are eager to go on, and it 
 is arranged that the time be extended half an hour. 
 
 Old Black gets Campbell aside and urges, "Take 
 ten minutes off and get your men into quarters." 
 Campbell takes his advice and the rubbers get vig- 
 orously to work at legs and loins, rubbing, sponging, 
 slapping, until the men declare themselves fresh as 
 ever. 
 
 " Not hurt, Don ? " inquires Campbell anxiously. 
 
 " Not a bit," says The Don. " It didn't bother 
 me at all. I was winded, you see, before I fell." 
 
 "Well," says Campbell, "we're going to give 
 you a chance now. There's only one thing to do, 
 men. Rush 9 em. They play best in attack, and our 
 defence is safe enough. What do you say, Black ? " 
 
 "I entirely agree. But begin steady. I should 
 use your whole half back line, however, for a while. 
 They will lay for Balfour there." 
 
 " That's right," says the captain. " Begin steady 
 and pass to Martin and McLaren for the first while, 
 and then everyone give The Don a chance. 
 
 " And Shock," calls out little Brown, " don't be a 
 fool, and stop fighting," at which everybody roars 
 
44 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 except Shock himself, who, ashamed of his recent 
 display of temper, hurries off to the field. 
 
 Once more the campus is cleared. Battered and 
 bloody as to features, torn and dishevelled as to attire, 
 but all eager and resolved, the teams again line up, 
 knowing well that they have before them a half hour 
 such as they have never yet faced in all their football 
 career. 
 
 It is 'Varsity's kick. Campbell takes it carefully, 
 and places it in touch well within the McGill twenty- 
 five. After the throw in, the teams settle down to 
 scrimmage as steady as at the first, with this dif- 
 ference, however, that 'Varsity shows perceptibly 
 weaker. Back step by step their scrimmage is forced 
 toward the centre, the retreat counterbalanced some- 
 what by the splendid individual boring of Campbell 
 and Shock. But both teams are alert and swift at 
 the quarters, fierce in tackle and playing with amazing 
 steadiness. 
 
 Suddenly Carroll nips up the ball and passes hard 
 and swift to the half back immediately behind him, 
 who in turn passes far out to Bunch on the left wing. 
 With a beautiful catch Bunch, never slacking speed, 
 runs round the crowd, dodges the quarters, knocks off 
 Martin, and with a crowd of men of both teams close 
 upon his heels, makes for the line. 
 
 Before him stands Bate alone. From his tall, lank 
 make one might easily think him none too secure on 
 his legs. Bunch determines to charge, and like a 
 little bull rushes full at him. 
 
 But Bate's whole football life has been one long 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 45 
 
 series of deceptions, and so he is quite prepared for 
 this kind of attack. As Bunch comes at him he 
 steps lightly aside, catches the half back about the 
 neck, swings him round and lands him prone with 
 such terrific impact^ that the ball flies out of his 
 grasp. 
 
 Immediately little Brown has it, passes to Martin, 
 who on being tackled passes to The Don. The field 
 before him is full of the enemy, but The Don never 
 hesitates. Doubling, twisting, knocking off, he 
 eludes man after man, while the crowds on the line 
 grow more and more frantic, and at length, clearing 
 the main body, he sets off across the field to more open 
 country on the 'Varsity left< Behind him come 
 Campbell, Shock, Martin and others, following hard ; 
 before him stand three of the McGill defence. Do- 
 rion, McDonnell, and Mooney. He has already made 
 a great run, and it looks as if he cannot possibly make 
 through. 
 
 First Dorion springs at him, but The Don's open 
 hand at the end of a rigid arm catches him full in 
 the neck, and Dorion goes down like a stick. 
 
 Big McDonnell bears swiftly down upon him and 
 leaps high at him, but The Don lowers his shoulder, 
 catches McDonnell below the wind and slides him 
 over his back ; but before he can get up speed again 
 little Carroll is clutching at his hips, and Mooney, 
 the McGill full back, comes rushing at him. Swing- 
 ing round, The Don shakes Carroll partly off, and 
 with that fierce downward cut of his arm which is his 
 special trick, sends the little quarter flying, and just 
 
46 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 as Mooney tackles, passes the ball over his shoulder 
 to Shock, who is immediately pounced upon by half 
 a dozen McGill men, but who, ere he is held, passes to 
 Campbell, who in turn works forward a few yards, and 
 again on being tackled, passes to The Don. It is a 
 magnificent bit of play. 
 
 The spectators have long since passed all bounds of 
 control, and are pouring on the field, yelling like mad 
 people. Even the imperturbable old lady loses her 
 calm for a moment, and griping Helen's arm ex- 
 claims, " Look at that, now ! Man, man, yon is a 
 grand laddie." 
 
 There is no chance for The Don to run, for a 
 swarm of the McGill men stand between him and the 
 line only a few yards off. Then he does the only 
 possible thing. Putting his head down he plunges 
 into the crowd in front of him. 
 
 " Come on, Shock," yells Campbell. Instantly a 
 dozen 'Varsity men respond to the cry and fall in be- 
 hind Campbell and Shock, who, locking arms about 
 The Don, are shoving him through for dear life. 
 
 There are two minutes of fierce struggle. Twenty 
 men in a mass, kicking, scragging, fighting, but 
 slowly moving toward the McGill line, while behind 
 them and around them the excited spectators wildly, 
 madly yelling, leaping, imploring, adjuring by all 
 kinds of weird oaths to " shove " or to " hold." In 
 vain the McGill men throw themselves in the way of 
 the advancing mass. Steadily, irresistibly the move- 
 ment goes on. They are being beaten and they 
 know it. 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 47 
 
 *'Down! down!" yells big Huntingdon, dropping 
 on his knees on the line in front of the tramping, kick- 
 ing 'Varsity phalanx. 
 
 A moment's pause, and there is a mass of mingling 
 arms, legs, heads and bodies, piled on the goal line. 
 
 "Held! held!" yell the McGill men and their sup- 
 porters. 
 
 But before the referee can respond Shock seizes 
 The Don below the waist, lifts him clear of the mob, 
 and trampling on friend and foe alike, projects him 
 over the struggling mass beyond the enemy's line, 
 where he is immediately buried beneath a swarm of 
 McGill men, who savagely jump upon him and jam 
 his head and body into the turf. 
 
 "He's in! he's in!" shrieks Betty, wildly waving 
 her hand. 
 
 "Will it be a win, think ye?" anxiously inquires 
 Shock's mother. "It will hardly be that, I doubt. 
 But, eh h, yon's the lad." 
 
 " Down ! down ! " cries the 'Varsity captain. " Get 
 off the man ! Get off the man ! Let him up, there ! " 
 
 But the McGill men are slow to move. 
 
 " Get up ! " roars Shock, picking them off and hurl- 
 ing them aside. 
 
 "Get up, men! Get up! That ball is down," 
 yells the referee through the din, into the ears of 
 those who are holding The Don in a death grip. 
 
 With difficulty they are persuaded to allow him to 
 rise. When he stands up, breathless, bleeding at the 
 mouth, but otherwise sound, the crowd of 'Varsity 
 admirers go ,*ato a riot of rapture, throwing up caps, 
 
8 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 hugging each other in ecstatic war dances, while the 
 team walk quietly about recovering their wind, and 
 resisting the efforts of their friends to elevate them. 
 
 "Quit it!" growls Campbell. "Get off the field! 
 Get back, you hoodlums ! " 
 
 Meantime Huntingdon is protesting to the referee. 
 
 "I claim that ball was fairly held, back there. 
 Balfour was brought to a dead stand." 
 
 " How do you know, Huntingdon ? " returns Camp- 
 bell. "Your head was down in the scrim." 
 
 " I could see his legs. I know his boots." 
 
 It is true that The Don has a peculiar toe on his 
 boots. 
 
 "Oh," jeers Campbell scornfully, "that's all rot, 
 you know, Huntingdon." 
 
 "Look here, Campbell, listen to what I say. I 
 want you to remember I am speaking the truth." 
 
 Huntingdon's quiet tone has its effect. 
 
 " I would never think of challenging your word,* 9 
 replies Campbell, "but I think it is quite impossible 
 that you could absolutely know that The Don came 
 to a dead stand." 
 
 "I repeat, I can pick out Balfour's boots from a 
 whole crowd, and I know he was brought to a stand. 
 I am prepared to swear that. Can any man swear 
 to the contrary ? " 
 
 "Why, certainly," cries Campbell, "half a dozen 
 men can. There's Shock, who was right behind 
 him." 
 
 But Shock thus appealed to, hesitates. He has an 
 unfortunate conscience. 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 49 
 
 " I can't say for sure," he says, looking piteously 
 at his captain. 
 
 " Weren't you moving all the time, Shock? 9 ' 
 
 "Weil, I was shoving all the time." 
 
 " But hold on," says Huntingdon. " Will you say 
 that Balfour was never brought to a stand? Will 
 you swear that?" 
 
 "Well, I cannot say for sure," replies Shock in 
 great distress. " It was not very long, anyway." 
 
 Yells of triumphant laughter break from the Mc- 
 Gill crowd. 
 
 The referee is in great difficulty. He has a reputa- 
 tion for courage and fairness. He hesitates a moment 
 or two, and then, while the crowd wait breathless for 
 his decision, says, " You can all see that it is almost 
 impossible to be certain, but on the whole I shall give 
 ft a 'hold.'" 
 
 It was a bitter moment to the 'Varsity men, but 
 Campbell is a true sport. 
 
 " Shut up, men," he says in answer to the loud 
 protests of his team. " Get behind the ball." 
 
 Every second is precious now, and the line is only 
 three feet away. 
 
 Again the field is cleared. The teams, springing 
 to their places in the scrimmage, began to shove 
 furiously before the ball is in play. 
 
 " Get up, men ! " says the referee. " You must 
 get up. Let me get this ball in. Get up, McGill! 
 Get off your knees ! " for the McGill men are on their 
 goal line in an attitude of devotion. 
 
 Again and again the scrimmage is formed, only to 
 
50 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 be broken by the eagerness of the combatants. At 
 length the referee succeeds in placing the ball. In- 
 stantly Shock is upon it, and begins to crawl toward 
 the line with half a dozen men on his back, gripping 
 him by nose, ears, face, throat, wherever a hand can 
 find a vulnerable spot. 
 
 " Hold there ! " calls the referee. " 'Varsity ball." 
 
 " Get off the man ! Get off ! " cry the 'Varsity men, 
 pulling the McGill fellows by legs and heads, till at 
 length Shock rises from the bottom of the heap, 
 grimy, bloody, but smiling, grimly holding to the ball. 
 He has made six inches. The line is two feet and 
 a half away. 
 
 It is again 'Varsity's ball, however, and that means 
 a great deal, for with Campbell lies the choice of the 
 moment for attack. 
 
 Placing Shock on the wing, and summoning his 
 halves and quarters, Campbell prepares for a supreme 
 effort. It is obviously the place for the screw. 
 
 The McGill men are down, crouching on hands and 
 feet, some on their knees. 
 
 Campbell refuses to play and appeals to the referee 
 in a tone of righteous indignation, "What sort of 
 game is this ? Look at those fellows ! " 
 
 "Get up McGill! Get up, or I'll penalise you, 5 ' 
 says the referee. Everyone knows he will keep his 
 word. There is a movement on the part of McGill 
 to rise. Campbell seizes the opportunity, lowers his 
 head, and with a yell drops the ball in front of Shock. 
 In the whirl of the screw the ball slips out to Brown, 
 who tips it to The Don, but before he can take a 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 51 
 
 single step half a dozen men are upon him and he is 
 shoved back a couple of feet. 
 
 "Man, man," ejaculates the old lady, "will you 
 not be careful!" 
 
 " I say ! " exclaims old Black to a McGill enthusiast 
 whom he had fought in the famous championship bat- 
 tle four years ago. " This is something like." 
 
 " Great ball," replies his friend. " We'll hold them 
 yet. I've often seen a ball forced back from two 
 feet off the line." 
 
 It is still the 'Varsity ball. The crowds are howl- 
 ing like maniacs, while the policeman and field censors 
 are vainly trying to keep the field decently clear. 
 
 The Don resigns the ball to the captain and falls 
 in behind. Every man is wet, panting, disfigured, 
 but eager for the fight. Again the scrim forms, only 
 to fall upon the ball. 
 
 " Dead ball," announces the referee, and both teams 
 begin to manoeuvre for advantage of position. A few 
 inches is a serious thing. 
 
 Again the ball is placed and the men throw them- 
 selves upon it, Shock as usual at the bottom of the 
 heap with the ball under him. 
 
 Old Black runs up through the crowd and whispers 
 in Campbell's ear, "Put Balfour and Martin in the 
 scrim. They are fresher." He has noticed that the 
 scrim line on both sides is growing stale, and can do 
 no more than grimly hold on. At once Campbell sees 
 the wisdom of this suggestion. The Don, though not 
 so heavy as Shock, is quite as strong, and is quicker 
 v than the big centre, who is beginning to show the 
 
52 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 effect of the tremendous series of scrimmages he has 
 just passed through. Martin, though neither so 
 strong nor so heavy, is like an eeL 
 
 Quietly Campbell thrusts the halves into the first 
 line on the right, whispering to Shock, " Let Balf our 
 have it, and back him up." 
 
 As The Don gets the ball Campbell throws him- 
 self behind him with the yell, " 'Varsity ! now ! " At 
 the same instant The Don drops the ball, and with the 
 weight of the whole team behind him begins to bore 
 through the enemy. 
 
 For a few moments both teams hang in the balance, 
 neither giving an inch, when old Black, yelling and 
 waving wildly, attracts the attention of Bate. 
 
 " Go in ! " he cries. " Go in ! " and Bate, coming 
 up with a rush, throws himself behind the scrim. 
 
 His weight turns the scale. Slowly at first, but 
 gaining momentum with every inch, the mass yields, 
 sways, and begins to move. The McGill men, shov- 
 ing, hacking, scragging, fighting fiercely, finally 
 dropping on their knees, strive to check that relent- 
 less advance. It is in vain. Their hour has come. 
 
 With hoarse cries, regardless of kicks and blows, 
 trampling on prostrate foes, and followed by a mob 
 of spectators tumultuously cheering, the 'Varsity 
 wedge cleaves its way, till on the other side The Don 
 appears with the ball hugged to his breast and Hunt- 
 ingdon hanging to his throat. A final rush and the 
 ball is down. 
 
 " The ball is down ! " cries the referee, and almost 
 immediately time is called. 
 
'VARSITY VERSUS McGILL 53 
 
 The great match is over. By four points 'Varsity 
 holds the championship of the Dominion. 
 
 " The greatest match ever played on this ground," 
 cries old Black, pushing through the crowd to Camp- 
 bell, with both hands outstretched. 
 
 After him comes the Montreal captain. 
 
 " I congratulate you most heartily," he says, in a 
 voice that breaks in spite of all he can do. 
 
 " Thanks, old man," says Campbell quietly. " It 
 was a case of sheer luck." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," replies Huntingdon, recovering 
 himself. "You have a great team. I never saw a 
 better." 
 
 "Well," replies Campbell heartily, "I have just 
 seen as good, and there's none we would rather win 
 from than McGill." 
 
 ''And none," replies Huntingdon^ " McGill would 
 rather lick than 'Varsity." 
 
 Meantime Shock, breaking from a crowd of ad* 
 mirers who are bound to carry him in on their 
 shoulders, makes for the Fairbanks carriage, and 
 greets his mother quietly. 
 
 " Well, mother, it's over at last." 
 
 " Ay, it is. Poor fellows, they will be feeling bad. 
 But come along, laddie. You will be needing your 
 supper, I doubt." 
 
 Shock laughs loud. He knows his mother, and 
 needs no words to tell him her heart is bursting with 
 pride and triumph. 
 
 " Come in. Let us have the glorj of driving you 
 home," cries Betty. 
 
54r THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "In this garb?" laughs Shock. 
 
 " That's the garb of your glory," says Helen, her 
 fine eyes lustrous with excitement. 
 
 " Come, Hamish man, you will get your things and 
 we will be waiting for you." 
 
 " Very well," he replies, turning away. " I will 
 be only a minute." 
 
 He is not allowed to escape, but with a roar the 
 crowd seize him, lift him shoulder high, and chanting, 
 " Shock ! Shock ! we like Shock ! " bear him away 
 in triumph. 
 
 " Eh, what are the daft laddies saying now ? " in- 
 quires the old lady, struggling hard to keep out of 
 her voice the pride that shone in her eyes. 
 
 "Listen," cries Helen, her eyes shining with the 
 same light. " Listen to them," and beating time with 
 her hand she j oins in the chant, " Shock ! Shock ! we 
 like Shock. " 
 
m 
 
 THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 THE Superintendent had come from the 
 West on his spring round-up. New settle- 
 ments in anticipation of and following the 
 new Railway, old settlements in 'British 
 Columbia valleys formed twenty years ago and 
 forgotten, ranches of the foot-hill country, the min- 
 ing camps to the north and south of the new line 
 these were beginning to fire the imagination of older 
 Canada. Fresh from the new and wonderful land 
 lying west of the Great Lakes, with its spell upon him, 
 its miseries, its infamies, its loneliness aching in his 
 heart, but with the starlight of its promise burning in 
 his eyes, he came to tell the men of the Colleges of 
 their duty, their privilege, their opportunity waiting 
 in the West. For the most part his was a voice cry- 
 ing in the wilderness. Not yet had Canadians come 
 to their faith in their Western Empire. Among the 
 great leaders were still found those who poured con- 
 tempt upon the project of the trans-continental rail- 
 way, and even those who favoured the scheme based 
 their support upon political rather than upon eco- 
 nomic grounds. It was all so far away and all so 
 unreal that men who prided themselves upon being 
 governed by shrewd business sense held aloof from 
 
 55 
 
56 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 western enterprises, waiting in calm assurance for 
 their certain collapse. Still, here and there men like 
 Bompas, McLean, McDougall, and Robertson were 
 holding high the light that fell upon prairie and foot- 
 hill, mountain peak and canyon, wheVe speculators, 
 adventurers, broken men, men with shamed names 
 seeking hiding, and human wolves seeking their prey 
 were pouring in. 
 
 Discouraged with the results of his work in the 
 Eastern Colleges, the Superintendent arrived at Knox, 
 and to-night he stood facing the crowd of students 
 and their friends that filled the long Dining Hall to 
 overflowing. With heart hot from disappointment 
 and voice strident with intensity of emotion, he told of 
 the things he had seen and heard in that great new 
 land. Descriptions of scenery, statistics, tales hu- 
 morous and pathetic, patriotic appeal, and prophetic 
 vision came pouring forth in an overwhelming flood 
 from the great man, who e tall, sinewy form swayed 
 and rocked in his passion, and whose Scotch voice 
 burred through his sonorous periods. " For your 
 Church, for your fellowmen, for Canada," rang out 
 his last appeal, and the men passed out into the cor- 
 ridor toward the Entrance Hall, silent or conversing 
 in low, earnest tones. There was none of the usual 
 chaffing or larking. They had been thinking great 
 thoughts and seeing great visions. 
 
 " I want to thank you for asking me in to-night, 
 Lloyd," said The Don. His voice was quiet and his 
 fine eyes were lustrous with light. " That man ought 
 to be in Parliament. I shall see that country soon, I 
 
VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 57 
 
 hope. What a master he is ! What a grasp ! What 
 handling of facts ! There's a great Canadian, I say, 
 and he ought to be in Parliament." 
 
 The men gathered round, for the great 'Varsity 
 half back was well known and well liked in that com- 
 pany ; but they all knew him as one of the gay 'Var- 
 sity set, and some of the older men knew, too, that in 
 his early college career were passages that neither he 
 nor his friends cared to remember. Hence all of 
 them, but especially Shock, whom he loved, and Lloyd, 
 whom he greatly admired, listened with surprise to 
 The Don's enthusiastic words, for they both had stood 
 beside him in those dark days, and had played toward 
 him the brother's part. The men waited in silence for 
 Lloyd's reply. They knew him to be by far the 
 strongest man in the college, the readiest in debate, 
 as well as the most popular in the pulpit; but, with 
 the sure instinct of college men, they had come to 
 recognise his ambitious spirit, and, indeed, to be more 
 influenced by it tha.i they would have cared to 
 acknowledge. 
 
 " Yes," said Lloyd, " it was certainly a statesman- 
 like address. It contained all the elements of a great 
 speech. But he of course well he sees only one 
 thing The West." 
 
 " That's right," said little Brown, who had come in 
 at Shock's earnest invitation, and because he was 
 anxious to hear about the new country from one who 
 was coming to be recognised as an authority, " he 
 sees one thing sure enough. I say, what a drummer 
 he'd make! Talk like that is worth $100 a minute 
 
58 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 to any firm. I'll put my Governor on to him. When 
 that chap opened his sample case he wouldn't talk 
 weather and politics, and then sidle up to business. 
 Not much! He'd give them Brown's Axle Oil, 
 Brown's Baking Powder, or anything else of Brown's 
 he was showing, till his customer would see nothing 
 but Brown's Axle Oil and Brown's Baking Powder all 
 over his shop, and he'd be reaching for the whole out- 
 put. One thing ! You bet ! " 
 
 A general laugh of approval followed Brown's 
 speech. 
 
 " That's true enough," said Lloyd in a tone of calm 
 superiority, " but there is other work to do and other 
 places to do it in." 
 
 " The Park Church, for instance, eh, Lloyd? " sug- 
 gested the voice slyly. 
 
 "Why not?" answered Lloyd. "The centres 
 must be manned that's a safe principle in strat- 
 
 egy." 
 
 " Certainly," cried another voice ironically. " Our 
 neglected masses ! " 
 
 "Yes, and neglected classes, too." Lloyd's tone 
 was earnest and sincere. 
 
 " I agree with you, Lloyd," said The Don emphati- 
 cally, " if any fellows need to be, ah well shaken 
 up, you know, it's us poor devils who attend the city 
 churches. For my part, I would like to see you in 
 the Park Church, and I promise you I would go 
 regularly." 
 
 On all sides there was frank approval of The Don's 
 position, while Lloyd, flushed and laughing, lightly 
 
VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 59 
 
 replied : " Oh, there won't be any trouble, I fancy, in 
 getting a man for the Park Church." 
 
 " Not in the least, I assure you," said Brown. 
 " Brown Bros., Commission Merchants, etc., etc., will 
 undertake to supply men in half-dozen lots willing for 
 a consideration to offer themselves upon the altar of 
 Park Church." 
 
 " There's more than willingness necessary, unfor- 
 tunately, and besides, lots of men would be willing to 
 go West," answered Lloyd. 
 
 " Yes, and lots of men deucedly unwilling, too, 
 from what your old man there says, not to speak of 
 the young lady, who apparently must also be willing. 
 Oh ! I say, wasn't that a great yarn ; and if ever that 
 chap gets a look at himself from that particular point 
 of view, that '11 be the time to buy him." 
 
 " Brown, my boy," said The Don solemnly, " your 
 limitations are obvious. The commercial in you has 
 run to seed." 
 
 '' That may be, but I can spot a man that knows 
 how to show his goods, and when that old gentleman 
 set forth the West in those high lights of his, I tell 
 you what, I almost wished I was a Theologue." 
 
 "What a pity you are not," replied The Don 
 thoughtfully, " for apparently they want strong 
 men." At which the crowd again laughed. 
 
 " What's the matter with Shock ? " suggested some- 
 one ; " he's a good strong man." There was a gen- 
 eral laugh. 
 
 " You're the man, Shock. You would clear out 
 those saloons." 
 
60 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Can you ride a broncho. Shock ? " 
 
 At the good-natured chaff Shock blushed a deeper 
 red than usual. No one expected much of poor Shock. 
 Indeed, most of his classmates wondered if he would 
 ever " get a place," and none more than Shock him- 
 self. 
 
 But Brown, resenting the laugh and its all too 
 evident implication, replied indignantly : " You bet 
 Shock's the man for the West, or any place else where 
 solid men are wanted, and where Shock goes there will 
 be something doing ! And," striking an attitude, 
 " the country will be the better for it ! Oh, I am a 
 Canadian ! " he continued, smiting his breast dramat- 
 ically. " Come along, Shock, we've got an appoint- 
 ment," and Brown, linking his arm affectionately 
 through that of his big friend, stuck his cap on the 
 back of his head and marched off whistling " The 
 Maple Leaf." 
 
 " Say ! " he cried, as he passed out into the street, 
 " won't a lot of those fellows volunteer, or will they 
 hunt round for a nice little bunk in Ontario ? " 
 
 " Many would like to go if t^v could," said Shock 
 thoughtfully, " but you know there are many things 
 that must be considered." 
 
 "Young ladies, eh?" asked Brown with a laugh. 
 "Oh! didn't he tell that yarn well? It was great. 
 But I'd hate to be the fellow." 
 
 " But you are not fair," replied Shock. " A man 
 can't answer every appeal. He must think what he 
 is fit for, and, in short, where he is called to work. 
 There's Lloyd, now " 
 
VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS 61 
 
 " Oh, Lloyd ! " broke in Brown impatiently. " He's 
 a quitter." 
 
 " Not he. He's anything but that." 
 
 " No," owned Brown, " he's not a quitter, but he 
 puts in overtime thinking of what's good for Lloyd. 
 Of course, I do that sort of thing myself, but from a 
 fellow like Lloyd one expects something better." 
 
 Soon they were at Shock's door. 
 
 " Come in," said Shock cordially, " mother will be 
 glad to see you." 
 
 And Brown went in. 
 
IV 
 ONLY ONE CLAIM 
 
 IT always gave Brown a sense of content to enter 
 the Macgregor cottage. Even among the thrifty 
 North country folk the widow Macgregor's home, 
 while not as pretentious as those of the well-to-do 
 farmers, had been famous as a model of tidy house- 
 keeping. Her present home was a little cottage of 
 three rooms with the kitchen at the back. The front 
 room where Mrs. Macgregor received her few visitors, 
 and where Shock did most of his reading, except when 
 driven to his bedroom by the said visitors, was lighted 
 by two candles in high, polished, old-fashioned brass 
 candlesticks, and by the fire from the hearth, which 
 radiated a peace and comfort which even the shiny 
 hair-cloth chairs and sofa and the remaining somewhat 
 severe furniture of the room could not chill. It was 
 the hearth and mantel that had decided Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor and Shock in their purchase of the little cot- 
 tage, which in many eyes was none too desirable. 
 On the walls hung old-fashioned prints of Robbie 
 Burns and his Highland Mary, the Queen and the 
 Prince Consort, one or two quaint family groups, and 
 over the mantel a large portrait of a tall soldier in 
 full Highland dress. Upon a bracket in a corner 
 stood a glass case enclosing a wreath of flowers 
 
 62 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 63 
 
 wrought in worsted, and under it in a frame hung a 
 sampler with the Lord's Prayer similarly wrought. 
 On one side of the room stood a clock upon a shelf, 
 flanked by the Family Bible and such books as "The 
 Saint's Rest," "Holy Living," "The Fourfold 
 State," " Scots Worthies," all ancient and well worn. 
 On the other side stood a bookcase which was Shock's, 
 and beside it a table where he did his work. Alto- 
 gether it was a very plain room, but the fireplace and 
 the shining candlesticks and the rag carpet on the 
 floor redeemed it from any feeling of discomfort, 
 while the flowers that filled the windows lent an air of 
 purity and sweetness. 
 
 " Come away, my lad, come away," said Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor, who sat knitting by the fire. " The night is 
 chill enough. Come away up to the fire." 
 
 " Thanks, Mrs. Macgregor," said Brown, " it does 
 me good to look at you by the fire there with your knit- 
 ting. When I'm an old man I only hope I'll have a 
 cozy hearthstone like this to draw up to, and on the 
 other side a cozy old lady like you with pink cheeks 
 like these which I must now kiss." 
 
 " Tut, tut, it's a daft laddie you are whatever," 
 said the old lady, blushing a little, but not ill-pleased. 
 " Sit ye down yonder." 
 
 Brown, ever since his illness, when Mrs. Macgregor 
 and Shock had nursed him back from death's door 
 two years ago, was one of the family, and, indeed, he 
 used endearments with the old lady that the unde- 
 monstrative Shock would never have dared to use. 
 
 "Ye're late, Hamish. Surely yon man had much 
 
64 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 to say s " said his mother, looking lovingly upon her 
 great, sturdy son. 
 
 " That he had, mother, and great it was, I can tell 
 
 you." 
 
 Then Shock proceeded, after his habit, to give his 
 mother a full share of what he had been enjoying. 
 Mrs. Macgregor listened intently, pausing now and 
 then in her knitting to ejaculate, " Well-a-well ! " 
 " Look at that, now ! " " Hear to him ! " When Shock 
 had finished, Brown broke in : " It was truly magnifi- 
 cent, I assure you, Mrs. Macgregor, and the enthu- 
 siasm of the man! And his yarns! Oh, he is truly 
 great ! " 
 
 " And what would he be doing at the college ? " 
 enquired the old lady. " There would not be much 
 money there, I doubt.' 5 
 
 " Men, mother, men," cried Shock with some excite- 
 ment. " Volunteers for the Great West, and a hard 
 time he is having, too, what with the foreign field, and 
 needy vacancies in this country, and city pulpits, 
 and the like." 
 
 Mrs. Macgregor sat silent, her needles ilying fast 
 and her lips pressed together. 
 
 " I wish you could have heard him, Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor," said Brown, enthusiastically. " He has a 
 tongue like a rasp, and at times it takes off the skin. 
 That was fine, Shock, about the fellows who could not 
 give him answer till they had asked the Lord about it. 
 ' 1 find a good many men/ the old chap said, ' who, 
 after anxiously enquiring as to the work expected of 
 them, remuneration, prospects of advance, etc., always 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 65 
 
 want to lay the matter before the Lord before giving 
 their answer. And I am beginning to think that the 
 Lord has some grudge against the West, for almost 
 invariably He appears to advise these men to leave it 
 severely alone.' Oh, it was great ! " Little Brown 
 hugged his knee in delight at the memory of that 
 rasping tongue. 
 
 " But surely there are plenty of men," said Mrs. 
 Maegregor a little impatiently, " for there's no want 
 of them whateffer when a congregation faUs vacant." 
 
 " ' That's so," replied Brown ; " but you see he wants 
 only first-class men men ready for anything in the 
 way of hardship, and not to be daunted by man or 
 devil." 
 
 "Ou ay!" said the old lady, nodding her head 
 grimly; "he will not be finding so many of yon 
 kind." 
 
 " But it must be a great country," went on Brown. 
 " You ought to hear him tell of the rivers with sands 
 of gold, running through beds of coal sixty feet 
 thick." 
 
 The old lady shook her cap at him, peering over her 
 glasses. " Ye're a gay callant, and you will be tak- 
 ing your fun off me." 
 
 " But it's true. Ask Shock there." 
 
 "What?" said Shock, waking up from a deep 
 study. Brown explained. 
 
 " Yes," said Shock. " The sands of the Saskatch- 
 ewan are full of gold, and you know, mother, about 
 the rivers in Cariboo." 
 
 "Ay, I remember fine the Cariboo, and Cariboo 
 
66 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Cameron and his gold. But not much good did It 
 do him, poor fellow." 
 
 "But," said Shock, gazing into the fire, "it was 
 terrible to hear his tales of these men in the mines 
 with their saloons and awful gambling places, and the 
 men and women in their lonely shacks in the foot-hills. 
 My ! I could see them all." 
 
 Mrs. Macgregor looked sharply into her son's face, 
 then laying her kitting down in her lap she turned 
 to him and said severely, "And what took them out 
 yonder? And did they not know what-na country 
 it was before they went out ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Shock, still looking into the fire, "but 
 there they are, Mother, there they are, and no living 
 soul to speak a good word to them." 
 
 "Well then," said the old lady, even more im- 
 patiently, " let them put up with it, as better before 
 them have done to their credit, ay, and to their good 
 as well." 
 
 "Meantime the saloons and worse are getting 
 them," replied Shock, " and fine fellows they are, too, 
 he says." 
 
 " And is yon man wanting the lads from the college 
 to go out yonder to those terrible-like mines and 
 things so far from their homes? Why does he not 
 send the men who are wanting places?" Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor's tone was unusually sharp. Both Shock and 
 Brown looked at her in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, you may look," she went on, " but I say let 
 them that's not needed here go out yonder, and there 
 will be plenty of them, I warrant." 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 67 V 
 
 " ' And they'd none of them be missed,' " sang 
 Brown. 
 
 "I doubt they wouldn't do," said Shock, shaking 
 his head sadly. 
 
 "Well, mother," cried Brown, "you'll have a 
 chance of hearing him yourself to-morrow morning, 
 for he is going to preach in your church, I see." 
 
 The old lady shrugged her shoulders. " Indeed, 
 and I wish our meenister wouldn't be so ready with 
 his pulpit for every Bill and Bob that comes the 
 way. He will not be needing a rest again, will he? " 
 
 Shock gazed at his mother in sheer amazement. He 
 had never seen her like this before. This bitter im- 
 patience was so unlike her usual calm, dignified self- 
 control. 
 
 "But mother," he ventured, "the cause will be 
 needing money and the people will need to hear 
 about it, surely." 
 
 " Oh, as to that 5 " she answered in a relieved tone, 
 "it is not much that we can give, but what we can 
 we will, and, indeed, there are many of them in that 
 Kirk that would be the better of giving a little of 
 their money. But, lad," she added as if dismissing a 
 painful subject, "you must be at your books." 
 
 "Which means I must go. I know you, Mother 
 Macgregor," said Brown, using his pet name for the 
 woman who had for two years been more of a mother 
 to him than his own. 
 
 " Ay, and within a few weeks you will be wishing, 
 as well, that someone had set you to your books, for 
 the examinators wfll be upon you." 
 
68 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "And, doubtless, shear me as bare as Delilah did 
 Samson of old. But I am not promising you I am 
 going to work. My physician warns me against work 
 on Saturday nights, so I am going to hunt up The 
 Don. 9 ' 
 
 " Indeed then, you will know well where to look for 
 him," said the old lady shrewdly. 
 
 " Ah, mother, you're too sharp for any of us. Not 
 much escapes your eyes." 
 
 "Indeed, one does not require eyes to see some 
 things, and-yon laddie is daft enough." 
 
 " Daf t's the word," said Brown, " and has been for 
 the last three years. Is not it astonishing and pro- 
 foundly humiliating," he added solemnly, "to see a 
 chit of a girl, just because she has brown curls and 
 brown eyes with a most bewildering skill in using 
 them, so twiddle a man? It passes my compre- 
 hension." 
 
 The old lady shook her head at him. " Wait you, 
 my lad. Your day will come." 
 
 " I hear The Don has got the offer of a great ap- 
 pointment in connection with the new railway in that 
 country and I fear that means trouble for him. There 
 are those who would be delighted to see him out of the 
 way for a couple of years or so." 
 
 But the old lady would not gossip, so Brown was 
 forced to drop the subject with the remark, " But 
 I'll do what I can to assist the Fates, and I'll begin 
 by bringing both those young ladies to hear your 
 big gun to-morrow if I can, Shock. They ought to 
 know more about their own country." 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 69 
 
 Shock glanced up quickly as if to speak, but seemed 
 to think better of it and poked the fire instead. 
 
 " I doubt they would be more profited in their own 
 church," said Mrs. Macgregor. " * Traivellin' sheep 
 are sair tae keep,' as they say in the South country. 
 No, it's little enough the poor things will be getting in 
 yon church of theirs with their read prayers and their 
 bit sairmon a sairmonette, they will be calling it. 
 Ay, a sairmonette!" The old lady indulged herself 
 in a quiet chuckle of indescribable contempt. 
 
 "Why, mother," said Shock in a reproving tone, 
 " don't you know that their minister is just a splen- 
 did preacher. There is no better in the city." 
 
 "And that's not saying much," said the old lady. 
 " But I'm glad to hear it." 
 
 "My! mother, but you are censorious to-night. 
 You can't expect to find men like Candlish, Chalmers, 
 and Macdonald of Ferintosh in every age." 
 
 " Ay," said the old lady with an emphatic shake of 
 her head, " and that's a true word. Men like yon are 
 not to be found, and like McCheyne and Burns and 
 Guthrie and the rest of them. Oh! it iss manys 
 the Sabbath morning when I wass a lass, that I walked 
 with my shoes and stockings in my hand down the glen 
 to hear these men preach. And yon was the preach- 
 ing. Yon was the preaching. None of your puny, 
 peeping, fifteen-meenute sairmonettes, but preaching, 
 terrible heart-smiting preaching." The old lady had 
 ceased her knitting and was sitting erect in her chair 
 gazing straight before her. The young men sat 
 silent, fearing to break the spell that was upon 
 
70 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 her, and waiting eagerly for what they knew was 
 coming. 
 
 " Man ! man ! " she continued, " those were the days ! 
 and those were the men! I have heard such preach- 
 ing as would cause your heart to quake within you 
 and make you to listen with the fear of death upon you 
 lest it should stop." 
 
 " It must have been terrible preaching, indeed,' 5 
 said Brown softly. 
 
 " Terrible ! ay, terrible's the word. Lad, lad," said 
 the old lady, turning upon Brown her piercing blue- 
 grey eyes, " in the old Mullin Church I have seen the 
 very rafters throbbing, and strong men and women 
 swaying like the tree-tops in the glen while Burns was 
 raging forth upon them like the Tummel in spate, 
 while visions of the eternal things the throne of God 
 and the Judgment Day filled our eyes." She paused 
 a few moments and then sinking back into her chair 
 she went on, " Ay, terrible preaching, yon, like the 
 storm-blast sweeping the hillsides and rending the 
 firs in the Pass. Yes ! yes ! But gentle at times and 
 winning, like the rain falling soft at night, wooing at 
 the bluebells and the daisies in the glen, or like a 
 mother croonin- over the babe at her breast, till men 
 wept for love and longing after Himself. Ay, lad, 
 lad, yon was the preaching." 
 
 There was a long silence while they waited for her 
 to continue. 
 
 "What was that sermon, mother, at Mullin that 
 time upon the words * WiU ye also go away?' you 
 remember? " at length asked Shock cunningly. 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 71 
 
 His mother sighed. " Ay, and that was a sairmon 
 to draw the heart out o' you. That was the melting 
 day, while the big men gripped their sticks hard and 
 the women wiped at their eyes that would never be 
 done running, and that man's voice soughing over 
 them like the wind in the pines in the evening, Yes ! 
 yes ! But," suddenly recalling herself, " come, lads, 
 you must be off to your books." 
 
 The young men sat a few moments silently gazing 
 into the fire, and then Brown rose and said, " Good- 
 night, mother. You're the greatest preacher I know, 
 and I would not mind a whole hour from you." His 
 voice was earnest and his eyes soft and tender as he 
 stooped and kissed her cheek. 
 
 "Good-night, laddie," answered Mrs. Macgregor, 
 patting his hand gently. "I doubt, after all, the 
 fault nowadays is not with the preaching so much as 
 with the hearing." 
 
 "Well, I'm off. You will see me to-morrow with 
 my flock of straying sheep. But I warn you that 
 after you hear that man from the West you will all 
 be volunteering as missionaries." 
 
 The old lady took up her knitting again and after 
 the door had closed upon Brown sat back in her chair 
 with a weary sigh. 
 
 " You're tired to-night, mother," said Shock gently. 
 
 " Tired ? And what for would I be tired ? No, no, 
 but the day is long." 
 
 " Yes, some days, mother. But the longest pass." 
 
 She glanced quickly at her son, but save for a 
 quivering of the lips usually so firm, there was no 
 
72 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 sign of the pain which both knew lay at the heart of 
 each. Her mood of impatience had passed. She 
 was once more herself, calm and strong, looking with 
 steadfast eyes into the future, knowing well that what- 
 ever the days might bring, He who for fifty years had 
 been her refuge and her strength would not fail her. 
 
 The appeal for the West was the theme of con- 
 versation at the Fairbanks home, where the usual com- 
 pany had assembled. The Don was describing the 
 Superintendent's address at the College and thrilling 
 his listeners with his own enthusiasm, when Brown 
 entered. 
 
 "Hello! At it again?" cried Brown. "If he 
 doesn't avoid that fiery cross fellow, The Don will be 
 off for the West first thing you know." 
 
 " Tell us," cried Betty, " was he as great as all 
 that? Mr. Balfour here would have us believe that 
 this Western man is really something wonderful." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," said Brown. " You never 
 think of whether he is wonderful or not, but one thing 
 I know, he makes you see things the mountains and 
 that foot-hill country, the mining camps and all that 
 saloon and gambling-hell business, till you can smell 
 the brimstone and you want to be in it." 
 
 " What? Into the brimstone? " laughed Lloyd. 
 
 " I am rather incoherent, I confess. But that old 
 chap suits me. If I were a Theologue, and unat- 
 tached, I'd be there." 
 
 " There's no doubt it is a great country, with vast 
 opportunities," said The Don, glancing at Betty. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Fairbanks, frowning as she noted 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 73 
 
 the glance, " and doubtless any young man who has 
 the necessary enterprise and courage will make his 
 fortune with the growth of that country." 
 
 " But why unattached? What do you mean by 
 that? " enquired Betty. 
 
 " Unattached? Why, you know, just like me a 
 man with no family ties to speak of. Did you tell 
 them that yarn, Lloyd? Well, I'll teU you. You 
 know the Superintendent was telling the fellows of the 
 difficulty he had in securing men. Well, he man- 
 aged to get a man from an Eastern College whom he 
 appointed to the Cariboo right sort of chap, too, 
 apparently accepted the appointment everything 
 was arranged happened, however, he was engaged to 
 a young lady brought up in the lap of luxury, and 
 that sort of thing. When she heard of her young 
 man being appointed to this outlandish place, she 
 promptly collapsed into a faint, sister went into 
 hysterics, mother into a blind rage, result young 
 man resigned. ' So you see, gentlemen,' said the old 
 chap dryly, * when you have to consider the tastes 
 and temperament, not only of the young man, but of 
 his young lady and of all her near family relatives, 
 the difficulty of securing men for the West is sensibly 
 increased.' " 
 
 " I think that is just horrid of him," exclaimed 
 Betty indignantly. " The young lady ought to be 
 consulted. Don't you think so? " turning to Lloyd. 
 
 " Why certainly, and yet " 
 
 " Most assuredly," said Mrs. Fairbanks. " Would 
 you ask a young lady to go out and bury herself alive 
 
74 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 in such a country as that, or ask her to wait an indefi- 
 nite number of years till the young man should re- 
 turn? Why it is simply monstrous." And Mrs. 
 Fairbanks fixed her glasses firmly on her nose and 
 gazed at Brown as if she would annihilate him. 
 
 " Why certainly I would," replied Brown, quite un- 
 abashed ; " and if she loved me," placing his hand 
 over his heart, " she would be glad to do either. I 
 would simply remark, ' My love, I'm off for Green- 
 land.' * Wait, my dear,' she would promptly reply, 
 6 tiU I get my furs.' " 
 
 66 All the same," said Lloyd seriously, " it would be 
 a terrible life for any woman, and a man should hesi- 
 tate before asking her to share it." 
 
 " No society, nothing congenial in environment ! 
 Quite impossible ! " exclaimed Mrs. Fairbanks with 
 great emphasis. " And quite absurd to dream of it." 
 
 " Then," replied Brown warmly to Lloyd, " the 
 only available men for your Chief, apparently, are 
 hopeless old bachelors or young men, however worthy 
 like myself, who are still unappropriated." 
 
 " Exactly," said Mrs. Fairbanks with an air of 
 finality. 
 
 " But, Mrs. Fairbanks," exclaimed The Don, " what 
 of our soldiers and officers who go to India and other 
 outlandish places? They take their wives along with 
 them, I understand? " 
 
 " Tha&5 quite a different thing, Mr. Balf our," 
 said Mrs. Fairbanks. " These men go out to serve 
 their Queen and country, and it is recognised as the 
 proper thing, and well, you see, it is quite different." 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 75 
 
 w I must say," exclaimed Helen, hastening to fore- 
 stall the hot answer she knew to be at The Don's lips, 
 " I agree with Mr. Brown. If a man's work calls 
 him to Greenland, his wife ought to go with him or 
 she ought to be willing to wait his return." 
 
 " Helen, you speak like a sentimental school-girl," 
 replied Mrs. Fairbanks with a touch of haughty scorn. 
 " Of course if a man is married and duty calls him 
 to a foreign land, he must go. But why should a girl 
 throw away her prospects and condemn herself to a 
 life of obscurity and isolation by attaching herself to 
 a man who chooses to take up some fantastic mission 
 in some outlandish place or other? " 1 
 
 "Why? Because she loves a man whose duty 
 calls him there," exclaimed Helen, her grey eyes 
 glowing. 
 
 "Bravo!" replied Brown. "If I see a Western 
 missionary wanting a helpmeet that's the proper 
 word, I believe I shall know where to send him." 
 
 " Nonsense," cried Mrs. Fairbanks quite crossly, 
 " but surely we need not discuss the question any 
 further." 
 
 " Well, if I may offer an opinion," said The Don in 
 a deliberate, strained voice, " that country is the place 
 for men with enterprise who believe in themselves, and 
 I think no man is throwing his prospects away who 
 identifies himself with it nor woman either, for that 
 matter. And what is true of other professions ought 
 to be true of the ministry." 
 
 "I agree," cried Brown, adding wickedly, "just 
 the spot for you, Lloyd." 
 
76 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "Why, I should like nothing better," said Lloyd, 
 *' if circumstances indicated that my work lay there." 
 
 "Well, well, what's come to you all? " cried Mrs. 
 Fairbanks, holding up her jewelled hands in despair, 
 
 " The Occidental microbe," suggested Brown. 
 
 "And the monumental nonsense it is," said Mrs. 
 Fairbanks, " for men of high culture and special train- 
 ing to lose themselves in such a country as that." 
 
 " But," persisted Brown, " they say that that's the 
 very place for such men. Why, that country is full 
 of high-class chaps University grads, Lords, Dukes, 
 and such, as well as the professional gambler, and 
 other highly technical experts. The Superintendent 
 declared to-night he wouldn't have any but high-class 
 men hence, Lloyd!" and Brown waved his hand 
 toward that gentleman. 
 
 " I have no doubt," said Mrs. Fairbanks with severe 
 deliberation, " that Mr. Lloyd has the good sense to 
 perceive that his special training fits him for some- 
 thing quite different, and I think he will not be mad 
 enough to throw away his brilliant prospects in any 
 such silly manner. But come, let us have some music. 
 Mr. Lloyd, you and Betty sing something for us." 
 
 As they moved to the piano, Brown looked up at 
 The Don. His handsome, haughty face was set hard 
 and in his eyes burned a light that Brown had often 
 seen there on the football field. 
 
 " He's going to tackle and tackle hard, too, poor 
 old chap. Not much chance, though, against that 
 combination of Church and State." 
 
 "Oh, that we two were Maying," sang Lloyd m 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM TT 
 
 his fine tenor voice, with Betty responding in like 
 sentiment. 
 
 " Well, I rather hope not," muttered Brown to him- 
 self as he crossed the room to where Helen was seated. 
 Pausing a moment beside her he said in a low tone, 
 " The Don has had an offer on the new railway con- 
 struction in the West two years' appointment. Go 
 and talk t<) him about it. Looks fierce, doesn't he? n 
 And Helen,, nodding intelligently, lingered a moment 
 and then moved to where The Don sat, while Brown 
 went toward the piano. " Must get these youngsters 
 inoculated with the Occidental microbe," he muttered 
 as he took his place beside Mrs. Fairbanks, who was 
 listening with pleased approval to the " Maying " 
 duet, the pauses of which Brown industriously em- 
 ployed in soothing her ruffled feelings. So well did 
 he succeed that when he proffered the humble request 
 that the young ladies should be allowed to accompany 
 him to Shock's church in the morning, Mrs. Fairbanks 
 gave a reluctant. assent. 
 
 " Undoubtedly, I am a great strategist," said Brown 
 to himself next morning as he sat watching with sur- 
 reptitious glances the faces of the young ladies beside 
 him. The preacher was at his best. The great land 
 where his life mission lay, with its prairies, foot-hills, 
 mountains, and valleys, and all their marvellous 
 resources, was spread out before the eyes of the con- 
 gregation with all the passionate pride of the patriot 
 The life of the lonely rancher and of his more lonely 
 wife, the desperate struggle for manhood by the meni 
 of the mine and the railroad and the lumber camp ? 
 
78 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 the magnitude of the issues at stake; the pathos of 
 defeat, the glory of triumph, were all portrayed with 
 a power that compelled the sj^mpathy of his hearers, 
 while the shrewd common-sense vein that ran through 
 all convinced their intellects and won their confidence. 
 Perplexity, wonder, horror, compassion, filled their 
 hearts and were reflected with rapid succession on their 
 faces, as he told his stories of the wreck of human lives 
 and consequent agony of human hearts. 
 
 " By Jove ! they've got it," exclaimed Brown to 
 himself. " The dear Mrs. Fairbanks has no anti- 
 toxine for this microbe." His eyes turned to Shock 
 and there were held fast. " He's got it, too, confound 
 him," he grumbled. "Surely, he wouldn't be beast 
 enough to leave his old mother alone." The mother's 
 face was a strange sight. On it the anguish of her 
 heart was plainly to be seen, but with the anguish 
 the rapt glory of those who triumph by sacrifice. 
 
 As the congregation broke up the young ladies hur- 
 ried to greet Mrs. Macgregor. From the day of the 
 football match they had carefully and persistently 
 nursed the acquaintance then begun till they had come 
 to feel at home in the Macgregor cottage. Hence, 
 when Betty fell into severe illness and they were at 
 their wits' end for a nurse, they gladly accepted Mrs. 
 Macgregor's proffered help, and during the long 
 anxious weeks that followed, the whole family came 
 to regard with respect, confidence, and finally warm 
 affection, the dignified old lady who, with such kindly, 
 shrewd, and tender care, nursed the sick girl back to 
 strength. Helen especially, who had shared the lonjs 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 79 
 
 watch with her, had made for herself a large place in 
 her heart. To-day, after an exchange of greetings, 
 Helen drew Mrs. Macgregor back and allowed the 
 others to go on. For some time they walked in 
 silence, Helen holding the old lady tight by the arm. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of that?" she said 
 finally. " Wasn't it wonderful ? It makes one proud 
 to be a Canadian. What a country that must be ! If 
 I were only a man! It's too bad that men have all 
 the good things. Wouldn't you like to go yourself? " 
 
 " That I would," said the old lady eagerly, " that 
 I would. But I doubt it's not for me. But yon's a 
 man." 
 
 " Yes," cried Helen enthusiastically, " he is a man 
 to follow. Of course, it was a strange sermon for a 
 church those stories of his, I mean, and all those 
 figures about coal beds and gold and cattle. I'm not 
 used to that sort of thing and I don't like to see the 
 people laugh." 
 
 " Ay, he's wise," replied the old lady shrewdly. 
 " When a man laughs he's nearer to letting his money 
 go. Ay, he's wise, yon man." 
 
 "Of course, I think he's extreme," said Helen. 
 " You would think to hear him there was no place but 
 the West and that every young minister must go out 
 there and give up everything." 
 
 " There's few to go, I doubt," said the old lady in 
 a musing tone, " and yon are terrible-like places for 
 those lads to live." 
 
 " Yes, but everyone can't go." 
 
 " No, no. That's it. That's just it. Not many 
 
80 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 can go and not many are fit to go. But those that 
 
 can " the old lady paused, drawing her breath 
 
 in sharply. 
 
 " But surely a man may do his work without giving 
 up everything he holds dear," persisted Helen. 
 
 " ' Forsaketh not all that he hath, 5 " quoted the old 
 lady softly. 
 
 " Yes, but that's not for everybody," insisted Helen. 
 
 "'Whosoever,'" quoted Mrs. Macgregor again, 
 with a stern relentlessness in her tone. " Ay, there 
 will be no slipping out from under yon." 
 
 " But surely," argued Helen, " it is not reasonable 
 to think that every young minister is bound to for- 
 sake home and friends, and all that, and go out to 
 these wild places." 
 
 " Not every one will be called. The application 
 will not be easy for any of us, I doubt. Oh, no! it 
 will not be easy." 
 
 " But surely, Mrs. Macgregor, there are other 
 claims upon men." 
 
 " There iss only one claim, lassie, only one claim. 
 His claim is the first. All other claims will just be 
 working out that first one. Ay, that's it," she said, 
 as if arriving at decision, " only one claim. God 
 peety us ! One claim," she added with a sudden break 
 in her voice. 
 
 At that break Helen glanced at the old lady. The 
 strong face was working strangely. The tears were 
 slowty making their way down the wrinkled face. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Macgregor ! " exclaimed Helen, " that 
 seems an awfully hard doctrine. Do you think God 
 
ONLY ONE CLAIM 81 
 
 ever wants a man to leave father, mother, wife, help- 
 less behind? " 
 
 " No, no, lassie, not helpless. But ," she could 
 
 go no further. " But," she continued after a moment 
 or two, clutching Helen by the arm, " he will be 
 going away, lassie, he will be going away. He will 
 be leaving me and it iss the will of the Lord. Oh! 
 lassie, lassie, heed me not. He must never see the 
 tears on my face." 
 
 " Don't ! don't ! " cried Helen in a sudden anguish. 
 She had no need of further words to tell her what the 
 old lady meant. " He would never do such a thing ! 
 He could not do it ! " 
 
 "Could not?" answered Mrs. Macgregor. "Ay, 
 he could," she said proudly. " Thank God he could. 
 He will not be shaming his blood. But oh! it iss 
 himself will carry a sore heart away with him and leave 
 a sore heart behind." 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Macgregor ! " cried Helen, while her 
 breath came fast and her hand went to her own heart, 
 " perhaps he will not think it to be his duty. Per- 
 haps he will not " 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, and I saw it in hiss face last night, 
 and clearer than ever to-day. He hass heard the 
 voice and it iss for him to obey and for us." 
 
 They were near Mrs. Macgregor's home, where the 
 others stood waiting for them at the gate. 
 
 " May I come to see you ? " said Helen hurriedly. 
 
 " Ay, come," said Mrs. Macgregor with a keen look 
 at her, " you will be needing I will be needing help." 
 
 The others they found eagerly discussing the ser- 
 
82 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 mon, but there was little criticism. The Superintend- 
 ent had won his volunteers. On Shock's face sat the 
 serenity of a great decision, in his deep blue eyes the 
 light of a great enterprise. As he said good-bye to 
 Helen, she became aware that his usual hesitating, 
 nervous awkwardness had given place to quiet, 
 thoughtful dignity. A great resolve and a great 
 sacrifice had lifted him far above things small and 
 common. 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 
 
 WHEN Helen entered her own room she 
 had leisure to analyse the tumult of 
 emotion filling her heart. Amazement, 
 shame, anger, dismay, grief, were surg- 
 ing across her soul. 
 
 " How can he think of leaving his mother? It is a 
 shame!" she cried indignantly to herself > But why 
 this hot sense of shame ? " Nonsense ! *' she pro- 
 tested vehemently to herself, " it is that poor, dear 
 old lady I am thinking of." She remembered that 
 sudden stab at her heart at the old lady's broken 
 words, " He will be going away, lassie," and her cheek 
 flamed hot again. , " It is all nonsense," she repeated 
 angrily, and there being no one to contradict her, she 
 said it again with even greater emphasis. But sud- 
 denly she sat down, and before long she found her- 
 self smiling at the memory of the old lady's proud 
 cry, " Could not ? Ay, he could." And now she 
 knew why her heart was so full of happy pride. It 
 was for Shock. He was a man strong enough to see 
 his duty and brave enough to face what to him was 
 the bitterness of death, for well she knew what his 
 mother was to him. 
 
 " He will go," she whispered to her looking-glass, 
 
84 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " and I'd go with him to-morrow. But" and heir 
 face flamed hot " he must never know." 
 
 But he did come to know, to his own great amaze- 
 ment and overwhelming, humbling gladness. 
 
 Shock's determination to offer himself to the far 
 West awakened in his friends various emotions. 
 
 " It is just another instance of how religious fanati- 
 cism will lead men to the most fantastic and selfish 
 acts," was Mrs. Fairbanks' verdict, which effected in 
 Brown a swift conversion. Hitherto he had striven 
 with might and main to turn Shock from his pur- 
 pose, using any and every argument, fair or unfair, 
 to persuade him that his work lay where it had been 
 begun, in the city wards. He was the more urged to 
 this course that he had shrewdly guessed Helen's 
 secret, so sacredly guarded. But on hearing Mrs. 
 Fairbanks' exclamation, he at once plunged into a 
 warm defence of his friend's course. 
 
 " The finest thing I ever heard of," he declared. 
 " No one knows what these two are to each other, and 
 yet there they are, both of them, arriving at the 
 opinion that Shock's work lies in the West." 
 
 " But to leave his mother alone ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Fairbanks indignantly. 
 
 " She is not to be alone," said Brown, making there 
 and then a sudden resolve. " By the greatest of luck 
 for me I am turned out of my quarters, and she is to 
 take me in, and while I can't fill Shock's place, still 
 I am somebody," added Brown, fervently hoping the 
 old lady would not refuse him shelter. 
 
 " I am not sure that a man is ever called to Jeave 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 85 
 
 his mother to the care of strangers," said Lloyd, who, 
 after long indecision and much consultation with 
 various friends, had determined that his particular 
 gifts and training fitted him for Park Church. 
 
 " Oh ! blank it all ! " said Brown to Helen, " I can't 
 stand that rot ! " 
 
 "I beg jour pardon," said Mrs. Fairbanks, look- 
 ing haughtily at Brown through her glasses. 
 , " I was about to say," replied Brown, in the sweetest 
 of tones, " that if these two who are most interested, 
 and who are extremely sane and reasonable persons, 
 have come to an agreement upon a question, I'd bank 
 on that decision as being about the thing." At which 
 Helen gave his arm a quick squeeze. 
 
 /* WeU, mother," said Betty, " I think he's fine, and 
 I never admired him so much as now. You know he 
 may never see her again, and she has the whole of his 
 heart." 
 
 " Not quite, I guess," said Brown in a low tone to 
 Helen, who, blushing vividly, replied in like tone, 
 " You seem to be remarkably well informed." 
 
 " I know," said Brown confidently. " But he is a 
 mine of blind stupidity ! If some one would dig him 
 up, explore him blast him, in short! Confound 
 him!" 
 
 But when the Superintendent learned of all that 
 Shock's decision involved, he made a point to insert 
 among his multitudinous engagements a visit to the 
 Macgregor cottage. 
 
 " It was a great scene, I assure you," said Brown, 
 who was describing it afterwards to the young ladies. 
 
86 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Those two old Spartans, all ice and granite outside, 
 all molten lava within, stood up looking at each other 
 a minute or two without the quiver of an eyelid and 
 then the old chief burred out : 
 
 " ' You are to be congratulated upon your son, Mrs. 
 Macgregor.' ' 
 
 " 'Ay,' said she in a matter of fact tone, ' he will 
 be doing his duty, I warrant.' ' 
 
 " 'And, believe me, your mutual sacrifice has not 
 been unnoticed.' ' 
 
 " ' It is not great beside His own, but it iss all we 
 could. It iss our life.' ' 
 
 " The old chap bowed like a prince and then his 
 voice burred like a buzz saw as he answered, ' Remem- 
 ber I did not ask you for him ! ' " 
 
 " ' No, it wass not you.' " 
 
 " 'But I want to tell you,' said the chief, ' I am 
 proud to get a son who for the Cause can forsake 
 such a mother, and I thank God for the mother that 
 can give up such a son.' " 
 
 " And then he gripped her hand with that down- 
 ward pull of his, he gave it to me once when he heard 
 I was Shock's friend, and nearly jerked me off my 
 feet, and without more words he was gone, while I 
 stood behind them like a blubbering idiot." 
 
 66 Oh, isn't she a dear ! " exclaimed Betty, " poor 
 thing." 
 
 " Poor thing ! " echoed Helen warmly, " indeed she 
 doesn't think so. She's as proud of him as she 
 can be, and feels herself rich in his love; and so 
 she is." 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 87 
 
 Her tone and manner struck Brown with sudden 
 pity. 
 
 " Hang his stupidity ! " he said to himself, " can't 
 the old bloke see. But he has not such a blamed low 
 opinion of himself that he can't imagine any girl, 
 much less a girl like that, looking at him, and even 
 if he did come to see it he would not think of asking 
 her to share the life he's going to out there ; and, by 
 Jove! it would be hard enough for her. I guess I 
 won't take the responsibility of interfering in this 
 business." 
 
 But Brown had no need to interfere. Mrs. Fair- 
 banks, of all people, did what was necessary. On the 
 morning of Shock's departure it was she who de- 
 clared that someone should take pity on " that dear 
 old lady," and should stand by her in her hour of 
 " desertion." 
 
 " So I think I shall drive over this afternoon ; and, 
 Helen, perhaps you had better come with me. You 
 seem to have great influence with her." 
 
 But Helen was of quite another mind. She shrank 
 from intruding upon what she knew would be a sacred 
 hour to mother and son. But when Mrs. Fairbanks 
 expressed her determination to go Helen finally agreed 
 to accompany her. 
 
 " Oh, let's all go, mother," said Betty. 
 
 "I do not think they will want you, Betty, but 
 you may go along," and so the three ladies proceeded 
 in the afternoon to the Macgregor home. 
 
 But at the parting of Shock and his mother there 
 were no tears or lamentations, or at least none that 
 
88 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 any could witness. Through the long night before, 
 they each knew the other to be keeping the watch of 
 love and agony ; yet, each alone, they drank the cup of 
 sacrifice. It was only when the morning was nearing 
 that Shock could bear it no longer, and hastily dress- 
 ing he came into his mother's room and kneeling by 
 her bedside put his arms about her. 
 
 " Mother, mother, why have you not been sleep- 
 ing? " he whispered. 
 
 His mother turned to him and took his head to her 
 bosom in a close embrace, but no words came from 
 her. 
 
 " But, mother, don't be grieving like this," sobbed 
 Shock, " or how can I leave you at all." 
 
 " Laddie, laddie, why did you come in to me ? I 
 had minded to give you up without tears, and this 
 iss my hour of weakness. There now, let your head 
 lie there* Whist! lad, och-hone. It iss twenty-four 
 years. since first you lay there, lad, and though grief 
 hass come to me many's the day, yet never through 
 you, never once through you, and you will be remem- 
 bering that, lad. It will comfort you after after 
 after I'm gone." 
 
 " Gone, mother ! " cried Shock in surprise. 
 
 " Yess, for this iss the word given to me this night, 
 that you will see my face no more." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! mother ! don't say that word, for I 
 cannot bear it," and poor Shock buried his face in the 
 pillow, while his great frame shook with sobs. 
 
 "Whist now, laddie! There now. It iss the 
 Lord." 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 89 
 
 Her voice grew steady and grave. "It iss the 
 Lord, and He gave you to me for these few happy 
 years, and, Shock, man, you will be heeding me." 
 
 Shock turned his face toward her again and laid his 
 face close to her cheek. 
 
 "Remember, I gave you to Himself in convenant 
 that day, and that covenant you will keep now and 
 afterwards, and I must be keeping it too." 
 
 " Yes, mother," said Shock brokenly, while he held 
 her tight. " But it is only for two years, and then 
 I will be coming home, or you to me, and before that, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " Yes, yes, laddie, it may be it may be," said his 
 mother soothingly, " but whether or no, we will not 
 be taking back with the one hand what we give with 
 the other. I had minded to give you without tears, 
 but but oh, lad, you are all all all I have. 
 There is no one left to me." 
 
 There was a long silence between them. Under 
 cover of darkness they let their tears freely mingle. 
 In all his life Shock had never seen his mother 
 sob, and now he was heart-stricken with grief and 
 terror. 
 
 " Whist now, mother, you must not cry like that. 
 Surely God will be good to us, and before long I will 
 get a little place for you yonder. Why should you 
 not come to me? There are missionaries' wives out 
 there," he said. 
 
 " No, lad," his mother replied quietly, " I will not 
 be deceiving myself, nor you. And yet it may be 
 the Lord's will. But go away now and lie you down. 
 
90 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 You will need to sleep a bit, to-morrow will be a hard 
 day to you." 
 
 For twenty years and more she had thought first 
 of her boy, and now, even in the midst of her own 
 great sorrow, she thought mostly of him and his 
 grief. 
 
 " Let me stay here, mother," whispered Shock. And 
 so in each other's arms they lay, and from sheer ex- 
 haustion both soon fell asleep. 
 
 The morning's sun was shining through the chink 
 by the curtain when Mrs. Macgregor awoke. Gently 
 she slipped out of the bed and before dressing lighted 
 the kitchen fire, put on the kettle for the tea and the 
 pot for the porridge. Then she dressed herself and 
 stepping about on tiptoe prepared breakfast, peering 
 in now and then at her sleeping son. 
 
 It was with a face calm and strong, and even bright, 
 that she went in at last to waken him. 
 
 " Now, mother," exclaimed Shock, springing off 
 the bed, " this is really too bad, and I meant to give 
 you your breakfast in bed to-day." 
 
 " Ay, it's myself knew that much," she cried with 
 a little laugh of delight. 
 
 "Oh, but you're hard to manage," said Shock 
 severely, " but wait until I get you out yonder in my 
 own house." 
 
 " Ay, lad," answered his mother brightly, " it will 
 be your turn then." 
 
 They were determined, these two, to look only at 
 the bright side to-day. No sun should shine upon 
 their tears. The parting would be sore enough with 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 91 
 
 all the help that hope could bring. And so the morn- 
 ing passed in last preparations for Shock's going, and 
 the last counsels and promises, and in planning for 
 the new home that was to be made in the shadow of the 
 Rockies in the far West. 
 
 " And the time will soon pass, mother," said Shock 
 cheerfully, "and it will be good for you to have 
 Brown with you. He will need your care, you know," 
 he hastened to add, knowing well that not for her own 
 sake could she have been persuaded to receive even 
 Brown into her little home. 
 
 " Ay, I will do for him what I can," she replied, 
 " and indeed," she added warmly, " he's a kind lad, 
 poor fellow." 
 
 " And the young ladies will be looking in on you 
 now and then, so they said," and Shock bent low over 
 his trunk working with the roping of it. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," replied his mother heartily, " never 
 you fear." 
 
 And so with united and determined purpose they 
 kept at arm's length the heart's sorrow they knew 
 would fall upon each when alone. 
 
 To go to the ends of the earth in these globe-trot- 
 ting days is attended with little anxiety, much less 
 heart-break, but in those days when Canada was cut 
 off at the Lakes, the land beyond was a wilderness^ 
 untravelled for the most part but by the Indian or 
 trapper, and considered a fit dwelling place only for 
 the Hudson Bay officer kept there by his loyalty to 
 " the Company," or the half-breed runner to whom 
 it was native land, or the more adventurous land- 
 
n THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 hungry settler, or the reckless gold-fevered miner,, 
 Only under some great passion did men leave home 
 and those dearer than life, and casting aside dreams of 
 social, commercial, or other greatness, devote them- 
 selves to life on that rude frontier. But such a pas- 
 sion had seized upon Shock, and in it his mother 
 shared. Together these two simple souls, who were 
 all in all to each other, made their offering for the 
 great cause, bringing each their all without stint, 
 without measure, without grudging, though not with- 
 out heart-break, and gaining that full exquisite joy, 
 to so many unknown, of love's complete sacrifice. 
 
 To none but themselves, however, was the greatness 
 of the sacrifice apparent. For when the carriage 
 arrived with Mrs. Fairbanks and her daughters there 
 was no sign of tears or heart-break in the quiet faces 
 that welcomed them. And Mrs. Fairbanks, who had 
 come prepared to offer overflowing sympathy to the 
 old lady " deserted " by her " fanatical " son, was 
 somewhat taken aback by the quiet dignity and per- 
 fect control that distinguished the lady's voice and 
 manner. After the first effusive kiss, which Mrs. 
 Fairbanks hurried to bestow and which Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor suffered with calm surprise, it became diffi- 
 cult to go on with the programme of tearful consola- 
 tion which had been prepared. There seemed hardly 
 a place for sympathy, much less for tearful consola- 
 tion, in this well-ordered home, and with these self- 
 sufficient folk. 
 
 " We thought we would like to come over and and 
 help, perhaps drive you to the station to see your 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 93 
 
 son off," said Mrs. Fairbanks, who was readjusting 
 her scenery and changing her role with all speed. 
 
 "That was kind, indeed," said Mrs. Macgregor, 
 " but Hamish will be walking, I doubt, and I will just 
 be waiting at home." 
 
 She had the instinct of the wounded to hide in some 
 sheltered and familiar haunt. 
 
 "I shall be glad to remain with you, Mrs. Mac- 
 gregor, if I can be of any service," repeated Mrso 
 Fairbanks. 
 
 " It will not be necessary ; everything is done, and 
 there is nothing needed." 
 
 The voice was more than quiet, as if it came from 
 a heart whose passion had been spent. 
 
 " It is very kind, indeed, and we are grateful," said 
 Shock, feeling that his mother's manner might be mis- 
 understood. 
 
 " Yess, yess," said the old lady hastily, " it iss 
 very good of you and of the young ladies," turning 
 to look at Helen with kindly eyes. " You will not be 
 thinking me ungrateful," she added with a suspicion 
 of tears in her voice. " I have been spoiled by 
 Hamish yonder," turning her face toward her son. 
 
 " Whist now, mother," said Hamish to her in a low 
 tone, in which depreciation and warning were mingled. 
 He knew how hard the next hour would be for himself 
 and for his mother, and he knew, too, that they could 
 not indulge themselves in the luxury of uttered grief 
 and love. At this moment, to the relief of all, Brown 
 entered with an exaggerated air of carelessness. 
 
 "Here's a man for your 'settlers effects,'" he 
 
94. THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 cried cheerily. " Lucky dog, aint he," he cried, turn- 
 ing to Helen, " and don't I wish I was in his place. 
 Think of the times he will have riding over the claims 
 with those jolly cowboys, not to speak of the 
 claims he will be staking, and the gold he will be wash- 
 ing out of those parish streams of his. Don't I wish I 
 were going ! I am, too, when I can persuade those old 
 iron-livered professors to let me through. However, 
 next year I'm to pass. Mrs. Macgregor is to see 
 to that." 
 
 " Indeed, I hope so," cried Betty, " an hour's study, 
 at least, before breakfast and no gallivanting at night. 
 I will help you, Mrs. Macgregor. We will get him 
 through this time." 
 
 " Ay 9 1 doubt I will not be much the better of your 
 help," replied Mrs. Macgregor, with a shrewd kindly 
 smile. 
 
 " There now, take that," said Brown to Betty, add- 
 ing ruefully to Shock, " You see what I'm in for." 
 
 " You'll survive," said Shock. 
 
 Then he rose and lifted his coat from the peg be- 
 hind the door. At the same instant Helen rose hur- 
 riedly and with paling face said to her mother : " Let 
 us go now." 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Macgregor, if we cannot serve you we 
 will be going," said Mrs. Fairbanks ; " but we would 
 be glad to drive Mr. Macgregor to the station." 
 
 She was anxious to justify her visit to herself and 
 her friends. 
 
 " That's a first-rate idea," cried Brown, " that is, if 
 you can give me a liftv too." 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 95 
 
 " Of course," cried Betty. 
 
 " Thank you, I shall be very glad," said Shock, 
 seeing it would please Mrs. Fairbanks. 
 
 " Come along, then," said Betty. " I suppose we 
 have not too much time." 
 
 " Good-bye, for the present," said Mrs. Fairbanks^ 
 offering her hand to the old lady, who was standing 
 erect, white but calm, facing the hour whose bitter- 
 ness she had already tasted. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Betty softly, kissing the white 
 cheek, and trying to hurry her mother towards the 
 door. 
 
 At this, Helen, who had been standing with face 
 growing whiter and whiter, went to Mrs. Macgregor 
 and put her arms around her and kissed her good-bye, 
 When she was nearing the door she came hurriedly 
 back. " Oh, let me stay with you. I cannot bear to 
 go," she whispered. 
 
 The old lady turned and scrutinised steadily the 
 young face turned so pleadingly toward her. Slowly 
 under that steady gaze the red crept up into the white 
 cheek, like the first dawning of day, till the whole face 
 and neck were in a hot flame of colour. Yet the grey, 
 lustrous eyes never wavered, but, unshrinking, an- 
 swered the old lady's searching look. At that reveal- 
 ing wave of colour Shock's mother made as if to push 
 the girl away from her, but, with a quick change of 
 mood, she took her in her arms instead. 
 
 " Ay, poor lassie, you too ! Yes, yes, you ma j 
 stay with me now." 
 
 The motherly touch and tone and the knowledge 
 
96 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 that her secret had been read were more than Helen 
 could bear. She clung to Mrs. Macgregor, sobbing 
 passionate sobs. 
 
 At this extraordinary outburst Mrs. Fairbanks 
 came back into the room and stood with Shock and 
 the others gazing in utter amazement upon this scene. 
 
 " Whist now, lassie, whist now," Mrs. Macgregor 
 was saying, " never you fear, he'll come back again." 
 
 " What on earth is this nonsense, Helen ? " Mrs. 
 Fairbanks' voice was haughty and suspicious. " What 
 does this mean ? " 
 
 " It means," said Mrs. Macgregor with quiet dig- 
 nity, " what neither you nor I can help or harm." 
 
 " Helen, speak to me." 
 
 At the stern command Helen lifted her face, still 
 hot with blushes, and stood looking straight into 
 her mother's eyes. Her mother turned from her 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Do you know what this means ? " she said to 
 Shock. 
 
 " What? I don't understand," replied Shock, gazing 
 helplessly at the haughty, angry face turned toward 
 him. 
 
 " Have you dared to speak to my daughter? " 
 
 " Oh, mamma," cried Helen, in an agony of morti- 
 fication, " how can you? " 
 
 " You may well be ashamed," said Mrs. Fairbanks, 
 who had quite lost control of herself, " throwing your- 
 self at the head of a man so far beneath you, with no 
 prospects, and who does not even want you." 
 
 " So far beneath, did you say? " cried Mrs. Mac- 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 97 
 
 gregor quickly. " Woman, say no more. You shame 
 yourself, let alone your child. Whist," checking 
 the other's speech " the blood in the veins of Hector 
 Macgregor yonder " (pointing to the portrait of the 
 Highland soldier on the wall) " was as proud as that 
 in any Lowland trader of you." 
 
 " What sort of conduct, then, is this ? " answered 
 Mrs. Fairbanks angrily. " Have you encouraged 
 your son ? " 
 
 " Hush, mother," said Shock, suddenly awakening 
 tc an understanding of what was happening, " let me 
 speak." 
 
 The stern voice compelled silence. Shock was a 
 new man to them all. He was thinking quickly now 
 for his mother, for himself, but most of all for the girl 
 he loved, who stood with face turned away and eyes 
 cast down in intolerable humiliation. 
 
 " Mrs. Fairbanks," said Shock, speaking slowly and 
 with quiet dignity, " if I have not spoken of love to 
 your daughter, it is not because I have not loved her 
 well and for long, but because I could not feel myself 
 worthy of her. Hush, mother; I am not worthy of 
 her, nor shall I ever be, not by reason of any differ- 
 ence in blood, for there is no difference, but because 
 of what she is herself, so far above me. I have never 
 spoken with my lips of love, and yet for many and 
 many a day I have feared that my eyes, and all else 
 that could speak, must have told her I loved her. And 
 if it should be for I will not pretend to misunder- 
 stand you if it should be that it is possible she 
 should ever love me, then there has come to me a joy 
 
98 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 greater than I could have hoped, and whatever may 
 come of it, this day is the happiest of my life." 
 
 As Shock began to speak, Helen lifted her face, 
 and as she listened her look of grief and shame fled, 
 and in her eyes a light of joy began to dawn, then 
 grew till it seemed to overflow in waves across her 
 beautiful face. And as Shock continued his calm, 
 manly words pride mingled in her joy, and her head 
 lifted itself with a grace and dignity that matched 
 that of the old lady standing by her side. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbanks stood fairly speechless at Shock's 
 words and at the look of joy and pride she saw upon 
 her daughter's face. 
 
 " This is absurd ! " she cried at length. " It's pre- 
 posterous, and it must end now and forever. I forbid 
 absolutely anything in the way of of engagement 
 or understanding. I will not have my daughter tie 
 herself to a man with such prospects." 
 
 " Wait, mother," said Shock, putting his hand out 
 toward the old lady, who was about to speak. " Mrs. 
 Fairbanks," he continued quietly, " far be it from me 
 to take advantage of your daughter in any way, and I 
 say to you here that she is as free now as when she 
 came into this room. 1 shall not ask her to bind her- 
 self to me, but I will be false to myself, and false to 
 her, if I do not say that I love her as dearly as man 
 ever loved woman, and come what may, I shall love her 
 till I die." 
 
 The ring in Shock's voice as he spoke the last words 
 thrilled everyone in the room. 
 
 " Ay, lad, that you will," said his mother proudly. 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 99 
 
 " Oh, aint he great," whispered Brown to Betty, 
 who in her excitement had drawn close to him. 
 
 Betty responded with a look, but could not trust 
 herself to speak. 
 
 The moment was pregnant with possibilities. 
 
 As Shock finished speaking, Helen, with an inde- 
 scribable mingling of shy grace and calm strength, 
 came and stood by his side. For the first time Shock 
 lost control of himself. He flushed hotly, then grew 
 pale, then with a slightly defiant look in his face, he 
 put his arm lightly about her. 
 
 " Time for that train," said Brown, who had slipped 
 to the outer door. " That is," he continued in his 
 briskest manner, " if you're going." 
 
 With a quick gasp Helen turned towards Shock. 
 He tightened his arm about the girl, and putting his 
 hand upon her shoulder, turned her face toward him 
 and looked down into her face. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said gently. " Remember you are 
 free, free as ever you were. I have no claim upon 
 you, but don't forget that I will always love you. I 
 will never forget you," 
 
 " Good-bye, Shock," she replied in a low, sweet 
 tone, lifting her face to him. " I will not forget. 
 You know I will not forget." 
 
 She slipped her arm around his neck, and while his 
 great frame trembled with emotion she held him fast. 
 "I'll not forget," she said again, the light in her 
 great grey eyes quenched in a quick rush of tears. 
 "You know, Shock, I will not forget." Her lips 
 quivered piteously. 
 
100 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Then Shock cast restraint to the winds. " No," he 
 cried aloud, " you will not forget, thank God, you will 
 not forget, and you are mine!" 
 
 He drew her close to him, held her a moment or two, 
 looking into her eyes, and as she lay limp and cling- 
 ing in his arms he kissed her on the brow, and then 
 on the lips, and gave her to his mother. 
 
 " Here, mother," he said, " take her, be good to 
 her, love her for my sake." 
 
 He put his arms around his mother, kissed her twice, 
 and was gone. 
 
 " He'll never get that train," cried Betty. 
 
 " Take the carriage," said Mrs. Fairbanks shortly, 
 " and follow him." 
 
 " Come along ! hurry ! " said Betty, catching 
 Brown's arm. 
 
 "The station, John!" 
 
 " Oh, I say," gasped Brown, seizing Betty's hand 
 and crushing it ecstatically, " may I embrace you ? 
 It's either you or John there." 
 
 " Do be quiet. It seems to me we have had as much 
 of that sort of thing as I can stand. Wasn't it 
 awful? " 
 
 "Awful? Awfully jolly!" gasped Brown, hug- 
 ging himself. " Haven't had a thrill approach- 
 ing that since the McGill match, and even that 
 was only a pale adumbration of what I've just been 
 through." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know what to think. It's so 
 dreadfully startling." 
 
 " Startling ! " cried Brown. " Come now, Miss 
 
"YEA, AND HIS OWN LIFE ALSO" 101 
 
 Betty, you don't mean to say you haven't seen this 
 growing for the past six months ! " 
 
 " No, truly I haven't." 
 
 " Well, that's only because you have been so occu- 
 pied with your own affairs." 
 
 "Nonsense," cried Betty indignantly, with a sud- 
 den flame of colour in her cheeks. " You're quite 
 rude." 
 
 " I don't care for anything now," cried Brown 
 recklessly. " My prayers, tears, and alms-giving 
 haven't been without avail. The terrors and agonies 
 I've endured this last few days lest that old blockhead 
 should take himself off without saying or doing any- 
 thing, no man will ever know. And he would have 
 gone off, too, had it not been for that lucky fluke of 
 your mother's. Do you mind if I yell? " 
 
 " Hush ! Here, let my hand go, it's quite useless," 
 said Betty, looking at that member which Brown had 
 just relinquished. 
 
 " John," gravely enquired Brown, " are you using 
 both your hands ? " 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir," enquired the astonished coach- 
 man, half turning round. 
 
 " Here, do stop your nonsense," cried Betty in a 
 shocked voice. 
 
 "Oh, all right, John, this will do," said Brown, 
 seizing Betty's hand again, as John gave his atten- 
 tion to the horses. 
 
 " I say, pull up beside Mr. Macgregor there, will 
 you? Here, Shock, get in. You'll miss your train. 
 Here, you old bloke, come along, don't gape like a 
 
$02 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 sick duck. Get in here. You have got to get that 
 train now." 
 
 " Mr. Brown," said Betty in a severe whisper, 
 " mind, don't say a word to him about this business. 
 I can't stand it." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Brown, in a matter of fact 
 tone. " There's nothing to be said." 
 
 But there was one last word to be said, and that was 
 Betty's. 
 
 " Good-bye, Shock," she whispered to him, as he 
 stepped upon his train. " I think I know I'm 
 very glad." 
 
 Poor Shock could only grasp her hand in mute 
 farewell. It was just dawning upon him that he had 
 some further offering to bring to make his sacrifice 
 complete. 
 
VI 
 ON THE TR&IL 
 
 r-pl HAT'S the traU. Loon Lake lie* 
 1 yonder." 
 
 Shock's Convener, who had charge for 
 his Church of this district, stood by the 
 buck-board wheel pointing southwest. He was a 
 man about middle life, rather short but well set up, 
 with a strong, honest face, tanned and bearded, re- 
 deemed abundantly from commonness by the eye, deep 
 blue and fearless, that spoke of the genius in the soul. 
 It was a kindly face withal, and with humour lurking 
 about the eyes and mouth. During the day and 
 night spent with him Shock had come to feel that in 
 this man there was anchorage for any who might feel 
 themselves adrift, and somehow the great West, with 
 its long leagues of empty prairie through which he 
 had passed, travelling by the slow progress of con- 
 struction trains, would now seem a little less empty 
 because of this man. Between the new field toward 
 which this trail led and the home and folk in the far 
 East there would always be this man who would know 
 him, and would sometimes be thinking of him. The 
 thought heartened Shock more than a little. 
 
 "That's the trail," repeated the Convener; "fol- 
 low that ; it will lead you to your home." 
 
 "Home!" thought Shock with a tug at his heart 
 and a queer little smile on his face. 
 
JQ4 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Yes, a man's home is where his heart is, and his 
 heart is where his work lies." 
 
 Shock glanced quickly at the man's tanned face. 
 Did he suspect, Shock wondered, the homesickness 
 and the longing in his heart? 
 
 Last night, as they had sat together in late talk, 
 he had drawn from Shock witK cunning skill (those 
 who knew him would recognise the trick) the picture 
 of his new missionary's home, and had interpreted 
 aright the thrill in the voice that told of the old lady 
 left behind. But now, as Shock glanced at his Con- 
 vener's face, there was nothing to indicate any hidden 
 meaning in his words. The speaker's eyes were far 
 down the trail that wound like a wavering white rib- 
 bon over the yellow-green billows of prairie that 
 reached to the horizon before and up to the great 
 mountains on the right. 
 
 "Twenty miles will bring you to Spruce Creek 
 stopping-place; twenty miles more and you are at 
 Big River not so very big either. You will see there 
 a little school and beside it, on the left, a little house 
 you might call it a shack, but we make the most of 
 things out here. That's Mr. Mclntyre's manse, and 
 proud of it they all are, I can tell you. You will stay 
 with him over night a fine fellow you will find him, 
 a Nova Scotian, very silent; and better than himself 
 is the little brave woman he has for a wife ; a really 
 superior woman. I sometimes wonder but never 
 mind, for people doubtless wonder at our wives: one 
 can never get at the bottom of the mystery of why: 
 some women do it. They will see you on your way. 
 
ON THE TRAIL 105 
 
 Up to this time he was the last man we had in that 
 direction. Now you are our outpost a distinction I 
 envy you." 
 
 The Convener's blue eye was alight with enthusi- 
 asm. The call of the new land was ever ringing in 
 his heart, and the sound of the strife at the front in 
 his ear. 
 
 Unconsciously Shock drew in a long breath, the 
 homesickness and heart-longing gave back before 
 the spirit of high courage and enterprise which 
 breathed through the words of the little man beside 
 him, whose fame was in all the Western Church. 
 
 " Up these valleys somewhere," continued the Con- 
 vener, waving his hands towards the southern sky-line, 
 " are the men the ranchers and cowboys I told you 
 of last night. Some good men, and some of them 
 devils men good by nature, devils by circumstance, 
 poor fellows. They won't want you, perhaps, but 
 they need you badly. And the Church wants them, 
 and " after a little pause " God wants them." 
 
 The Convener paused, still looking at the distant 
 flowing hills. Then he turned to Shock and said 
 solemnly, " We look to you to get them." 
 
 Shock gasped. " To me ! to get them ! " 
 
 "Yes, that's what we expect. Why! do you 
 remember the old chap I told you about that old pros- 
 pector who lives at Loon Lake? you will come across 
 him, unless he has gone to the mountains. For 
 thirteen years that man has hunted the gulches for 
 mines. There are your mines," waving his hand 
 again, " and you are our prospector. Dig them up. 
 
106 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Good-bye. God bless you. Report to me in six 
 months." 
 
 The Convener looked at his fingers after Shock 
 had left, spreading them apart. "Well, what that 
 chap grips he'll hold until he wants to let it go," he 
 said to himself, wrinkling his face into a curious 
 smile. 
 
 Now and then as he walked along the trail he turned 
 and looked after the buckboard heading toward the 
 southern horizon, but never once did his missionary 
 look back. 
 
 " I think he will do. He made a mess of my service 
 last night, but I suppose he was rattled, and then no 
 one could be more disgusted than he, which is not a 
 bad sign. His heart's all right, and he will work, 
 but he's slow. He's undoubtedly slow. Those fel- 
 lows will give him a time, I fear," and again the Con- 
 vener smiled to himself. As he came to the brow of 
 the hill, where the trail dipped into the river bottom 
 in which the little town lay that constituted the nu- 
 cleus of his parish, he paused and, once more turning, 
 looked after the diminishing buckboard. u He won't 
 look back, eh ! All right, my man. I like you better 
 for it. It must have been a hard pull to leave that 
 dear old lady behind. He might bring her out. 
 There are just the two of them. Well, we will see. 
 It's pretty close shaving." 
 
 He was thinking of the threatened cut in the al- 
 ready meagre salaries of his missionaries, rendered 
 necessary by the disproportion between the growth of 
 the funds and the expansion of the work. 
 
ON THE TRAIL 107 
 
 "It's a shame, too," he said, turning and looking 
 once more after Shock in case there should be a final 
 signal of farewell, which he would be sorry to miss. 
 
 " They're evidently everything to each other." But 
 it was an old problem with the Convener, whose solu- 
 tion lay not with him, but with the church that sent 
 him out to do this work. 
 
 Meantime Shock's eyes were upon the trail, and his 
 heart was ringing with that last word of his Con- 
 vener. " We expect you to get them. You are our 
 prospector, dig them up." As he thought of the 
 work that lay before him, and of all he was expected 
 to achieve, his heart sank. These wild, independent 
 men of the West were not at all like the degraded men 
 of the ward, fawning or sullen, who had been his 
 former and only parishioners. A horrible fear had 
 been growing upon him ever since his failure, as he 
 considered it, with the Convener's congregation the 
 night before. It helped him not at all to remember 
 the kindly words of encouragement spoken by the 
 Convener, nor the sympathy that showed in his wife's 
 voice and manner. " They felt sorry for me," he 
 groaned aloud. He set his jaws hard, as men had seen 
 him when going into a scrim on the football field. 
 "I'll do my best whatever," he said aloud, looking 
 before him at the waving horizon ; " a man can only 
 fail. But surely I can help some poor chap out 
 yonder." His eyes followed the waving foot-hill line 
 till they rested on the mighty masses of the Rockies. 
 " Ay," he said with a start, dropping into his mother's 
 speech, " there they are, ' the hills from whence 
 
108 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 cometh my help.' Surely, I do not think He would 
 send me out here to fail." 
 
 There they lay, that mighty wrinkling of Mother 
 Earth's old face, huge, jagged masses of bare grey 
 rock, patched here and there, and finally capped with 
 white where they pierced the blue. Up to their base 
 ran the lumbering foot-hills, and still further up the 
 grey sides, like attacking columns, the dark daring 
 pines swarmed in massed battlions ; then, where ravines 
 gave them footing, in regiments, then in outpost 
 pickets, and last of all in lonely rigid sentinels. But 
 far above the loneliest sentinel pine, cold, white, serene, 
 shone the peaks. The Highland blood in Shock's 
 veins stirred to the call of the hills. Glancing around 
 to make sure he was quite alone he had almost never 
 been where he could be quite sure that he would not 
 be heard Shock raised his voice in a shout, again, 
 and, expanding his lungs to the full, once again. 
 How small his voice seemed, how puny his strength, 
 how brief his life, in the presence of those silent, 
 mighty, ancient ranges with their hoary faces and 
 snowy heads. Awed by their solemn silence, and by 
 the thought of their ancient, eternal, unchanging en- 
 durance, he repeated to himself in a low tone the words 
 of the ancient Psalm: 
 
 " Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place, 
 
 In generations all, 
 Before Thou ever hadst brought forth 
 
 The mountains, great or small ! " 
 
 How exalting are the mountains and how humbling ! 
 How lonely and how comforting ! How awesome and 
 
ON THE TRAIL 109 
 
 how kindly! How relentless and how sympathetic! 
 Reflecting every mood of man, they add somewhat to 
 his nobler stature and diminish somewhat his ignobler 
 self. To all true appeal they give back answer, but 
 to the heart regarding iniquity, like God, they make 
 no response, , They never obtrude themselves, but 
 they smile upon his joys, and in his sorrow offer silent 
 sympathy, and ever as God's messengers they bid him 
 remember that with all their mass man is mightier 
 than they, that when the slow march of the pines shall 
 have trod down their might's dust, still with the dew of 
 eternal youth fresh upon his brow will he be with 
 God. 
 
 Then and there in Shock's heart there sprang up 
 a kindly feeling for the mountains that through all 
 his varying experiences never left him. They were 
 always there, steadfastly watchful by day like the 
 eye of God, and at night while he slept keeping un- 
 slumbering guard like Jehovah himself. All day as 
 he drove up the interminable slopes and down again, 
 the mountains kept company with him, as friends 
 might. So much so that he caught himself, more than 
 once after moments of absorption, glancing up at 
 them with hasty penitence. He had forgotten them, 
 but unoffended they had been watching and waiting 
 for him. 
 
 A little after noon Shock found the trail turn in 
 toward a long, log, low-roofed building, which seemed 
 to have been erected in sections, with an irregular 
 group of sod-roofed out-houses clustering about. 
 
 An old man lounged against the jamb of the open 
 cioor. \ 
 
110 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Good day," said Shock politely. 
 
 The old man looked him over for a moment or two 
 and then answered as if making a concession of some 
 importance, " Good day, good day ! From town ? 
 Want to eat?" 
 
 A glance through the door, showing the remains 
 of dinner on a table, determined Shock. " No, I guess 
 I'll push on." 
 
 "All right," said the old man, his tone suggesting 
 that while it was a matter of supreme indifference 
 to him, to Shock it might be a somewhat serious con- 
 cern to neglect to eat in his house. 
 
 " This is Spruce Creek? " enquired Shock. 
 
 " Yes, I believe that's what they call it," said the 
 old man with slow deliberation, adding after a few 
 moments silence " because there ain't no spruces here." 
 
 Shock gave the expected laugh with such hearti- 
 ness that the old man deigned to take some little in- 
 terest in him. 
 
 "Cattle?" he enquired. 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Sport?" 
 
 " Well, a little, perhaps." 
 
 "Oh! Pospectin', eh? Well, land's pretty well 
 taken up in this vicinity, I guess." 
 
 To this old man there were no other interests in life 
 beyond cattle, sport, and prospcting that could ac- 
 count for the stranger's presence in this region. 
 
 "Yes," laughed Shock, "prospecting in a way 9 
 too." 
 
 The old man was obviously puzzled. 
 
ON THE TRAIL 111 
 
 " Well," he ventured, " come inside, anyway. 
 Pretty chilly wind that for April. Come right in !" 
 
 Shock stepped in. The old man drew nearer to 
 him. 
 
 "Pain-killer or lime-juice?" he enquired in an 
 insinuating voice. 
 
 "What?" said Shock. 
 
 " Pain-killer or lime-juice," winking and lowering 
 his voice to a confidential tone. 
 
 " Well, as I haven't got any pain I guess I'll take 
 a little lime-juice," replied Shock. 
 
 The old man gave him another wink, long and slow, 
 went to the corner of the room, pushed back a table, 
 pulled up a board from the floor, and extracted a 
 bottle. 
 
 "You's got to be mighty careful," he said. 
 " Them blank police fellers, instead of attending to 
 their business, nose round till a feller can't take no 
 rest at night." 
 
 He went to a shelf that stood behind the plank that 
 did for a counter, took down two glasses, and filled 
 them up. 
 
 " There," he said with great satisfaction, " you'll 
 find that's no back-yard brew." 
 
 Shock slowly lifted the glass and smelt it. " Why, 
 it's whisky ! " he said in a surprised tone. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" burst out the old man. "You're a 
 dandy; that's what it is at home." 
 
 He was delighted with his guest's fine touch of 
 humour. Shock hesitated a moment or two, looking 
 down at the whisky in the glass before him. 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " How much? " he said at length. 
 
 " Oh, we'll make that fifty cents to you," said the 
 old man carelessly. 
 
 Shock put down the money, lifted his glass slowly, 
 carried it to the door and threw the contents outside. 
 
 " Hold on there ! What the blank, blank do you 
 mean ? " The old man was over the counter with a 
 bound. 
 
 " It was mine," said Shock quietly. 
 
 " Yours," shouted the old man, beside himself with 
 rage ; " I aint goin' to stand no such insult as that." 
 
 "Insult!" 
 
 " What's the matter with that whisky? " 
 
 "All right as far as I know, but I wanted lime- 
 juice." 
 
 "Lime-juice!" The old man's amazement some- 
 what subdued his anger. "Lime-juice! Well, I'll 
 be blanked!" 
 
 "That's what I asked for," replied Shock good- 
 naturedly. 
 
 "Lime-juice!" repeated the old man. "But what 
 in blank, blank did you throw it out for ? " 
 
 "Why, what else could I do with it? " 
 
 "What else? See here, stranger, the hull popula- 
 tion of this entire vicinity isn't more than twenty-five 
 persons, but every last one of 'em twenty-five 'ud told 
 you what to do with it. Why didn't you give it 
 to me?" 
 
 " Why," said Shock in a surprised tone, " I don't 
 know the ways of your country, but where I come 
 from we don't take any man's leavings." 
 
ON THE TRAIL 113 
 
 This was new light upon the subject for the old 
 man. 
 
 "Well, now, see here, young man, if ever you're 
 in doubt again about a glass of whisky like that one 
 there, you just remark to yourself that while there 
 may be a few things you might do with it, there's 
 just one you can't. There's only one spot for 
 whisky, and that's inside some fellow that knows 
 something. Heavens and earth ! Didn't know what 
 to do with it, eh?" 
 
 He peered curiously into Shock's face as if he 
 found him an interesting study. 
 
 " No," said Shock seriously, " you see, I couldn't 
 drink it never did in my life." 
 
 The old man drew nearer to him. " Say," touching 
 him with his forefinger on the chest, " if I could only 
 be sure you'd keep fresh I'd put you in a case. 
 They'd come a mighty long way in this country to 
 see you, you bet." 
 
 Bill Lee's anger and disgust were giving place to 
 curiosity. 
 
 " What are you, anyway ? " he enquired. 
 
 " Well, my boss told me to-day I was a prospector." 
 Shock's mind reverted, as he spoke, to that last con- 
 versation with his Convener. 
 
 " Prospector," echoed the old man. " What for, 
 land, coal? " 
 
 " No, men." 
 
 "What?" The old man looked as if he could 
 not have heard aright. 
 
 "Men," said Shock again simply and earnestly. 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Bill was hopelessly puzzled. He tried to get at it 
 another way. 
 
 "What's your Company?" he enquired. "I 
 mean who are you working for?" 
 
 Before answering Shock paused, looking far past 
 Bill down the trail and then said solemnly, " God." 
 
 Bill started back from his companion with a gasp 
 of surprise. Was the man mad? Putting the in- 
 cident of the whisky and this answer of his together, 
 he might well be. 
 
 " Yes," said Shock, withdrawing his eyes from the 
 trail and facing Bill squarely. " That's my business. 
 I am after men." He drew from his pocket a small 
 Bible and read, " Follow me and I will make you 
 fishers of men." 
 
 When Bill saw the Bible he looked relieved, but 
 rather disgusted. 
 
 " Oh, I git you now! You're a preacher, eh? " 
 
 "Well," said Shock in a tone almost confidential, 
 " I'll tell you I'm not much of a preacher. I don't 
 think I'm cut out for that, somehow." Here Bill 
 brightened slightly. " I tried last night in town," 
 continued Shock, " and it was pretty bad. I don't 
 know who had the worst of it, the congregation or 
 myself. But it was bad." 
 
 "Thinkin' of quittin'?" Bill asked almost eagerly, 
 " Because if you are, I know a good job for a fellow 
 of your build and make." 
 
 " No, I can't quit. I have got to go on." Bill's 
 face fell. "And perhaps I can make up in some 
 other ways. I may be able to help some fellows a 
 
ON THE TRAIL 115 
 
 bit." The sincerity and humble earnestness of 
 Shock's tone quite softened Bill's heart. 
 
 "Well, there's lots of 'em need it," he said in his 
 gruff voice. " There's the blankest lot of fools on 
 these ranches you ever seen." 
 
 Shock became alert. He was on the track of 
 business. 
 
 " What's wrong with them ? " he enquired. 
 
 "Wrong? Why, they aint got no sense. They 
 stock up with cattle, horses, and outfit to beat crea- 
 tion, and then let the whole thing go to blazes." 
 
 "What's the matter with them?" persisted Shock, 
 " Are they lazy ? " 
 
 66 Lazy ! not a hair. But when they get together 
 over a barrel of beer or a keg of whisky they are 
 like a lot of hogs in a swill trough, and they won't 
 quit while they kin stand. That's no way for a 
 man to drink ! " continued Bill in deep disgust. 
 
 " Why, is not this a Prohibition country ? " 
 
 "Oh! Prohibition be blanked! When any man 
 kin get a permit for all he wants to use, besides all 
 that the whisky men bring in, what's the good of 
 Prohibition?" 
 
 " I see," said Shock. " Poor chaps. It must be 
 pretty slow for them here." 
 
 "Slow!" exclaimed Bill. "That aint no reason 
 for a man's bein' a fool. I aint no saint, but I know 
 when to quit." 
 
 " Well, you're lucky," said Shock. " Because I have 
 seen lots of men that don't, and they're the fellows 
 that need a little help, don't you think so? " 
 
116 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Bill squirmed a little uneasily. 
 
 " You can't keep an eye on all the fools unless you 
 round 'em up in corral," he grunted. 
 
 " No. But a man can keep from thinking more of 
 a little tickling in his stomach than he does of the 
 life of his fellowman." 
 
 " Well, what I say is," replied Bill, " every fellow's 
 got to look after himself." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Shock, " and a little after the other 
 fellows, too. If a man is sick " 
 
 " Oh ! now you're speakin'," interrupted Bill 
 eagerly. " Why, certainly." 
 
 " Or if he is not very strong." 
 
 " Why, of course." 
 
 " Now, don't you think," said Shock very earnestly, 
 " that kicking a man along that is already sliding 
 toward a precipice is pretty mean business, but snatch- 
 ing him back and bracing him up is worth a man's 
 while?" 
 
 " Well, I guess," said Bill quietly. 
 
 " That's the business I'm trying to do," said Shock. 
 " I'd hate to help a man down who is already on the 
 incline. I think I'd feel mean, and if I can help one 
 man back to where it's safe, I think it's worth while, 
 don't you?" 
 
 Bill appeared uncomfortable. He could not get 
 angry, Shock's manner was so earnest, frank, respect- 
 ful, and sincere, and at the same time he was sharp 
 enough to see the bearing of Shock's remarks upon 
 what was at least a part of his business in life. 
 
 "Yes," repeated Shock with enthusiasm, "that's 
 
ON THE TRAIL 117 
 
 worth while. Now, look here, if you saw a man slid- 
 ing down one of those rocks there," pointing to the 
 great mountains in the distance, " to sure death, would 
 you let him slide, or would you put your hand out to 
 help him? " 
 
 " Well, I believe I'd try," said Bill slowly. 
 
 " But if there was good money in it for you," con- 
 tinued Shock, " you would send him along, eh ? " 
 
 " Say, stranger," cried Bill indignantly, " what do 
 you think I am? " 
 
 " Well," said Shock, " there's a lot of men sliding 
 down fast about here, you say. What are you doing 
 about it?" Shock's voice was quiet, solemn, almost 
 stern. 
 
 " I say," said Bill, " you'd best put up your horse 
 and feed. Yes, you've got to feed, both of you, and 
 this is the best place you'll find for twenty miles 
 round, so come right on. You're line ain't mine, but 
 you're white. I say, though," continued Bill, un- 
 hitching the cayuse, " it's a pity you've taken up that 
 preachin' business. I've not much use for that. Now, 
 with that there build of yours " Bill was evidently 
 impressed with Shock's form " you'd be fit for 
 almost anything." 
 
 Shock smiled and then grew serious. 
 
 " No," he said, " I've got to live only once, and 
 nothing else seemed good enough for a fellow's life." 
 
 "What, preachin'?" 
 
 " No. Stopping men from sliding over the preci- 
 pice and helping them back. The fact is," and Shock 
 looked over the cayuse's back into Bill's eyes, " every. 
 
118 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 man should take a hand at that. There's a lot of sat- 
 isfaction in it." 
 
 " Well, stranger," replied Bill, leading the way to 
 the stable, " I guess you're pretty near right, though 
 it's queer to hear me say it. There aint much in 
 anything, anyway. When your horse is away at the 
 front leadin' the bunch and everybody yellin' for you, 
 you're happy, but when some other fellow's horse 
 makes the runnin' and the crowd gets a-yellin' for 
 him, then you're sick. Pretty soon you git so you 
 don't care." 
 
 " ' Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,' " quoted Shock. 
 " Solomon says you're right." 
 
 " Solomon, eh ? Well, by all accounts he hit quite 
 a gait, too. Had them all lookin' dizzy, I reckon. 
 Come on in. I'll have dinner in a shake." 
 
 Fried pork and flapjacks, done brown in the gravy, 
 with black molasses poured over all, and black tea 
 strong enough to float a man-of-war, all this with a 
 condiment of twenty miles of foot-hill breezes, makes 
 a dinner such as no king ever enjoyed. Shock's de- 
 light in his eating was so obvious that Bill's heart 
 warmed towards him. No finer compliment can be 
 paid a cook than to eat freely and with relish of his 
 cooking. Before the meal was over the men had so 
 far broken through the barriers of reserve as to ven- 
 ture mutual confidences about the past. After Shock 
 had told the uneventful story of his life, in which his 
 mother, of course, was the central figure, Bill sat a 
 few moments in silence, and then began : " Well, I 
 never knew my mother. My father was a devil, so I 
 
ON THE TRAIL 119 
 
 guess I came naturally by all the devilment in me, and 
 that's a few. But " and here Bill paused for some 
 little time -" but I had a sweetheart once, over forty 
 years ago now, down in Kansas, and she was all right, 
 you bet. Why, sir, she was oh! well, 'taint no use 
 talkin', but I went to church for the year I knowed 
 her more'n all the rest of my life put together, and 
 was shapin' out for a different line of conduct 
 
 until " Shock waited in silence. " After she 
 
 died I didn't seem to care. I went out to California, 
 knocked about, and then to the devil generally." 
 Shock's eyes began to shine. 
 
 " I know," he said, " you had no one else to look 
 after to think of." 
 
 " None that I cared a blank for. Beg pardon. So 
 I drifted round, dug for gold a little, ranched a little, 
 just like now, gambled a little, sold whisky a 
 little, nothing very much. Didn't seem to care much, 
 and don't yet." 
 
 Shock sat waiting for him to continue, but hardly 
 knew what to say. His heart was overflowing with 
 pity for this lonely old man whose life lay in the past, 
 grey and colourless, except for that single bright 
 spot where love had made its mark. Suddenly he 
 stretched out his hand toward the old man, and said: 
 " What you want is a friend, a real good friend." 
 
 The old man took his hand in a quick, fierce grip, 
 his hard, withered face lit up with a soft, warm light. 
 
 " Stranger," he said, trying hard to keep his voice 
 steady, " I'd give all I have for one." 
 
 " Let me tell you about mine," said Shock quickly. 
 
120 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Half an hour later, as Bill stood looking after 
 Shock and rubbing his fingers, he said in soliloquy; 
 <c Well, I guess I'm gittin' old. What in thunder has 
 got into me, anyway? How'd he git me on to that line? 
 Say, what a bunco steerer he'd make ! And with that 
 face and them eyes of his! No, 'taint that. It's 
 his blank honest talk. Hang if I know what it is, but 
 he's got it ! He's white, I swear ! But blank him ! he 
 makes a fellow feel like a thief." 
 
 Bill went back to his lonely ranch with his lonely, 
 miserable life, unconsciously trying to analyse his 
 new emotions, some of which he would be glad to 
 escape, and some he would be loath to lose. He stood 
 at his door a moment, looking in upon the cheerless 
 jumble of boxes and furniture, and then turning, he 
 gazed across the sunny slopes to where he could see 
 his bunch of cattle feeding, and with a sigh that came 
 from the deepest spot in his heart, he said : " Yes, I 
 guess he's right. It's a friend I need. That's what.' 9 
 
vn 
 
 THE OUTPOST 
 
 UPON a slight swell of prairie stood the Out- 
 posfr manse of Big River, the sole and only 
 building in the country representative of 
 the great Church which lay behind it, 
 and which, under able statesmanship, was seek- 
 ing to hold the new West for things high and 
 good. The Big River people were proud of their 
 manse. The minister was proud of it, and with rea- 
 son. It stood for courage, faith, and self-denial. To 
 the Convener and Superintendent, in their hours of 
 discouragement, this little building brought cheer and 
 hope. For, while it stood there it kept touch between 
 that new country and what was best and most char- 
 teristic in Canadian civilisation, and it was for this 
 that they wrought and prayed. But, though to peo- 
 ple and minister, Convener and Superintendent, the 
 little manse meant so much, the bareness, the unloveli- 
 ness, and, more than all, the utter loneliness of it smote 
 Shock with a sense of depression. At first he could 
 not explain to himself this feeling. It was only 
 after he had consciously recognised the picture which 
 had risen in contrast before his mind as the home of 
 the Fairbanks, that he understood. 
 
 121 
 
122 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " I could never bring her to such a house as this,* 9 
 was his thought. " A woman would die here." 
 
 And, indeed, there was much to depress in the first 
 look at the little board building that made a home for 
 the Mclntyres, set down on the treeless prairie with 
 only a little wooden paling to defend it from the 
 waste that gaped at it from every side. The con- 
 trast between this bare speck of human habitation and 
 the cosy homes of his native Province, set each within 
 its sheltering nest of orchard and garden, could hardly 
 have been more complete. But as his eyes ran down 
 the slope of the prairie and up over the hills to the 
 jagged line of peaks at the horizon, he was conscious 
 of a swift change of feeling. The mighty hills spoke 
 to his heart. 
 
 " Yes, even here one might live contented," he said 
 aloud, and he found himself picturing how the light 
 from those great peaks would illumine the face that 
 had grown so dear within the last few months. 
 
 " And my mother would like it too," he said, speak- 
 ing once more aloud. So with better heart he turned 
 from the trail to the little manse door. The moment 
 he passed within the door all sense of depression was 
 gone. Out of their bare little wooden house the Mc 
 Intyres had made a home, a place of comfort and of 
 rest. True, the walls were without plaster, brown 
 paper with factory cotton tacked over it taking its 
 place, but they were wind-proof, and besides were most 
 convenient for hanging things on. The furniture, 
 though chiefly interesting as an illustration of the 
 evolution of the packing box, was none the less service- 
 
THE OUTPOST 128 
 
 able and comfortable. The floors were as yet un- 
 carpeted, but now that April was come the carpets 
 were hardly missed. Then, too, the few choice pic- 
 tures upon the walls, the ingenious bookcase and the 
 more ingenious plate- and cup-rack displaying honest 
 delf and some bits of choice china, the draping cur- 
 tains of muslin and cretonne, all spoke of cultivated 
 minds and refined tastes. Staring wants there were, 
 and many discrepancies and incongruities, but no vul- 
 garities nor coarseness nor tawdriness. What they had 
 was fitting. What was fitting but beyond their means 
 these brave home-makers did without, and all things 
 unfitting, however cheap, they scorned. And Shock, 
 though he knew nothing of the genesis and evolution 
 of this home and its furnishings, was sensible of its 
 atmosphere of quiet comfort and refinement. The 
 welcome of the Mclntyres was radiant with good 
 cheer and hearty hospitality. 
 
 It was partly the sea-rover in his blood, making 
 impossible the familiar paths trodden bare of any ex- 
 perience that could stir the heart or thrill the imagina- 
 tion, but more that high ambition that dwells in noble 
 youth, making it responsive to the call of duty where 
 duty is difficult and dangerous, that sent David Mc- 
 Intyre out from his quiet country home in Nova 
 Scotia to the far West. A brilliant course in Pictou 
 Academy, that nursing mother of genius for that 
 Province by the sea, a still more brilliant course in 
 Dalhousie, and afterwards in Pine Hill, promised 
 young Mclntyre anything he might desire in the way 
 of scholastic distinction. The remonstrance of one 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 of his professors, when he learned of the intention of 
 his brilliant and most promising student to give his 
 life to Western mission work, was characteristic of 
 the attitude of almost the whole Canadian Church 
 of that day. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Mclntyre!" said the Professor, "there 
 is no need for such a man as you to go to the West." 
 
 Equally characteristic of the man was Mclntyre's 
 reply. 
 
 " But, Professor, someone must go ; and besides 
 that seems to me great work, and I'd like to have a 
 hand in it." 
 
 It was the necessity, the difficulty, and the promise 
 of the work that summoned young Mclntyre from all 
 the openings, vacancies, positions, and appointments 
 his friends were so eagerly waving before his eyes 
 and set him among the foot-hills in the far front as 
 the first settled minister of Big River, the pride of his 
 Convener's heart, the friend and shepherd of the scat- 
 tered farmers and ranchers of the district. Once only 
 did he come near to regretting his choice, and then 
 not for his own sake, but for the sake of the young 
 girl whom he had learned to love and whose love he 
 had gained during his student days. Would she 
 leave home and friends and the social circle of which 
 she was the brightest ornament for all that he could 
 offer? He had often written to her, picturing in 
 the radiant colours of his own Western sky the 
 glory of prairie, foot-hill, and mountain, the great- 
 ness and promise of the new land, and the worth of 
 the work he was trying to do. But his two years 
 
THE OUTPOST 125 
 
 of missionary experience had made him feel the hard- 
 ship, the isolation, the meagreness, of the life which 
 she would have to share with him. The sunset colours 
 were still there, but they were laid upon ragged rock, 
 lonely hill, and wind-swept, empty prairie. It took 
 him days of hard riding and harder thinking to give 
 final form to the last paragraph of his letter: 
 
 "I have tried faithfully to picture my life and 
 work. Can you brave all this? Should I ask you 
 to do it? My work, I feel, lies here, and it's worth 
 a man's life. But whether you will share it, it is for 
 you to decide. If you feel you cannot, believe me, I 
 shall not blame you, but shall love and honour you as 
 before. But though it break my heart I cannot go 
 back from what I see to be my work. I belong to 
 you, but first I belong to Him who is both your Master 
 and mine." 
 
 In due time her answer came. He carried her letter 
 out to a favourite haunt of his in a sunny coolie where 
 an old creek-bed was marked by straggling willows, 
 and there, throwing himself down upon the sloping 
 grass, he read her message. 
 
 " I know, dear, how much that last sentence of yours 
 cost you, and my answer is that were your duty less to 
 you, you would be less to me. How could I honour 
 and love a man who, for the sake of a girl or for any 
 sake, would turn back from his work? Besides, you 
 have taught me too well to love your glorious West, 
 
126 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 and you cannot daunt me now by any such sombre 
 picture as you drew for me in your last letter. No 
 sir. The West for me ! And you should be ashamed 
 and this I shall make you properly repent 
 ashamed to force me to the unmaidenly course of in- 
 sisting upon going out to you, ' rounding you up into 
 a corral ' that is the correct phrase, is it not ? and 
 noosing, no, roping you there." 
 
 When he looked up from the letter the landscape 
 was blurred for a time. But soon he wondered at the 
 new splendour of the day, the sweetness of the air, the 
 mellow music of the meadow-lark. A new glory was 
 upon sky and earth and a new rapture in his heart. 
 
 "Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Dear little soull 
 She doesn't know, and yet, even if she did, I believe 
 it would make no difference." 
 
 Experience proved that he had rightly estimated 
 her. For a year and a half she had stood by her 
 husband's side, making sunshine for him ^hat no 
 clouds could dim nor blizzards blow out. It was this 
 that threw into her husband's tone as he said, "My 
 wife, Mr. Macgregor," the tenderness and pride. It 
 made Shock's heart quiver, for there came to him the 
 picture of a tall girl with wonderful dark grey eyes 
 that looked straight into his while she said, " You 
 know I will not forget." It was this that made him 
 hold the little woman's hand till she wondered at him, 
 but with a woman's divining she read his story in the 
 deep blue eyes, alight now with the memory of love. 
 
 " That light is not for me," she said to herself, and 
 
THE OUTPOST 13? 
 
 welcomed him with a welcome of one who had been so 
 recently and, indeed, was still a lover. 
 
 The interval between supper and bed-time was 
 spent in eager talk over Shock's field. A rough map, 
 showing trails, streams, sloughs, coolies, and some of 
 the larger ranches lay before them on the table. 
 
 "This is The Fort," said Mclntyre, putting his 
 finger upon a dot on the left side of the map. 
 " Twenty-five miles west and south is Loon Lake, the 
 centre of your field, where it is best that you should 
 live, if you can ; and then further away up toward the 
 Pass they tell me there is a queer kind of ungodly 
 settlement ranchers, freighters, whisky-runners, cat- 
 tle thieves, miners, almost anything you can name, 
 You'll have to do some exploration work there." 
 
 "Prospecting, eh?" said Shock. 
 
 "Exactly. Prospecting is the word," said Mc- 
 lntyre. " The Fort end of your field won't be bad in 
 one way. You'll find the people quite civilised. In- 
 deed, The Fort is quite the social centre for the whole 
 district. Afternoon teas, hunts, tennis, card-parties, 
 and dancing parties make life one gay whirl for them. 
 Mind you, I'm not saying a word against them. In 
 this country anything clean in the way of sport 
 ought to be encouraged, but unfortunately there is 
 a broad, bad streak running through that crowd, and 
 what with poker, gambling, bad whisky, and that sort 
 of thing, the place is at times a perfect hell." 
 
 "Whisky? What about the Police? I have heard 
 them well spoken of," said Shock. 
 
 "And rightly so. They are a line bodj of men,, 
 
128 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 with exceptions. But this infernal permit system 
 makes it almost impossible to enforce the law, and 
 where the Inspector is a soak, you can easily under- 
 stand that the whole business of law enforcement 
 is a farce. Almost all the Police, however, in this 
 country are straight fellows. There's Sergeant Crisp, 
 now there is not money enough in the Territories 
 to buy him. Why, he was offered six hundred dollars 
 not long ago to be busy at the other end of the town 
 when the freighters came in one night. But not he. 
 He was on duty, with the result that some half dozen 
 kegs of whisky failed to reach their intended des- 
 tination. But there's a bad streak in the crowd, and 
 the mischief of it is that the Inspector and his wife 
 set the pace for all the young fellows of the ranches 
 about. And when whisky gets a-flowing there are 
 things done that it is a shame to speak of. But they 
 won't bother you much. They belong mostly to 
 Father Mike." 
 
 "Father Mike, a Roman Catholic?" 
 
 " No, Anglican. A very decent fellow. Have not 
 seen much of him. His people doubtless regard me 
 as a blooming dissenter, dontcherknow. But he 
 is no such snob. He goes in for all their fun- 
 hunts, teas, dances, card-parties, and all the rest 
 of it." 
 
 " What, gambling? " asked Shock, aghast. 
 
 " No, no. I understand he rakes them fore and 
 aft for their gambling and that sort of thing. But 
 they don't mind it much. They swear by him, for 
 he is really a fine fellow. In sickness or in trouble 
 
THE OUTPOST 129 
 
 Father Mike is on the spot. But as to influencing 
 their lives, I fear Father Mike is no great force." 
 
 "Why do you have a mission there at all?" en- 
 quired Shock. 
 
 " Simply because the Superintendent considers The 
 Fort a strong strategic point, and there are a lot of 
 young fellows and a few families there who are not 
 of Father Mike's flock and who could never be per- 
 suaded to attend his church. It doesn't take much, 
 you know, to keep a man from going to church in 
 this country, so the Superintendent's policy is to re- 
 move all possible excuses and barriers and to make 
 it easy for men to give themselves a chance. Our 
 principal man at The Fort is Macfarren, a kind of 
 lawyer, land-agent, registrar, or something of that 
 sort. Has cattle too, on a ranch. A very clever fel- 
 low, but the old story whisky. Too bad. He's a 
 brother of Rev. Dr. Macfarren." 
 
 " What ? Dr. Macfarren of Toronto ? " 
 
 "Yes. And he might be almost anything in this 
 country. I'll give you a letter to him. He will show 
 you about and give you all information." 
 
 "And is he in the Church?" Shock's face was a 
 study. Mclntyre laughed long and loud. 
 
 "Why, my dear fellow, we're glad to get hold of 
 any kind of half -decent chap that is willing to help 
 in any way. We use him as usher, manager, choir- 
 master, sexton. In short, we put him any place where 
 he will stick." 
 
 Shock drew a long breath. The situation was be- 
 coming complicated to him. 
 
ISO THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " About Loon Lake," continued Mclntyre, " I can't 
 tell you much. By all odds the most interesting figure 
 there is the old Prospector, as he is called. You have 
 heard about him? " 
 
 Shock bowed. 
 
 " No one knows him, though he has been there for 
 many years. His daughter, I understand, has just 
 come out from England to him. Then, there's Andy 
 Hepburn, who runs a store, a shrewd, canny little Scot. 
 I have no doubt he will help you. But you'll know 
 more about the place in a week than I could tell you 
 if I talked all night, and t'nat I must not do, for you 
 must be tired." 
 
 When he finished Shock sat silent with his eyes 
 upon the map. He was once more conscious of a 
 kind of terror of these unknown places and people 
 How could he get at them? What place was there 
 for him and his mission in that wild, reckless life of 
 theirs? What had he to bring them. Only a Tale? 
 In the face of that vigorous, strenuous life it seemed 
 at that moment to Shock almost ridiculous in its in- 
 adequacy. Against him and his Story were arraigned 
 the great human passions greed of gold, lust of 
 pleasure in its most sensuous forms, and that wild 
 spirit of independence of all restraint by law of God 
 or man. He was still looking at the map when Mr. 
 Mclntyre said: 
 
 "We will take the books, as they say in my 
 country." 
 
 " Ay, and in mine," said Shock, coming out ot' hit 
 dream with a start. 
 
THE OUTPOST 131 
 
 Mrs. Mclntyre laid the Bible on the table. Her 
 husband opened the Book and read that great Psalm 
 of the wilderness, " Lord, thou hast been our dwelling 
 place," and so on to the last cry of frail and fading 
 humanity after the enduring arid imperishable, " Let 
 the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us ; and es- 
 tablish thou the work of our hands upon us : yea, the 
 work of our hands establish thou it." 
 
 As he listened to the vivid words that carried with 
 them the very scent and silence of the hungry wilder- 
 ness, there fell upon Shock's ears the long howl and 
 staccato bark of the prairie wolf. That lonely voice 
 of the wild West round them struck Shock's heart 
 with a chill of fear, but following hard upon the 
 fear came the memory of the abiding dwelling place 
 for all desert pilgrims, and in place of his terror a 
 great quietness fell upon his spirit. The gaunt 
 spectre of the hungry wilderness vanished before the 
 kindly presence of a great Companionship that made 
 even the unknown West seem safe and familiar as 
 one's own home. The quick change of feeling filled 
 Shock's heart to overflowing, so that when Mr. Mc- 
 lntyre, closing the Book, said, " You will lead us in 
 prayer, Mr. Macgregor," Shock could only shake his 
 head in voiceless refusal. 
 
 "You go on, David," said his wife, who had been 
 watching Shock's face. 
 
 As Shock lay that night upon his bed of buffalo 
 skins in the corner, listening to the weird sounds of 
 the night without, he knew that for the present at 
 least that haunting terror of the unknown and that 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 disturbing sense of his own insufficiency would not 
 trouble him. That dwelling place, quiet and secure, 
 of the Mclntyre's home in the midst of the wide waste 
 about was to him for many a day a symbol of that 
 other safe dwelling place for all pilgrims through 
 earth's wilderness. 
 
 " Poor chap," said Mclntyre to his wife when they 
 had retired for the night, " I'm afraid he'll find it 
 hard work, especially at The Fort. He is rather in 
 the rough, you know." 
 
 " He has beautiful honest eyes," said his wife, " and 
 I like him." 
 
 "Do you?" 
 
 " Yes, I do," she replied emphatically. 
 
 " Then," said her husband, " in spite of all appear- 
 ances he's all right." 
 
VIII 
 THE OLD PROSPECTOR 
 
 ELAKE lay in the afternoon sunlight, 
 himmering in its glory of prismatic colours, 
 n one side reflecting the rocks and the 
 pines that lined the shore and the great 
 peaks that stood further back, and the other lapping 
 the grasses and reeds that edged its waters and joined 
 it to the prairie. A gentle breeze now and then 
 breathed across the lake, breaking into myriad frag- 
 ments the glassy surface that lay like sheets of pol- 
 ished multi-coloured metal of gold and bronze and 
 silver, purple and green and blue. 
 
 A young girl of about sixteen years, riding a 
 cayuse along the lake shore, suddenly reined in her 
 pony and sat gazing upon the scene. 
 
 "After all," she said aloud, "it is a lovely spot, 
 and if only father could have stayed, I wouldn't 
 mind." 
 
 Her tone was one of discontent. Her face was not 
 beautiful, and its plainness was increased by a kind 
 of sullen gloom that had become its habit. After 
 gazing across the lake for some minutes she turned 
 her horse and cantered toward a little cluster of build- 
 ings of all sizes and shapes that huddled about the 
 
134 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 end of the lake and constituted Loon Lake village. 
 As she drew near the largest of the houses, which was 
 dignified by the name of Loon Lake Stopping Place, 
 she came upon a group of children gathered about a 
 little cripple of about seven or eight years of age, but 
 so puny and poorly developed that he appeared much 
 younger. The little lad was sobbing bitterly, shriek- 
 ing oaths and striking savagely with his crutch at the 
 children that hemmed him in. The girl sprang off 
 her pony. 
 
 "Oh, shame on you!" she exclaimed, rushing at 
 them. " You bad children, to tease poor Patsy so. 
 Be off with you. Come, Patsy, never mind them. I 
 am going to tell you a story." 
 
 " He was throwin' stones at us, so he was," said his 
 brother, a sturdy little red-headed lad of six. "And 
 he hit Batcheese right on the leg, too." 
 
 " He pu pu pulled down my mountain right to 
 the ground," sobbed Patsy, lifting a pale, tear-stained 
 face distorted with passion. 
 
 "Never mind, Patsy," she said soothingly, "I'll 
 help -you to build it up again." 
 
 "And they all laughed at me," continued Patsy, 
 still sobbing stormily. " And I'll knock their blank, 
 blank heads off, so I will ! " And Patsy lifted his 
 crutch and shook it at them in impotent wrath. 
 
 "Hush, hush, Patsy! you must not say those 
 awful words," said the girl, laying her hand ove* 
 his mouth and lifting him onto her knee. 
 
 "Yes, I will. And I just wish God would sen<3 
 them to hell-fire!" 
 
THE OLD PROSPECTOR 135 
 
 " Oh, Patsy, hush ! " said the girl. " That's awful. 
 Never, never say such a thing again." 
 
 " I will ! " cried Patsy, " and I'll ask God to-night, 
 and mother said He would if they didn't leave me 
 alone." 
 
 " But, Patsy, you must not say nor think those 
 awful things. Come now and I'll tell you a story." 
 
 " I don't want a story," he sobbed. " Sing." 
 
 "Oh, I'll tell you a story, Patsy. I'll come into 
 the house to-night and sing for you." 
 
 " No, sing," said the little lad imperiously, and so 
 the girl began to sing the thrilling love story of The 
 Frog and The Mouse, till not only was Patsy's pale 
 face wreathed in smiles, but the other children were 
 drawn in an enchanted circle about the singer. So 
 entranced were the children and so interested the 
 singer that they failed to notice the door of the Stop- 
 ping Place open. A slovenly woman showed a hard 
 face and dishevelled hair for a moment at the door, 
 and then stole quietly away. In a few moments she 
 returned, bringing her husband, a huge man with a 
 shaggy, black head and repulsive face. 
 
 " Jist be afther lookin' at that now, will ye, Gar- 
 roll!" she said. 
 
 As the man looked his face changed as the sun 
 breaks through a storm-cloud. 
 
 " Did ye iver see the loikes av that ? " she said in 
 a low voice. " She'd draw the badgers out av their 
 holes with thim songs av hers. And thim little divils 
 have been all the mornin' a-fightin' and a-scrappin* 
 loike Kilkenny cats." 
 
136 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "An' look at Patsy," said her husband, with wonder 
 and pity in his eyes. 
 
 " Yis, ye may say that, for it's the cantankerous 
 little curmudgeon he is, poor little manny." 
 
 " Cantankerous ! " echoed her husband. " It's that 
 blank pain av his." 
 
 "Whist now, Tim. There's Thim that'll be 
 hearin' ye, an' it '11 be the worse f 'r him an' f 'r you, 
 beloike." 
 
 " Divil a fear have Oi av Thim," said her sceptical 
 husband scornfully. 
 
 " Aw, now, do be quiet, now," said his wife, cross- 
 ing herself. " Sure, prayin' is jist as aisy as cursin', 
 and no harrum done, at all." She shut the door. 
 
 "Aw, it's the beautiful singer she is," as the girl 
 struck up a new song. " Listen to that now." 
 
 Full, clear, soft, like the warbling of the thrush at 
 evening, came the voice through the closed door. 
 The man and his wife stood listening with a rapt look 
 on their faces. 
 
 " Phat in Hivin's name is she singin', at all ? " said 
 Mrs. Carroll. 
 
 " Whisht ! " said her husband, holding up his hand. 
 " It's like a wild burrd," he added, after listening a 
 few moments. 
 
 "The pore thing. An' it's loike a wild burrd she 
 is," said Mrs. Carroll pityingly. "Left alone so 
 soon afther comin' to this sthrange counthry. It's 
 a useless man altogether, is that ould Prospector." 
 
 Carroll's face darkened. 
 
 66 Useless ! " he exclaimed wrathfully, " he's a blank 
 
THE OLD PROSPECTOR 137 
 
 ould fool, crazy as a jack rabbit! An' Oi'm another 
 blank fool to put any money into 'im." 
 
 "Did ye put much in, Tim?" ventured Mrs. Car- 
 roll. 
 
 " Too much to be thrown away, anyhow." 
 
 " Thin, why does ye do it, Tim? " 
 
 " Blanked if Oi know. It's the smooth, slippin* 
 tongue av 'im. He'd talk the tale aff a monkey, so 
 he would." 
 
 At this moment a loud cry, followed by a stream of 
 oaths in a shrill childish voice, pierced through the 
 singing. 
 
 "Phat's that in all the worrld?" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Carroll. " Hivin preserve us, it's little Patsy. Tim, 
 ye'll 'av to be spakin' to that child for the swearin'. 
 Listen to the oaths av 5 im. The Lord forgive 'im ! " 
 
 Tim strode to the 'door, followed by his wife. 
 
 " Phat the blank, blank is this yellin' about? Phat 
 d'ye mane swearin' loike that, Patsy? Oi'll knock 
 yer blank little head aff if Oi catch ye swearin' agin." 
 
 " I don't care," stormed little Patsy, quite unafraid 
 of his father when the other children fled. " It's that 
 blank, blank Batcheese an' Tim there. They keep 
 teasin' me an' Mayan all the time." 
 
 " Let me catch yez, ye little divils ! " shouted Car- 
 roll after the children, who had got off to a safe dis- 
 tance. " Go on, Marion, an' sing phat ye loike. It's 
 loike a burrd ye are, an' Oi loikes t' hear ye. An' 
 Patsy, too, eh?" 
 
 He took the little cripple up in his arms very 
 gently and held him for some minutes. 
 
138 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "You're a big man, dad, aint ye?" said Patsy, 
 putting his puny arm round his father's hairy neck. 
 " An' ye can lick the hull town, can't ye? " 
 
 "Who wuz tellin' ye that, Patsy?" asked his 
 father, with a smile. 
 
 "I heard ye meself last week when the big row 
 was on." 
 
 "Ye did, be dad! Thin Oi'm thinkin' ye do be 
 hearin' too much." 
 
 "But ye can, dad, can't ye?" persisted the boy. 
 
 " Well, Oi'll stick to phat Oi said, anyway, Patsy 
 boy," replied his father. 
 
 "An* I'll be a big man like you, dad, some day, 
 an' lick the hull town, won't I? " asked Patsy eagerly. 
 
 His father shuddered and held him close to his 
 breast. 
 
 " I will, dad, won't I? " persisted the lad, the little 
 face turned anxiously toward his father. 
 
 " Whisht now, laddie. Sure an' ye'll be the clivir 
 man some day," said the big man huskily, while his 
 wife turned her face toward the door. 
 
 " But they said I'd niver lick anybody," persisted 
 Patsy. " An' that's a blank lie, isn't it, dad? " 
 
 The man's face grew black with wrath. He poured 
 out fierce oaths. 
 
 "Let me catch thim. Oi'll break their backs, the 
 blank, blank little cowards ! Niver ye heed thim. Ye'll 
 be a betther man thin any av thim, Patsy avick, an* 
 that ye will. An' they'll all be standin' bare-headed 
 afore ye some day. But Patsy, darlin', Oi want ye 
 to give up the swearin' and listen to Marion yonder, 
 
THE OLD PROSPECTOR 189 
 
 who'll be afther tellin' ye good things an* cliver 
 things." 
 
 "But, dad," persisted the little boy, "won't I 
 be " 
 
 "Hush now, Patsy," said his father hurriedly. 
 " Don't ye want to go on the pony with Marion ? 
 Come on now, an' Oi'll put ye up." 
 
 "Oh, goody, goody!" shouted little Patsy, his 
 pale, beautiful face aglow with delight. 
 
 " Poor little manny ! " groaned Carroll to his wife, 
 looking after the pair as they rode off up the trail. 
 " It's not many ye'll be after lickin', except with yer 
 tongue." 
 
 " But, begorra," said his wife, " that's the lickin' 
 that hurts, afther all. An' it's harrd tellin' what'U 
 be comin' till the lad." 
 
 Her husband turned without more words and went 
 into the house. Meantime Marion and Patsy were 
 enjoying their canter. 
 
 " Take me up to the Jumping Rock," said the boy, 
 and they took the trail that wound up the west side of 
 the lake. 
 
 " There now, Patsy," said Marion, when they had 
 arrived at a smooth shelf of rock that rose sheer out 
 of the blue water of the lake, " I'll put you by the big 
 spruce there, and you can see all over the lake and 
 everywhere." 
 
 She slipped off the pony, carefully lifted the boy 
 down and set him leaning against a big spruce pine 
 that grew seemingly up out of the bare rock and 
 leaned far out over the water. This was the swim- 
 
140 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 ming place for the boys and men of the village ; and 
 an ideal place it was, for off the rock or out of the 
 overhanging limbs the swimmers could dive without 
 fear into the clear, deep water below. 
 
 " There now, Patsy," said the girl after she had 
 picketed her pony, " shall I tell you a story ? " 
 
 " No. Sing, Mayan, I like you to sing." 
 
 But just as the girl was about to begin he cried, 
 " Who's that comin', Mayan?'' pointing down the 
 trail. 
 
 The keen eyes of the lad had descried a horseman 
 far away where the long slope rose to the horizen. 
 
 " I don't know," answered the girl. "Who is it, 
 Patsy? A cowboy?" 
 
 " No," said Patsy, after waiting for a few minutes, 
 I think it's Perault." 
 
 " No, Patsy, that can't be. You know Perault 
 went out with father last week." 
 
 "Yes, it is," insisted Patsy. "That's father's 
 pony. That's Rat-tail, I know." 
 
 The girl stood up and gazed anxiously at the ap- 
 proaching rider. 
 
 " Surely it can't be Perault," she said to herself. 
 " What can have happened? " 
 
 She unhitched her horse, rolled up her picket rope, 
 and stood waiting with disturbed face. As the rider 
 drew near she called, "Perault! Ho, Perault!" 
 
 " Hola ! " exclaimed Perault, a wizened, tough-look- 
 ing little Frenchman, pulling up his pony with a jerk, 
 "Bo jou, Mam'selle," he added, taking off his hat. 
 
 Perault's manner is reassuring, indeed quite gay* 
 
THE OLD PROSPECTOR 141 
 
 "What is it, Perault? Why are you come back? 
 Where is father?" The girl's lips were white. 
 
 " Coming," said Perault nonchalantly, pointing up 
 the trail. "We strak de bad luck, Mam'selle, so we 
 start heem again." 
 
 "Tell me, Perault," said the girl, turning her 
 piercing black eyes on his face, "tell me truly, is 
 father hurt?" 
 
 " Oui, for sure," said Perault with an exaggera- 
 tion of carelessness which did not escape the keen 
 eyes fastened on his face, " dat ole boss, you know, 
 he blam-fool. Hees 'fraid noting. Hees try for 
 sweem de Black Dog on de crossing below. De Black 
 Dog hees full over hees bank, an' boil, boil, lak one 
 kettle. De ole boss he say * Perault, we mak de pas- 
 sage, eh?' 6 No,' I say, 'we try noder crossing.' 
 * How far ? ' he say. * Two tree mile.' * Guess try 
 heem here,' he say, an' no matter how I say heem be 
 blam-fool for try, dat ole boss hees laf small, leele 
 laf an' mak de start. Well, dat pony hees going nice 
 an' slow troo de water over de bank, but wen he struk 
 dat fas water, poof ! wheez ! dat pony hees upset hes- 
 sef, by gar! Hees trow hees feet out on de water. 
 Bymbe hees come all right for a meenit. Den dat 
 fool pony hees miss de crossing. Hees go dreef down 
 de stream where de high bank hees imposseeb. Mon 
 Dieu! Das mak me scare. I do'no what I do. I 
 stan' an' yell lak one beeg fool me. Up come beeg 
 feller on buckboard on noder side. Beeg blam-fool 
 jus' lak boss. Not 'fraid noting. Hees trow rope 
 cross saddle. De ole boss hees win' heem roun' de 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 horn. Poof! das upset dat pony once more. Hees 
 trow hees feet up on water, catch ole boss on head an' 
 arm, knock heem right off to blazes. * Good bye,' I 
 say, ' I not see heem more.' Beeg feller hees loose dat 
 rope, ron down on de bank hitching rope on willow tree 
 an' roun' hees own shoulder an' jump on reever way 
 down on bend an' wait for ole boss. For me? I mak 
 dis pony cross ver' queek. Not know how, an' pass on 
 de noder side. I see beeg feller, hees hoi' de ole boss 
 on hees coat collar wit hees teef, by gar! an' sweem 
 lak ottar. Sap-r-r-e ! Not long before I pull on dat 
 rope an' get bot on shore. Beeg feller hees all right. 
 De ole boss hees lie white, white and still. I cry on 
 my eye bad. * Go get someting for dreenk,' say beeg 
 feller, 'queek.' Sac-r-re! beeg fool messef! Bah! 
 Good for noting! I fin' brandy, an' leele tarn, tree- 
 four minute, de ole boss hees sit up all right. Le 
 Bon Dieu hees do good turn dat time, for sure. Send 
 beeg feller along all right." 
 
 The girl stood listening to Perault's dramatic tale, 
 her face growing white. 
 
 " Is father not hurt at all, then ? " she asked. 
 
 " Non. Hees tough ole man, dat boss," said Pe- 
 rault. Then he added lightly, " Oh ! hees broke some 
 small bone what you call? on de collar, dere. Dat 
 noting 'tall." 
 
 " Oh, Perault ! " exclaimed the girl. " You're not 
 telling me the truth. You're keeping back something. 
 My father is hurt." 
 
 " Non, for sure," said Perault, putting his hand 
 over his heart. "Hees broke dat bone on de collar. 
 
THE OLD PROSPECTOR 143 
 
 Dat noting 'tall. He not ride ver' well, so hees come 
 on beeg feller's blackboard. Dat's fine beeg feller! 
 Mon Dieu! hees not 'fraid noting! Beeg blam-fool 
 jus' lak boss." No higher commendation was possible 
 from Perault. 
 
 " But why is father coming back then ? " asked 
 the girl anxiously. 
 
 " Mais oui ! Bah ! Dat leele fool pony got his- 
 self dron on de Black Dog, an' all hees stuff, so de 
 ole boss he mus' come back for more pony an' more 
 stuff." 
 
 " When will they be here, Perault ? " asked the girl 
 quietly. 
 
 "Ver' soon. One two hour. But," said Perault 
 with some hesitation, " de ole boss better go on bed 
 leele spell, mebbe." 
 
 Then the girl knew that Perault had not told her 
 the worst, turning impatiently frwn him, she lifted 
 little Patsy on to the saddle and, disdaining Perault's 
 offered help, sprang on herself and set off toward the 
 village about a mile away at full gallojh 
 
 " Das mighty smart girl," said Perault , scratching 
 his head as he set off after her as fast as his jaded 
 pony could follow. "Can't mak fool on her." 
 
 Half way to the village stood the old Prospector's 
 house, almost hidden in a bluff of poplar and spruce. 
 A little further on was Perault's shack. At he* 
 father's door the girl waited. 
 
 " Perault," she said quietly, " I left the key at your 
 house. Will you get it for me while I take Patsy 
 home?" 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "Bon," said Perault eagerly. "I get heem an' 
 mak fire." 
 
 " Thank you, Perault," she replied kindly. " I'll 
 be right back." 
 
 But it took some time to get Patsy persuaded to 
 allow her to depart, and by the time she had returned 
 she found Perault had the fire lit and Josie, his bright- 
 eyed, pretty, little wife, busy airing the bed-clothes 
 and flitting about seeking opportunities to show her 
 sympathy. 
 
 "Ma pauvre enfant!" she exclaimed, running to 
 Marion as she entered and putting her arms about 
 her. 
 
 "Josie," warned Perault gruffly, "shut up you. 
 You go for mak fool of yousef ." 
 
 But Josie paid no attention to her husband and 
 continued petting the girl. 
 
 "Josie," cried Marion, fixing her eyes upon the 
 Frenchwoman's kindly face, "tell me, is my father 
 badly hurt? Perault would not tell me the truth." 
 
 " Non, ma petite, dat hur's not so ver' bad, but de 
 cole water das bad ting for fader, sure." 
 
 The cloud of gloom on the girl's face deepened. 
 She turned away toward the door and saying, " I'll 
 go and get some crocuses," she mounted her pony and 
 rode off toward the Jumping Rock. 
 
 Within half an hour the girl came galloping back. 
 
 "Josie," she cried excitedly, springing off her 
 pony, " they're coming. I saw them up the trail." 
 
 She tossed her flowers on the table and hurried to 
 arrange them in basins, cups, old tin cans, and all 
 
THE OLD PROSPECTOR 145 
 
 available vessels, till the whole house seemed to be 
 running over with those first and most exquisite 
 prairie spring-flowers. And for many following days 
 the spring-flowers filled the house with their own hope 
 and cheer, when hope and cheer were both sorely 
 needed. 
 
IX 
 
 TIM CARROLL 
 
 THERE stood at the door Perault, Josie, 
 and Marion, waiting for Shock and the Old 
 Prospector to drive up. The contrast be- 
 tween the two men in the blackboard was 
 striking. The one, a young man with muscular 
 frame, a strong, fresh face innocent of worldly wis- 
 dom and marked by the frankness of an unspoiled 
 faith in men and things ; the other, an old man, tall, 
 slight, with a face worn and weary, delicately fea- 
 tured and kindly enough, but with a mask of inscrut- 
 able reserve tinged with that distrust of men and 
 things that comes of a bitter experience of the world's 
 falsities. For fifty years Walter Mowbray had 
 looked out of the piercing black eyes that gleamed 
 like coals of fire through his pallid face upon a world 
 that had continuously allured and mocked him. The 
 piercing eyes were those of an enthusiast, not to say 
 fanatic. The fire in them still burned deep and 
 bright. The indomitable spirit, refusing to accept 
 defeat, still lived and hoped with a persistence at once 
 extraordinary and pathetic. 
 
 A gleam of light shot across his pale impassive face 
 as his eyes fell upon his daughter who, in the presence 
 of a stranger, shrank back behind Josie. He beck- 
 oned her to him. 
 
 146 
 
TIM CARROLL 147 
 
 " Come, my daughter," he said in a clear, musical 
 voice. 
 
 Then she forgot her shyness and threw herself at 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, father ! " she cried in a low, smothered voice, 
 her whole frame shaking as she clung to him. 
 
 For a single instant the old man held her to him, 
 his pale face once more illumined by that momentary 
 gleam, then loosening her arms from his neck, he said 
 in calm tones, in which mingled surprise, raillery, 
 almost rebuke, "Why, my child, this is indeed an 
 extraordinary welcome home." 
 
 At the tone the girl shrank back, and with mar- 
 vellous self-control regained her ordinary quiet 
 manner. 
 
 "You are hurt, father," she said so quietly that 
 her father glanced with quick surprise at her. He 
 hardly knew as yet this daughter of his, who had come 
 to him only two months ago, and whom for fifteen 
 years he had not seen. 
 
 "A mere touch," he answered carelessly. "A 
 broken collar-bone, inconvenient, but neither painful 
 nor dangerous, and an additional touch of rheu- 
 matism, which, though extremely annoying, will prove 
 only temporary. After a few days of your nurs- 
 ing we shall be able to resume our march, eh, 
 Perault?' 
 
 " Oui ! bon ! dat so," said Perault, grinning his 
 eager acquiescence. " De ole boss he stop for noting." 
 
 " But now we shall get with all speed between the 
 blankets, my girl. Hot blankets, Josie, eh?" 
 
148 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Oui, certainment, tout suite ! " cried Josie, darting 
 into the house. 
 
 The old man began carefully to raise himself off 
 the seat of the buckboard. 
 
 " Ha ! " catching his breath. " Rather sharp, that, 
 Mr. Macgregor. Oh! I forgot. Pardon me," he 
 continued, with fine, old-time courtesy. " Permit me 
 to introduce you to my daughter. Marion, this is 
 Mr. Macgregor, but for whose timely and heroic 
 assistance I might even now be tumbling about at the 
 fitful fancy of the Black Dog. We both have cause 
 to be grateful to him." 
 
 With a surprised cry the girl who, during her 
 father's words, had been looking at him with a white 
 face and staring eyes, sprang towards Shock, who 
 was standing at the pony's head, seized his hand be- 
 tween hers, kissed it passionately, flung it away, and 
 returned hurriedly to her father's side. 
 
 " It was nothing at all," said Shock, when he had 
 recovered from his confusion. " Any one would have 
 done it, and besides " 
 
 " Not many men would have had the strength to 
 do it," interrupted the Old Prospector, " and few men 
 the nerve to try. We will not forget it, sir, I trust." 
 
 " Besides," continued Shock, addressing the girl, 
 " I owe something to your father, for I was helplessly 
 lost when he found me." 
 
 With a wave of his hand the old man brushed aside 
 Shock's statement as of no importance. 
 
 " We shall hope for opportunity to show our grati- 
 tude, Mr. Macgregor," he said, his clear voice taking 
 
TIM CARROLL 149 
 
 a deeper tone than usual. "Now," he continued 
 briskly, "let us proceed with this somewhat serious 
 business of getting into blankets. Just lift my feet 
 round, my daughter. Ah! The long ride has 
 stiffened the joints. Oh! One moment, my dear." 
 The old man's face was wet and ghastly pale, and his 
 breath came in quick gasps. " A difficult operation, 
 Mr. Macgregor," he said apologetically, " but we shall 
 accomplish it in time. Wait, my dear, I fancy I 
 shall do better without your assistance. At least, I 
 shall be relieved of uncertainty as to responsibility 
 for my pains. An important consideration, Mr. 
 Macgregor. Uncertainty adds much to the sum of 
 human suffering. Now, if I can swing my legs 
 about. Ah-h-h! Most humiliating experience, Mr. 
 Macgregor, the arriving at the limit of one's strength. 
 But one not uncommon in life, and finally inevitable," 
 continued the old philosopher, only the ghastly hue 
 of his mask-like face giving token of the agony he was 
 enduring. 
 
 Then Shock came to him. 
 
 "Let me carry you," he said. "It will give you 
 less pain, I am sure." 
 
 " Well, it can hardly give more." 
 
 "Put your arms about my neck. There. Now 
 don't try to help yourself." 
 
 " Most sound advice. I surrender," said the old 
 man, his philosophic tone in striking contrast to his 
 ghastly face. " But one most difficult to accept." 
 
 Gently, easily, as if he had been a child, Shock 
 lifted him from the buckboard, carried him into the 
 
150 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 house and laid him upon his bed. The old man was 
 faint with his pain. 
 
 " Thank you, sir that was distinctly easier. You 
 are a mighty man. Perault ! I think I " 
 
 His voice faded away into silence and his head fell 
 back. The girl sprang forward with a cry of fear, 
 but Shock was before her. 
 
 " The brandy, Perault ! Quick ! " he said. " Don't 
 fear, Miss Mowbray, he will soon be all right." 
 
 The girl glanced into Shock's face and at once 
 grew calm again. Soon, under the stimulus of the 
 brandy, the old man revived. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, drawing a long breath and looking 
 with a faint apologetic smile at the anxious faces 
 ribout, " pardon my alarming you. I am getting old. 
 The long drive and the somewhat severe pain weakened 
 me, I fear." 
 
 " Indeed, you have no need to apologise. It is 
 more than I could have stood," said Shock in genuine 
 admiration. 
 
 "Thank you," said the old man. "Now we shall 
 get into blankets. I have the greatest faith in 
 blankets, sir; the greatest faith. I have rolled my- 
 self in wet blankets in mid-winter when suffering from 
 a severe cold, and have come forth perfectly recovered. 
 You remember the Elk Valley, Perault? " 
 
 " Oui, for sure. I say dot tarn ole boss blam-f ooL 
 Hees cough ! cough ! ver' bad. Nex' mornin', by gar ! 
 he's all right." 
 
 " And will be again soon, Perault, my boy, by the 
 help of these same blankets," said the old man con- 
 
TIM CARROLL 151 
 
 fidently. " But how to negotiate the business is the 
 question now." 
 
 "Let me try, sir. I have had some little expe- 
 rience in helping men with broken bones and the like," 
 said Shock. 
 
 "You're at least entitled to confidence, Mr. Mac- 
 gregor," replied the Old Prospector. "Faith is the 
 reflection of experience. I resign myself into your 
 hands." 
 
 In half an hour, with Perault's assistance, Shock 
 had the old man between heated blankets, exhausted 
 with pain, but resting comfortably. 
 
 " Mr. Macgregor," said the old man, taking Shock 
 by the hand, " I have found that life sooner or later 
 brings opportunity to discharge every obligation. 
 Such an opportunity I shall eagerly await." 
 
 " I have done no more than any man should," 
 replied Shock simply. " And I am only glad to have 
 had the chance." 
 
 " Chance ! " echoed the Old Prospector. " I have 
 found that we make our chances, sir. But now you 
 will require lodging. I regret I cannot offer you 
 hospitality. Perault, go down to the Stopping Place, 
 present my compliments to Carroll and ask him to give 
 Mr. Macgregor the best accommodation he has. The 
 best is none too good. And, Perault, we shall need 
 another pony and a new outfit. In a few days we 
 must be on the move again. See Carroll about these 
 things and report. Meantime, Mr. Macgregor, you 
 will remain with us to tea." 
 
 " Carroll ! " exclaimed Perault in a tone of dis- 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 gust. " Dat man no good 'tall. I get you one pony 
 cheap. Dat Carroll he's one beeg tief ." 
 
 The little Frenchman's eyes glittered with hate. 
 
 " Perault," replied the Old Prospector quietly, " I 
 quite understand you have your own quarrel with 
 Carroll, but these are my affairs. Carroll will not 
 cheat me." 
 
 " Ah ! Bah ! " spat Perault in a vicious undertone 
 of disgust. " De ole boss he blam-f ool. He not see 
 noting." And Perault departed, grumbling and 
 swearing, to make his deal with Carroll. 
 
 Timothy Carroll was a man altogether remarkable, 
 even in that country of remarkable men. Of his 
 past history little was known. At one time a Hudson 
 Bay trader, then a freighter. At present he " ran " 
 the Loon Lake Stopping Place and a livery stable, 
 took contracts in freight, and conducted a general 
 trading business in horses, cattle anything, in short, 
 that could be bought and sold in that country. A 
 man of powerful physique and great shrewdness, he 
 easily dominated the community of Loon Lake. He 
 was a curious mixture of incongruous characteristics. 
 At the same time many a poor fellow had found in 
 him a friend in sickness or " in hard luck," and by 
 his wife and family he was adored. His tenderness 
 for little lame Patsy was the marvel of all who knew 
 the terrible Tim Carroll. He had a furious temper, 
 and in wrath was truly terrifying, while in matters of 
 trade he was cool, cunning, and unscrupulous. Few 
 men had ever dared to face his rage, and few had 
 ever worsted him in a " deal." No wonder Perault, 
 
TIM CARROLL 153 
 
 who had experienced both the fury of his rage and 
 the unscrupulousness of his trading methods, ap- 
 proached him with reluctance. But, though Perault 
 had suffered at the hands of the big Irishman, the 
 chief cause of his hatred was not personal. He 
 knew, what many others in the community suspected, 
 that for years Carroll had systematically robbed and 
 had contributed largely to the ruin of his " old boss." 
 Walter Mowbray was haunted by one enslaving vice. 
 He was by temperament and by habit a gambler. It 
 was this v:2e that had been his ruin. In the madness 
 of his passion he had risked and lost, one fatal night 
 in the old land, the funds of the financial institution 
 of which he was the trusted and honoured head. In 
 the agony of his shame he had fled from his home, 
 leaving in her grave his broken-hearted wife, and 
 abandoning to the care of his maiden sister his little 
 girl of a year old, and had sought, in the feverish 
 search for gold, relief from haunting memory, re- 
 demption for himself, and provision for his child. 
 In his prospecting experiments success had attended 
 him. He developed in a marvellous degree the pros- 
 pector's instinct, for instinct it appeared to be; and 
 many of the important prospects, and some of the 
 most valuable mines in Southern British Columbia, 
 had been discovered by him. 
 
 It was at this point that Carroll took a hand. Act- 
 ing in collusion with the expert agent for the British 
 American Gold and Silver Mining Company, he had 
 bought for hundreds of dollars and sold for thousands 
 the Old Prospector's claims. Not that the old man 
 
154 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 -N 
 
 had lost that financial ability or that knowledge of 
 human nature that had given him his high place in 
 former days, but he was possessed of a dream of 
 wealth so vast that ordinary fortunes shrank into 
 insignificance in comparison. He had fallen under 
 the spell of an Indian tale of a lost river of 
 fabulous wealth in gold that disturbed all his sense 
 of value. In one of his prospecting tours he had 
 come upon an old Indian hunter, torn by a griz- 
 zly and dying. For weeks he nursed the old 
 Indian in his camp with tender but unavailing 
 care. In gratitude, the dying man had told of the 
 lost river that flowed over rocks and sands sown 
 with gold. In his young days the Indian had seen 
 the river and had gathered its "yellow sand and 
 stones"; in later years, however, when he had come 
 to know something of the value of this " yellow sand 
 and stones " he had sought the river, but in vain. A 
 mountain peak in one vast slide had filled up the 
 valley, diverted the course of the river, and changed 
 the whole face of the country. For many summers 
 the Indian had sought with the unfaltering patience 
 of his race the bed of the lost river, and at length, that 
 very summer, he had discovered it. Deep down in 
 a side canyon in the bed of a trickling brook he had 
 found " yellow sand and stones " similar to those of 
 the lost river of his youth. As the dying Indian 
 poured out from his buckskin bag the glittering sand 
 and rusty bits of rock, there entered into the Old 
 Prospector the terrible gold-lust that for thirteen 
 years burned as a fever in his bones and lured him on 
 
TIM CARROLL 155 
 
 through perils and privations, over mountains and 
 along canyons, making him insensible to storms and 
 frosts and burning suns, and that even now, old man 
 as he was, worn and broken, still burned with un- 
 quenchable flame. 
 
 Under the spell of that dream of wealth he found 
 it easy to pay his " debts of honour " to Carroll with 
 mining claims, which, however valuable in themselves, 
 were to him paltry in comparison with the wealth of 
 the Lost River, to which every year brought him 
 nearer, and which one day he was sure he would 
 possess. That Carroll and his confederate robbed 
 him he knew well enough, but finding Carroll useful 
 to him, both in the way of outfitting his annual expe- 
 ditions and in providing means for the gratifying of 
 his life-long gambling passion, by which the deadly 
 monotony of the long winter days and nights was 
 relieved, he tolerated while he scorned him and his 
 villainy. 
 
 Not so Perault, whose devotion to his " ole boss " 
 was equalled only by his hate of those who robbed 
 while they derided him, and he set himself to the task 
 of thwarting their nefarious schemes. For this 
 Perault had incurred the savage wrath of Carroll, 
 and more than once had suffered bodily injury at 
 his hands. 
 
 The Stopping Place was filled with men from the 
 ranges, freighters from the trail, and the nondescript 
 driftwood that the waves of civilisation cast up upon 
 those far-away shores of human society. With all 
 of them Perault was a favourite. Carroll was out 
 
156 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 when he entered. On all sides he was greeted with 
 exclamations of surprise, pleasure, and curiosity, for 
 all knew that he had set out upon another " annual 
 fool hunt," as the Prospector's yearly expedition was 
 called. "Hello, Rainy, what's happened? 9 ' "Got 
 yer gold dust?" "Goin' to retire, Rainy?" "The 
 Old Prospector struck his river yit ? " greeted him on 
 every side. 
 
 " Oui, by gar ! He struck heem, for sure," grinned 
 Perault. 
 
 "What? The Lost River?" "What? His 
 mine?" chorused the crowd, awakened to more than 
 ordinary interest. 
 
 "Non, not Los' River, but los' man, blank near." 
 And Perault went on to describe, with dramatic fer- 
 vour and appropriate gesticulation, the scene at the 
 Black Dog, bringing out into strong relief his own 
 helplessness and stupidity, and the cool daring of the 
 stranger who had snatched his " ole boss " out of the 
 j aws of the Black Dog. 
 
 " By Jove ! " exclaimed a rancher when the narra- 
 tive was finished, "not bad, that. Who was the 
 chap, Rainy ? " 
 
 " Do' no me. Tink he's one what you call pries*. 
 Your Protestan' pries'." 
 
 " What, a preacher ? " cried the rancher. " Not he 
 They're not made that way." 
 
 " I don't know about that, Sinclair," said another 
 rancher. " There's Father Mike, you know." 
 
 " That's so," said Sinclair. " But there are hardly 
 two of that kind on the same range." 
 
TIM CARROLL 157 
 
 "Fadder Mike!" sniffed Perault contemptuously. 
 "Dat beeg feller hees roll Fadder Mike up in one 
 beeg bunch an' stick heem in hees pocket. Dat feller 
 he's not 'fraid noting. Beeg blam-fool, jus' lak ole 
 boss, for sure." 
 
 " I guess he must be good stuff, Rainy, if you put 
 him in that class." 
 
 "Dat's hees place," averred Rainy with emphasis. 
 "Jus' lak ole boss." 
 
 At this point Carroll came in. 
 
 "Hello, Perault!" he said. "What the blank, 
 blank are ye doin' here? " 
 
 Perault spat deliberately into the ash-pan, tipped 
 back his chair without looking at the big Irishman, 
 and answered coolly: 
 
 "Me? After one pack pony an' some outfit for 
 de ole boss." 
 
 " Pony an' outfit, is it? " shouted Carroll. " What 
 the blank, blank d'ye mane? What 'av ye done wid 
 that pack pony av moine, an' where's yer blank ould 
 fool av *a boss ? " 
 
 Carroll was working himself up into a fine rage. 
 
 "De boss, he's in bed," replied Perault coolly. 
 " De pony, he's in de Black Dog Reever, guess." 
 
 "The Black Dog? What the blank, blank d'ye 
 mane, anyway? Why don't ye answer? Blank ye 
 f'r a cursed crapeau of a Frenchman? Is that pony 
 of moine drowned? " 
 
 "Mebbe," said Perault, shrugging his shoulders, 
 " unless he leev under de water lak one mush-rat." 
 
 "Blank yer impudence," roared Carroll, "to be 
 
1158 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 sittin' there laughin' in me face at the loss av me 
 property. It's no better than a pack of thieves 
 ye are." 
 
 "Tieves!" answered Perault, in quick anger. 
 " Dere's one beeg, black, hairy tief not far 'way dat's 
 got hees money for dat pony two three tarn overe." 
 
 Choking with rage, Carroll took one step toward 
 him, kicked his chair clean from under him, and 
 deposited the Frenchman on the floor amid a shout of 
 laughter from the crowd. In blazing wrath Perault 
 was on his feet with a bound, and, swinging his chair 
 around his head, hurled it full in the face of his 
 enemy. Carroll caught it on his arm and came rush- 
 ing at the Frenchman. 
 
 " You one beeg black tief," shrieked Perault, draw- 
 ing a knife and striking savagely at the big Irishman. 
 
 As he delivered his blow Carroll caught him by the 
 wrist, wrenched the knife from his grasp, seizing him 
 by the throat proceeded to choke him. The crowd 
 stood looking on, hesitating to interfere. A fight was 
 understood in that country to be the business of no 
 man save those immediately concerned. Besides this, 
 Carroll was dreaded for his great strength and his 
 furious temper, and no man cared to imperil his life 
 by attacking him. 
 
 " Blank yer cursed soul ! " cried Carroll through his 
 clenched teeth. "It's this Oi've been waintin' f'r 
 many a day, an' now by the powers Oi'll be takin' the 
 life of yez, so Oi will." 
 
 His threat would undoubtedly have been carried 
 out, for Perault was bent far back, his face was black, 
 
TIM CARROLL 
 
 and his tongue protruded from his wide open mouth. 
 But at this moment the door opened and Shock quietly 
 stepped in. For a single instant he stood gazing in 
 amazement upon the strange scene, then stepping 
 quickly behind Carroll, whose back was toward the 
 door, he caught his wrist. 
 
 " You are killing the man," he said quietly. 
 
 " Oi am that same ! " hissed Carroll, his eyes blood- 
 shot with the light of murder in them. " An' by all 
 the powers of hell Oi'll be havin' yer heart's blood if 
 ye don't kape aff." 
 
 " Indeed, then, he's too small a man for you, and 
 as to myself, we can see about that later," said Shock 
 quietly. 
 
 He closed his fingers on the wrist he held. The 
 hand gripping Perault's throat opened quickly, allow- 
 ing the Frenchman to fall to the floor. Swinging 
 round with a hoarse cry, the big Irishman aimed a 
 terrific blow at Shock's head. But Shock, catching 
 the blow on his arm, drew Carroll sharply toward him, 
 at the same time giving a quick downward twist to 
 the wrist he held, a trick of the Japanese wrestlers 
 the 'Varsity men had been wont to practise. There 
 was a slight crack, a howl of pain, and Carroll sank 
 writhing on the floor, with Shock's grip still on his 
 wrist. 
 
 " Let me up," he roared. 
 
 "Will you let the little man alone?" asked Shock 
 quietly. 
 
 " Let me up, blank ye ! It's yer heart's blood will 
 pay for this." 
 
160 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Will you leave the little man alone? " asked Shock 
 in a relentlessly even tone. 
 
 "Yis, yis," groaned Carroll. "Me wrist's bruk, 
 so it is. But Oi'll be afther doin' f'r yez, ye blank, 
 blank " 
 
 Carroll's profanity flowed in a copious stream. 
 
 "As to that," said Shock, quietly stepping back 
 from him, "we can discuss that later; but it is a 
 shame for a man like you to be choking a little chap 
 like that." 
 
 The old football scrimmage smile was on Shock's 
 face as he stood waiting for Carroll to rise. The 
 whole incident had occurred so unexpectedly and so 
 suddenly that the crowd about stood amazed, quite 
 unable to realise just what had happened. 
 
 After a time the big Irishman slowly rose, holding 
 his wounded wrist and grinding out curses. Then 
 suddenly seizing with his uninjured hand the chair 
 which Perault had thrown at him, he raised it aloft 
 and with a wild yell brought it down upon Shock's 
 head. With his yell mingled a shrill cry. It was 
 little Patsy. He had stolen in behind his father, and 
 with eyes growing wider and wider had stood listen- 
 ing to his father's groans and curses. 
 
 Gradually the meaning of the scene dawned upon 
 little Patsy's mind. His father had been hurt, and 
 there stood the man who had hurt him. In a fury 
 the little lad hurtled across the room, and just as 
 his father delivered his terrific blow he threw him- 
 self, with crutch uplifted, at the astonished Shock 
 and right in the way of the descending chair. 
 
TIM CARROLL 161 
 
 Instead of starting back to avoid the blow, as he 
 might easily have done, Shock without a moment's 
 hesitation sprang towards the child, taking the full 
 weight of the blow upon his arm and head, but 
 without entirely saving Patsy. Together they fell, 
 Shock bleeding profusely from a deep cut on the 
 head. 
 
 Two men sprang to his aid, while Carroll stood 
 stupidly gazing down upon the white face of the little 
 boy. 
 
 "Never mind me," said Shock, recovering con- 
 sciousness quickly, "look to the child. Is he hurt?" 
 
 "He's dead, I guess," said Sinclair. 
 
 " It's a lie ! " cried Carroll, in a hoarse voice. " It's 
 a blank lie, I tell you!" 
 
 His face was white and his terrible eyes, so lately 
 suffused with the light of murder, were filled with 
 startled terror. He dropped beside his child and 
 lifted him in his arms, crying softly, "Patsy, boy! 
 Aw, now Patsy, darlin'. Spake to me, Patsy." 
 
 But the long lashes lay quietly upon the white 
 cheeks, and the little form remained limp and still. 
 Carroll lifted an amazed and terror-stricken face to 
 the company. 
 
 " What have I done ? Sure he's not dead ! " he said 
 in an awed whisper. 
 
 " No, no," said Shock, wiping the blood out of his 
 eyes and leaning over the little white face. " Water, 
 Perault, and brandy," he cried. " Quick ! " 
 
 The men who had stood aghast at the tragic ending 
 of what had been simply a row of more than ordinary 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 interest now hastened to give help. Water and 
 brandy were immediately at hand. Ignoring his own 
 wound, Shock bathed the face and hands of the 
 unconscious child, but there was no sign of life. 
 
 "Guess he's gone out, right enough," said a 
 cowboy. 
 
 "Liar! Liar! Blank your cursed soul for a 
 liar ! " cried Carroll, in a tone of agony. 
 
 " Man, man ! " said Shock, in c, stern, solemn voice, 
 "would you provoke the Almighty to anger with 
 your oaths ? You ought rather to beseech His mercy 
 for your own soul. Why should He give your child 
 to the care of such a man as you? Give me the 
 lad." 
 
 Without a word of remonstrance Carroll allowed 
 Shock to lift the lifeless child and carry him into the 
 open air, where, laying him on the ground, he began 
 to vigorously chafe his hands and feet. After some 
 minutes of bathing and rubbing the eyelids began to 
 flutter and the breath to come in gentle sighs. 
 
 " Brandy now, Perault," said Shock. " There now, 
 laddie. Thank God, he is coming to ! " 
 
 " Dad, dad, where's dad? " said little Patsy faintly, 
 opening his eyes. " I want dad." 
 
 "Here! Here! Patsy mannie," cried his father 
 quickly, coming from behind the crowd where he had 
 been standing dazed and stupid. " Stand back 
 there! Let me have my boy," he added savagely. 
 
 He swept both Perault and Shock angrily aside, 
 gathered the little lad tenderly in his arms and strode 
 off into the house, the white face of the child resting 
 
TIM CARROLL 163 
 
 on his father's shoulder and his golden curls mingling 
 with the black, coarse masses of his father's hair and 
 beard. 
 
 "Well, I'll be blanked!' 5 said one of the men. 
 " Wouldn't that pall you ! " 
 
 " Blank cantankerous cuss ! " said the cowboy. 
 " Never a ' thank you ' for gittin' half killed in place 
 of his kid." 
 
 Perault walked up to Shock, and offering his hand, 
 said in a voice husky and broken, " Dat's two for you 
 dis evenin' me an' dat leele feller. For me I can't 
 spik my heart," smiting himself on the breast, "but 
 my heart dat's your own now, by gar!" He 
 wrung Shock's hand in both of his and turned quickly 
 away But before he had taken many steps he re- 
 turned, saying, " Come on wit me ! I f eex up your 
 head." And without further words Shock and Perault 
 passed into the Stopping Place. 
 
 The men looked at each other in silence for a time, 
 then the cowboy , said with unusual emphasis, " Boys, 
 he's white ! He's blanked white ! " 
 
X 
 
 THE TURF MEET 
 
 THE great brown shadows of the rolling 
 hills had quite filled the hollows between and 
 were slowly climbing up the western slope of 
 every undulation when Shock reached the 
 lip of the broad river bed in which lay the little fort 
 town. 
 
 The white clump of buildings standing by them- 
 selves he knew to be the barracks of the North- West 
 Mounted Police. The flag floating above showed 
 that, as well as the air of military neatness about 
 them. 
 
 The town straggled along two intersecting streets, 
 and then frayed out over the flats in isolated and de- 
 jected-looking shacks. The more imposing buildings 
 on the main street Shock guessed were the hotels and 
 stores. One of the latter he recognised from its flag 
 as that of the ancient and honourable Hudson's Bay 
 Company. On a back street here and there stood a 
 house surrounded by a garden and scrubby trees, a 
 pathetic attempt to reproduce in this treeless country 
 what in other lands had been fondly called home. 
 
 Away on every side stretched the vast sweep of 
 rolling prairie to where the amber of the sky-line 
 mingled with the grey blue of the earth. 
 
 164 
 
THE TURF MEET 165 
 
 How insignificant, how miserable and wretched in 
 the midst of this expanse of sky and earth, seemed 
 the huddling bunch of dejected buildings, and yet 
 the whole interest of heaven above and earth around 
 centred in those straggling shacks, for they were the 
 abodes of men. 
 
 From feasting his heart upon the marvellous 
 beauty of the expanse of rounded hills, with their 
 variegation of sunlight and shadow, and the expanse 
 of cloudless sky, deep blue overhead and shading by 
 indefinable transitions through blues and purples into 
 pearl greys and rose tints, and at last into glorious 
 yellow gold at the horizon, Shock, with almost a shud- 
 der, turned his eyes to the little ragged town beneath 
 him. How marvellous the works of God ! How ugly 
 the things man makes ! 
 
 It was partly the infinitude of this contrast that 
 wrought in Shock a feeling of depression as he fol- 
 lowed the trail winding down the long slope toward 
 the town. As he became aware of this depression, he 
 took himself severely to task. 
 
 " What's the matter with me, anyway ? " he asked 
 himself impatiently. " I'm not afraid of them." 
 And yet he had a suspicion that it was just this that 
 troubled him. He was afraid. The feeling was not 
 one with which he was unfamiliar. Often before a 
 big match he had been shamefully conscious of this 
 same nervous fear. He remembered how his heart 
 had seemed to^ big for his body, till he felt it in his 
 throat. But he remembered now, with no small com- 
 fort, that once the ball was kicked his heart had 
 
166 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 always gone back to its place and its work and gave 
 him no further concern, and to-day he hoped this 
 might be his experience again. 
 
 It was a great day at the Fort, nothing less than 
 the Spring Meeting of the South Alberta Turf Asso- 
 ciation; and in that horse country, where men were 
 known by their horses rather than by personal char- 
 acteristics, the meeting of the Turf Association 
 easily took precedence over all other events, social or 
 political. 
 
 This spring, to the interest naturally centring in 
 the races, there was added a special interest, in that, 
 behind the horses entered for the Association Cup, 
 there gathered intense local feeling. The three 
 favourites were representative horses. The money of 
 the police and all the Fort contingent in the com- 
 munity had been placed on the long, rangey 
 thoroughbred, Foxhall, an imported racer who had 
 been fast enough to lose money in the great racing 
 circuits of the East, but who was believed to be fast 
 enough to win money here in the West. 
 
 The district about the fort town was divided into 
 two sections, the east and the west. In the eastern 
 section the farming industry was carried on to an 
 almost equal extent with ranching; in the west, up 
 among the hills, there was ranching pure and simple. 
 Between the two sections a strong rivalry existed. 
 In this contest the east had "banked" on Captain 
 Hal Harricomb, rancher and gentleman farmer, and 
 his black Demon. The western men, all ranchers, 
 who despised and hated farmers and everything per- 
 
THE TURF MEET 167 
 
 taining to them, were all ranged behind the Swallow, 
 a dainty little bay mare, bred, owned, and ridden by 
 a young Englishman, Victor Stanton, known through- 
 out the Albertas, south and north, as "The Kid." 
 or, affectionately, "The Kiddie," admired for his 
 superb riding, his reckless generosity, his cool cour- 
 age, and loved for his gentle, generous heart. 
 
 Already two heats had been run, one going to the 
 Demon and one to the Swallow, Foxhall sustaining his 
 Eastern reputation as a money-loser. 
 
 The excitement of the day had gradually grown in 
 intensity, and now was concentrated in the final heat 
 of the Association Cup race. 
 
 All unconscious of this excitement and of the tre- 
 mendous issues at stake, Shock sent his little cayuse 
 peacefully trotting along the trail to where it met 
 the main street. The street was lined on either side 
 with men and horses. Something was evidently going 
 on, but what Shock could not see. 
 
 But no sooner had he turned up the street than 
 there was a fierce outburst of yells, oaths, and execra- 
 tions, and at the same moment he heard behind him 
 the pounding of hoofs. 
 
 Hastily glancing over his shoulder, he saw thunder- 
 ing down upon him half a dozen or more mounted 
 men. In vain he tugged at his cayuse. The little 
 brute allowed his stubborn head to be hauled round 
 close to the shaft, but declined to remove his body; 
 and, indeed, had he been ever so eager, there would 
 hardly have been time. A big black horse was plung- 
 ing wildly not more than ten feet behind him. A 
 
168 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 fierce oath, a shower of dust and gravel in his face, a 
 flash of legs and hoofs, and the big black was 
 lifted clear over Shock and his cayuse, and was off 
 again down the street between the lines of yelling 
 men. 
 
 "Here, blank your blank head! Git off the 
 course ! Don't you know nothin' ? " 
 
 When Shock came to himself, he was aware that a 
 tall, lanky cowboy in chaps, woollen shirt, and stiff, 
 broad-brimmed hat was pounding his cayuse over the 
 head with his heavy whip. 
 
 Shock never knew how it happened. All he remem- 
 bered was a quick rush of blood to his brain, a mad 
 desire to punish the man who was brutally beating 
 his pony, and then standing by the shaft of his buck- 
 board waiting for the man to get up. 
 
 " Gad, sir ! " exclaimed a voice over his shoulder, 
 " that was a clever throw ! " There was genuine ad- 
 miration in the voice. 
 
 Shock looked up and saw an old gentleman, with 
 white, close-cropped hair and moustache and erect 
 military form, regarding him with admiration. He 
 was riding a stout hunter, docked in English style. 
 
 " And served you perfectly right, Ike," continued 
 the old gentleman. "What business have you to 
 strike any man's horse?" 
 
 " What the blank blank is he doing on the course? " 
 said Ike wrathf ully, as he slowly rose from the ground 
 and came toward Shock. 
 
 "I say, stranger," he said, coming over near to 
 Shock and looking him carefully in the eye, " I'll give 
 
THE TURF MEET 169 
 
 you twenty-five dollars if you do that agin. You 
 took me unbeknownst. Now, git to work." 
 
 Shock's heart had got back to its right place and 
 was beating its steady beat. The old scrimmage smile 
 was on his face. 
 
 " But I do not want to do it again, and I did take 
 you unawares." 
 
 " Look-a-here," said Ike 5 touching Shock with his 
 forefinger on the breast, "do you think you kin do 
 it agin?" 
 
 " Don't know that I could," said Shock quietly. 
 " But I do know that I do not intend to try. And, in 
 fact, I do not know how it was done." 
 
 " Ikey does," drawled a voice. 
 
 There was a delighted roar from the crowd that 
 had gathered round. Ike looked round the circle of 
 grinning men for a second or two. 
 
 " Say," he said slowly, " if any blank, blank son 
 of a she-ape thinks he knows how to do that trick when 
 I'm a-watchin', here's his opportunity right naouw 
 fer fun, or fer money, or," lowering his voice and 
 thrusting forward his face a little, " fer blood." 
 
 The laugh died out from the crowd. There was a 
 silence for a moment or two, and then the same voice 
 drawled, " Nobody's hungry, I guess, Ikey," and Ike 
 turned from them with a grunt of contempt. 
 
 " Now," he said, coming back to Shock, " I'd like to 
 hear you talk." 
 
 Ike threw himself into an attitude of defence, but 
 Shock's position never changed, nor did the smile fade 
 from his face. 
 
170 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " I have nothing to say except that I do not know 
 how it happened. I saw my horse being abused, and 
 - well, I acted a little hastily, I fear." 
 
 " Hastily ! " exclaimed the old gentleman, who had 
 remained in the crowd. " Nonsense ! Perfectly right, 
 I say, and Ike knows it. What would you do, Ike, if 
 you saw a fellow pounding Slipper over the ears ? " 
 
 "Poundin' Slipper?" said Ike slowly, pausing to 
 turn his quid of tobacco in his cheek. " Poundin' 
 Slipper," he repeated with even greater deliberation. 
 " Knock his blank face into the back of his head." 
 
 " Then it seems to me, Ike, you were let off easy." 
 The old gentleman smiled grimly down upon the cow- 
 boy, who was still wrathful, but more puzzled than 
 wrathful. The smiling man at the pony's head looked 
 so thoroughly good-natured that it was hard to push 
 a quarrel, but still Ike's dignity had been injured. 
 
 " What I beg to remark is," he continued, return- 
 ing to the attack, " kin he do it agin ? Does he have 
 any lingerin' suspicion that he is capable of that 
 act?" Ike reserved his best English for serious oc- 
 casions. " If he does, I'm willin' he should extem- 
 porise at it." 
 
 66 Good man, Ikey ! " drawled the voice again from 
 the crowd. "I'll back Ikey to his last pant's 
 button." 
 
 Shock stood silent and smiling, while Ike stood fac- 
 ing him, more and more puzzled. Shock was an en- 
 tirely new experience. He would not fight, he would 
 not run away, he would not even get angry. 
 
 At this point the old gentleman interfered. 
 
THE TURF MEET 171 
 
 " Now, Ikey," he said, " it is time you were learning 
 some manners. This gentleman is no pugilist. He 
 has neither the desire nor the intention of fighting 
 you, which is perhaps all the better for you. That is 
 a poor way to treat a stranger the first day he arrives 
 in our town. Perhaps you will allow me to be of some 
 service to you," he said, turning to Shock. 
 
 "Thank you," said Shock simply. "I am in need 
 of a doctor first of all. Two of my friends at Loon 
 Lake are very ill. Is there a doctor in this town? " 
 
 " There is," replied the old gentleman. " Dr. Bur- 
 ton. But I very much fear that he will hardly be 
 fit for service to-day. Unfortunately, our doctor, 
 though a remarkably clever practitioner, is not al- 
 ways well, to be quite frank, he is very frequently 
 drunk. Get him sober and he will do you good 
 service." 
 
 " How shall I accomplish that? " asked Shock, with 
 a feeling of despair in his heart, thinking of the Old 
 Prospector in his pain and of little Patsy lying in 
 semi-unconsciousness in the back room of the Loon 
 Creek Stopping Place. " I must have a doctor. I 
 cannot go back without one." 
 
 "Then," said the old gentleman, "you will need 
 to kidnap him and wait till he sobers off." 
 
 " I shall try," said Shock quietly. 
 
 The old gentleman stared at him. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he said, " I believe you mean to. And 
 if you do, you'll succeed." 
 
 " Can you direct me to the house of Mr. Macf ar- 
 ren?" inquired Shock. 
 
172 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Certainly. That is his house among the trees," 
 pointing to a cottage with a verandah about it, which 
 stood back some distance from the main street. 
 " But if you wish to see Mr. Macfarren, you will find 
 him down at the other end of the street at the finishing 
 post. He will be very busily engaged at the present, 
 however, being one of the judges in this race, and if 
 it is not of immediate importance I would advise your 
 waiting till the race is over. But stay, here he comes. 
 The man in the centre is Mr. Macfarren." 
 
 As he spoke he pointed to a tall man, with a long, 
 grizzled beard, riding a pony, followed by two 
 younger men splendidly mounted. The elder of these 
 was a man strongly built, face open and honest, but 
 showing signs of hard living. He rode a powerful 
 black horse, whose temper showed in his fierce snatch- 
 ing at the bit. Just now the horse was covered with 
 foam, reddened at the flanks and mouth with blood. 
 
 His companion was much younger, a mere boy, 
 indeed. His fair hair, blue eyes, and smooth face 
 accentuated his youthful appearance. It was his 
 youthful face and boyish manner that gave him his 
 name among the cattle men, and his place in their 
 hearts. But though they called him " The Kid," and 
 often " The Kiddie," and thought of him with admir- 
 ing and caressing tenderness, no man of them failed 
 to give him full respect; for boy as he was, he had a 
 man's nerve, a man's grip, his muscles were all steel, 
 and with all his smiling gentleness none of them 
 would think of taking a liberty with him. Earlier in 
 the day he had won from a dozen competitors that 
 
THE TURF MEET 173 
 
 most coveted of all honours in the ranching country, 
 The Bucking Belt, for he had ridden for the full 
 hundred yards without " touching leather," the out- 
 law specially imported from the other side. 
 
 As the three men rode up the rider of the black 
 horse was heard to say, " That's the fellow that nearly 
 spilled me. And if Demon hadn't been mighty quick 
 in recovering, it would have been a blank nasty mess." 
 
 " I say," said Macfarren, in a loud, blustering tone, 
 " don't you know enough to keep off a race-course 
 when a race is being run ? " 
 
 Shock was much taken aback at this greeting. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but I didn't know this was a 
 race-course, nor did I know that a race was on." 
 
 " The deuce you didn't ! Hadn't you eyes to see ? " 
 
 To this Shock made no reply, but taking a letter 
 from his pocket said quietly, "You are Mr. Mac- 
 farren, I believe. I have a letter for you from Mr. 
 Mclntyre." 
 
 At this the other two rode away. Mr. Macfarren 
 opened the letter with a scowl. As he read the flush 
 on his face deepened. 
 
 " What the deuce does this mean ? " he burst out, 
 in an angry tone. " I wrote both the Superintendent 
 and Mclntyre last week that it was a piece of folly to 
 plant a man here, that we didn't require and didn't 
 want a man. The community is well supplied already 
 with church services, and as far as the Presbyterians 
 are concerned, they would find the support of a min- 
 ister an intolerable burden." 
 
 For a moment or two Shock stood in speechless 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 amazement. It was disconcerting in the extreme to 
 be told by the man upon whom he had chiefly depended 
 for support and counsel that he was not wanted. 
 
 " Your letters would not have reached them in time, 
 I suppose," he said at last. 
 
 "Well, that's the fact, at any rate," replied Mac- 
 f arren roughly. " We won't want a minister. We 
 are thoroughly well supplied. We don't need one, 
 and we cannot support one." 
 
 He was turning away without further words when 
 he was arrested by the sharp and peremptory voice of 
 the old gentleman, who had remained behind Shock 
 during the conversation. 
 
 "Macf arren, this gentleman is a stranger, I pre- 
 sume. Will you kindly present me ? " 
 
 " Oh ah certainly," said Macf arren, wheeling 
 
 his pony and looking rather ashamed. " Mr. " 
 
 looking at the letter. 
 
 " Macgregor," said Shock quietly. 
 
 "Mr. Macgregor, this is General Brady, one of 
 our leading ranchers." 
 
 " I am delighted to make your acquaintance, sir," 
 said General Brady, shaking Shock warmly by the 
 hand. "You will find us rough and wild, but, sir, I 
 am glad to say we are not all a blank lot of boors." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Shock, with a sudden flush 
 on his face. 
 
 " Oh ah certainly we are glad to have you visit 
 our town," said Macfarren, as if trying to atone for 
 his former rudeness. " And, of course, it is no fault 
 of yours, Mr. ah " 
 
THE TURF MEET 175 
 
 "Macgregor," said the General shortly. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Macgregor. There's a deuce of a mis- 
 take been made, but I take it you will not suffer. 
 There are plenty of ah positions places, I be- 
 lieve, where you will find ah opportunity. But if 
 you will excuse me, I am busy for the moment. I 
 shall doubtless see you again before you leave." 
 
 Shock bowed in silence. 
 
 " Blank cad ! " muttered the General. Then turn- 
 ing to Shock he said, with hearty interest showing in 
 his tone, " Where do you put up, Mr. Macgregor ? " 
 
 "I do not know the town at all. I shall have to 
 look about for a boarding place of some kind, I sup- 
 pose." Shock's smile was rather uncertain. 
 
 The General was evidently interested in this 
 stranger, and touched by his forlorn condition. 
 
 " The Royal there," pointing down the street, " is 
 the best hotel. They do you there not so badly. 
 They may give you accommodation for a night, but 
 I fancy it will be rather difficult to find a boarding 
 house. But," he added heartily, "why not come to 
 me in the meantime? Mrs. Brady and myself will be 
 most happy to have you visit us for a few weeks, till 
 you find quarters. I have, unfortunately, an engage- 
 ment that will keep me late in town to-night, else I 
 should insist on your accompanying me at once an 
 engagement which I cannot well break. In short, 
 this is our annual spring meeting of the Turf Associa- 
 tion, and there is in connection with it some sort of 
 social function to wind the thing up to-night, and 
 Mrs. Brady, being one of the patronesses, and I my- 
 
176 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 self being more or less interested the president of the 
 Association, indeed we cannot avoid putting in an 
 appearance. And indeed, we enjoy it, sir. We 
 thoroughly enjoy it. It brings to our present crude 
 and somewhat limited life a little bit of the past. 
 But to-morrow I shall be glad to ride down for you, 
 sir, and bring you up to my little place." 
 
 The cordial kindness of this stranger, upon whom 
 he had no claim, touched Shock greatly. 
 
 " Thank you again," he said. " I cannot tell you 
 how much I feel your kindness. But if you will allow 
 me, I would rather accept your invitation later. I 
 feel I must get settled to my work at once. I have 
 been long on the way, and my work is waiting me." 
 Then, after a pause, he added simply, " But your 
 kindness makes me think of a word I have read, 6 1 
 was a stranger, and ye took me in.' ' 
 
 The General bowed in silence, and seeing that 
 Shock was not to be persuaded, shook hands with him 
 once more. " Come when you will, sir, and stay as 
 long as you can. The sooner you come and the 
 longer you stay, the better we shall be pleased." And 
 with another courteous bow the General rode off to 
 attend to his duties as President of the Turf Asso- 
 ciation. 
 
 As Shock turned back to his buckboard he found 
 Ike waiting him. Ike had been an interested witness 
 of all that had taken place, and while his sympathy 
 had gone completely with Shock and against Mac- 
 farren, he had not been quite able to shake off the 
 feeling of humiliation under which he suffered. 
 
THE TURF MEET 177 
 
 " Say, stranger," he said, touching Shock on the 
 shoulder, and speaking in a low and almost respectful 
 tone, "there aint a man in the Territories has ever 
 put the dust onto Ike Iveson's pants. Here's twenty- 
 five dollars," diving deep into his hip pocket and pull- 
 ing out a plug of tobacco, a knife, and a roll of bills, 
 "which is a standin' offer to any man who can cir- 
 cumvent that there trick. And I want to say," he 
 continued, with a subdued eagerness in his tone, " I'll 
 make it fifty if you do it agin." 
 
 Ike's tone was persuasive. There was nothing of 
 resentment in it. It was the tone of a man who had 
 come upon an interesting and puzzling experience, 
 and was anxious to investigate. 
 
 "No," said Shock, backing away from Ike, "I 
 cannot take that. Besides, it was not a fair throw." 
 
 "Well," said Ike, much mollified, "that's so, that's 
 so. And I consider it something handsome in you 
 say in' so. But that offer stands." 
 
 "All right," said Shock, smiling a little more 
 broadly. " I'll remember. And when I want fifty 
 dollars very badly I may come to you. But," he 
 added, looking Ike up and down, " I'll have to ba 
 pretty hard pushed before I try." 
 
 " It's a bargain, stranger," said Ikey, offering a 
 languid hand. Shock grasped it warmly. A slight 
 tremour ran over Ike's lanky frame as Shock's hand 
 closed on his. 
 
 " Je-roo-sa-lem! " he ejaculated, drawing in his 
 breath, as Shock turned away. "I'll be ready fer 
 you next time. I prefer a grizzly myself." He 
 
178 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 looked down at his finger nails. " Didn't expect to 
 see 'em on," he observed. " And say, boys," turning 
 to the crowd, " I surmise he's a preacher, a blank fire- 
 escape." 
 
 At once Ike became the object of various comments. 
 
 " A preacher, Ike ? Say, you'll have to change 
 your ways and go to meetin'." 
 
 "What's Ikey's church, anyway?" 
 
 " Don't know as I ever heard." 
 
 " Oh, Ikey aint mean, he treats 'em all the same." 
 
 " Well, I guess Ikey '11 have to dust toward the sky- 
 line." 
 
 Ike listened for a time unmoved, and then drawled 
 out quietly, " What I want to remark to you jay birds 
 is, that if ever you have any misunderstandin' with 
 that there ascension ladder, he'll make you say more 
 prayers in a minute than you've said for the last ten 
 years of your mortal life. And if ever he gits after 
 you the only thing that'll save you will be your 
 dust." 
 
 So saying Ike slouched off down the street, keeping 
 his eye on Shock's buckboard. He watched him go 
 into the Royal and in a few minutes come out again, 
 followed him to the International, and soon after to 
 the Ranchers' Roost. 
 
 " Guess he's purty nigh tangled up now," said 
 Ikey, with considerable satisfaction. He had a scheme 
 of his own in mind. " There aint a six-foot hole in 
 this hull town, and he'd take purty nigh seven. Now, 
 what's his next move ? " 
 
 Shock appeared undecided. There was evidently 
 
THE TURF MEET 179 
 
 no place for him in the town. He had a deepening 
 sense of being not wanted. The town was humming 
 with life, but in that life there was no place for him. 
 Awakening a strange sense of fellowship the words 
 came to him, "He was rejected of men." 
 
XI 
 
 " I WAS A STRANGER, AND YE TOOK ME IN " 
 
 A Shock stood, uncertain as to his next move, 
 he noticed that out of the confused mingling 
 of men and horses order began to appear. 
 The course was once more being cleared. 
 The final heat, which the Swallow had won, and which 
 had been protested by the owner of the Demon, on the 
 ground that his course had been blocked by Shock and 
 his cayuse, was to be run again. Shock was too much 
 occupied with his own disappointment and uncer- 
 tainty to take much interest in the contest that was 
 the occasion of such intense excitement to the throngs 
 on the street. With languid indifference he watched 
 the course being cleared and the competitors canter 
 back to the starting point. Behind them followed a 
 cavalcade of horsemen on all sorts of mounts, from 
 the shaggy little cayuse, with diminishing rump, to 
 the magnificent thoroughbred stallion, stall-fed and 
 shining. In the final heat it was the custom for all 
 the horsemen in the crowd to join at a safe distance 
 behind the contestants, in a wild and tumultuous 
 scramble. 
 
 Shock's attention was arrested and his interest 
 quickened by the appearance of Ike in the crowd, 
 riding a hard-looking, bony, buckskin broncho, which 
 he guessed to be Slipper. 
 
 180 
 
" I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN " 181 
 
 In a short time the Demon and the Swallow were 
 in their places. Far behind them bunched the motley 
 crowd of horsemen. 
 
 The start was to be by the pistol shot, and from 
 the scratch. So intense was the stillness of the excited 
 crowd that, although the starting point was more 
 than half a mile out on the prairie, the crack of the 
 pistol was clearly heard. 
 
 In immediate echo the cry arose, " They're off ! 
 They're off ! " and necks were strained to catch a 
 glimpse of the first that should appear where the 
 course took a slight turn. 
 
 In a few seconds the two leading horses are seen, 
 the riders low over their necks, and behind them, 
 almost hidden by the dust, the crowd of yelling, 
 waving, shooting horsemen. 
 
 The Demon is leading, the Swallow close on his 
 flank. As they come within clear view the experienced 
 eyes of the crowd see that while the Demon, though as 
 yet untouched by whip or spur, is doing all that is in 
 him, the Swallow is holding him easily. On all sides 
 the men of the west raise a paean of victory, " The 
 Swallow! The Swallow! Good boy, Kiddie! Let 
 her go ! Let her go ! " " You've got him standing ! " 
 "Bully boy!" 
 
 Fifty yards from the winning post The Kid leans 
 over his mare's neck and shakes out his fluttering 
 reins. Like the bird whose name she bears the Swal- 
 low darts to the front, a length ahead. In vain the 
 Captain calls to the Demon, plying fiercely whip and 
 spur. With nostrils distended and blood-red, with 
 
182 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 eyes starting from their sockets, and mouth foaming 
 bloody froth, the noble animal responds and essays 
 his final attempt. 
 
 It is a magnificent effort. Slowly he creeps up to 
 the Swallow's flank, but beyond that he cannot make 
 an inch, and so they remain to the winning post. 
 
 Down the street behind the leaders, yelling wild 
 oaths, shooting off their guns, flinging hats in the 
 air, and all enveloped in a cloud of dust, thunders the 
 pursuing cavalcade. 
 
 Just as the Swallow shoots to the front, out from 
 the cloud of dust behind, with his cowboy hat high in 
 one hand and his reins fluttering loosely in the other, 
 Ike emerges on his beloved Slipper. At every bound 
 the buckskin gains upon the runners in front, but 
 when level with the Demon, Ike steadier iiim down, 
 for he would not be guilty of the bad taste of 
 " shoving his nose into another man's fight," nor 
 would he deprive the little mare, who carried the for- 
 tunes of the men of the west, of the glory of !ser 
 victory. 
 
 The riot that follows the race passes description. 
 The men from the west go mad. About The Kid 
 and his little mare they surge in a wave of frantic 
 enthusiasm. Into the Ranchers' Roost they carry the 
 rider to wash down the dust, while as many as can 
 find room for a hand get vigorously to work upon the 
 Swallow. 
 
 After the riot had somewhat subsided and the street 
 had become partially clear, side by side, threading 
 their way through the crowd, appeared the two com- 
 
"I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN " 183 
 
 petitors for the Cup. On all sides they were greeted 
 with renewed cheers, and under the excitement of the 
 hour they abandoned the customary reserve of the 
 cowboy, and began performing what seemed to Shock 
 impossible feats of horsemanship. 
 
 " I bet you I'll ride her into the Roost, Captain," 
 cried The Kiddie. 
 
 " Done, for the drinks ! " replied the Captain. 
 
 The boy cantered his mare across the street. 
 
 " Out of the way there ! " he cried. " Out of the 
 way, you fellows ! I'm coming ! " 
 
 As he spoke he put the little mare straight at the 
 flight of steps leading up to the door of the Roost. 
 The crowd parted hastily, but the Swallow balked 
 and swerved, and but for the fine horsemanship of the 
 rider he would have been thrown. 
 
 With an oath, the Kid took hold of his horse 
 again, and riding carelessly, faced her once more at 
 the steps. But again she plunged, reared, swung 
 round, and set off at a run down the street. 
 
 The lad rode her easily back, brought her up to 
 the steps at a walk, quieted her with voice and hand, 
 and then, cantering across the street, came back again 
 at an easy lope to the steps. The mare made as if to 
 balk again. 
 
 "Up, girl!" cried the boy, lifting her with the 
 rein ; and then, as she rose, touching her with the spur, 
 Like a cat the little mare clambered up the steps, and 
 before she could change her mind she found herself 
 through the door, standing in the bar-room with her 
 rider on her back. 
 
184 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Through the outer entrance thronged the crowd 
 of men, giving vent to their admiration in yells and 
 oaths, and lining up at the bar waited for the pay- 
 ment of the bet. 
 
 Shock, who had been singularly attracted by the 
 handsome, boyish face of the rider, walked up to the 
 door and stood looking in, his great form towering 
 above the crowd of men that swayed and jostled, chaf- 
 fing and swearing, inside. As he stood looking at the 
 boy, sitting his horse with such careless grace, and 
 listening with pleased and smiling face to the varied 
 and picturesque profanity in which the crowd were 
 expressing their admiration, the words of his Con- 
 vener came to his mind, " They may not want you, 
 but they need you." 
 
 " Yes," he muttered to himself, " they need me, or 
 someone better." 
 
 A great pity for the lad filled his heart and over- 
 flowed from his eyes. 
 
 The boy caught the look. With a gay laugh he 
 cried, " I would drink to your very good health, sir ! " 
 his high, clear voice penetrating the din and bringing 
 the crowd to silence. " But why carry so grave a face 
 at such a joyous moment? " He lifted his glass over 
 his head and bowed low to Shock. 
 
 Arrested by his words, the crowd turned their eyes 
 toward the man that stood in the door, waiting in 
 silence for his reply. 
 
 A quick flush rose to Shock's face, but without 
 moving his eyes from the gay, laughing face of the 
 boy, he said in a clear, steady voice, " I thank you, 
 
"I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN " 185 
 
 sir, for your courtesy, and I ask your pardon if my 
 face was grave. I was thinking of your mother." 
 
 As if someone had stricken him the boy swayed 
 over his horse's neck, but in a moment recovering 
 himself he sat up straight, and lifting high his glass, 
 he said reverently, as if he had been toasting the 
 Queen : " Gentlemen, my mother ! God bless her ! " 
 
 " God bless her ! " echoed the men. 
 
 Drinking off the glass he dismounted and, followed 
 by the cheers of the crowd, led his horse out of the 
 room and down the steps, and rode away. 
 
 Meantime Shock went in search of the doctor. In 
 a corner of the International bar he found him in a 
 drunken sleep. After vain efforts to wake him, with- 
 out more ado Shock lifted him in his arms, carried 
 him out to the buckboard and drove away, followed 
 by the jibes and compliments of the astonished crowd. 
 
 But what to do with him was the question. There 
 was no room for himself, much less for his charge, 
 in any of the hptels or stopping places. 
 
 " May as well begin now," Shock said to himself, 
 and drove out to a little bluff of poplars at the river 
 bank near the town, and prepared to camp. 
 
 He disposed of the doctor by laying him in the 
 back of his buckboard, covered with the buffalo. He 
 unhitched and tethered the pony, and, according to 
 his crude notions of what a camp should be, began to 
 make his preparations. With very considerable diffi- 
 culty, he first of all started a fire. 
 
 " Hello ! Rather chilly for campin' out yit? " 
 
 He looked up and saw Ike. 
 
186 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "I guess you aint lived much out of doors," con- 
 tinued his visitor, glancing at the apology for a fire, 
 and noticing the absence of everything in camp- 
 making that distinguishes the experienced camper. 
 
 " No, this is my first camp," said Shock. " But 
 I suppose every man must make a beginning." 
 
 "Yes," agreed Ike, "when he's got to. But I 
 have a lingerin' suspicion that you'd be better inside 
 to-night. It aint goin' to be pleasant." 
 
 " Oh, I'll be all right," replied Shock cheerfully. 
 " I have a small tent, a couple of coats, a pair of 
 blankets, and my pony has got his oats." 
 
 " Yes," drawled Ike, regarding the cayuse with 
 contemptuous eyes, " he's all right. You can't kill 
 them fellers. But, as I remarked, you'd be better 
 inside." 
 
 He walked around the buckboard and his eyes fell 
 upon the doctor. 
 
 "What the " Ike checked himself, either out 
 
 of deference to Shock's profession or more likely from 
 sheer amazement. 
 
 He turned down the buffalo, gazed at the sleeping 
 figure with long and grave interest, then lifting his 
 head he remarked with impressive solemnity, " Well, 
 I be chawed and swallered! You have got him, eh? 
 Now, how did you do it? " 
 
 " Well," said Shock, " it was not difficult. I found 
 him asleep in the International. I carried him out, 
 and there he is." 
 
 " Say," said Ike, looking at Shock with dawning 
 admiration in his eyes, " you're a bird ! Is there any- 
 
I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN " 187 
 
 thin' else you want in that town? Guess not, else it 
 would be here. The General said you'd kidnap him, 
 and he was right. Now, what you goin' to do when he 
 comes to? There aint much shelter in this bluff, and 
 when he wakes he'll need someone to set up with him, 
 sure. He's a terror, a dog-goned terror ! " 
 
 " Oh, we'll manage," said Shock lightly. " I mean 
 to start early in the morning." 
 
 " Before he gets up, eh? As I remarked before, 
 you're a bird ! " 
 
 For some moments Ike hung about the camp, 
 poking the fire, evidently somewhat disturbed in his 
 mind. Finally he said in a hesitating tone, " It aint 
 much to offer any man, but my shack kin hold two 
 men as well as one, and I guess three could squeeze 
 in, specially if the third is in the condition he's in," 
 nodding toward the doctor. " We kin lay him on 
 the floor. Of course, it aint done up with no picters 
 and hangin's, but it keeps out the breeze, and there 
 aint no bugs, you bet." 
 
 Shock's experience of Western shacks had not been 
 sufficiently varied and extensive to enable him to 
 appreciate to the full this last commendation of Ike's. 
 
 Ike's hesitation in making the offer determined 
 Shock. 
 
 " Thank you very much," he said cordially. " I 
 shall be delighted to go with you." 
 
 "All right, let's git," said Ike, proceeding to hitch 
 up the pony, while Shock gathered his stuff together. 
 In a few minutes they were ready to start. 
 
 " Guess he'll ride comfortable where he is," said 
 
188 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Ike. " You can't kill a drunk man. Strange, 
 aint it? " 
 
 It was growing dusk as they drove through the 
 town, but the streets, the hotel stoops, and bars were 
 filled with men in various stages of intoxication. As 
 they caught sight of Ike and recognised his com- 
 panion, they indulged themselves in various facetious 
 remarks. 
 
 "Hello, Ike. Goin' to meetin'?" 
 
 " No," retorted Ike shortly. " Goin' to school f er 
 manners. Want to come? " 
 
 " Ikey's got religion. Caught on to the fire-escape 
 you bet." 
 
 " No, he's goin' to learn that rasslin' trick." 
 
 " Ikey's showin' the stranger the town. He's on 
 for a bust, you bet." 
 
 " Blank lot of jay birds," said Ike grimly, in a 
 low tone. "I'll see 'em later. You'd think they'd 
 never seen a stranger before." 
 
 " That is all for me, I suppose, Ike," said Shock 
 apologetically. 
 
 " Don't you worry. It won't give me any grey 
 hair." Ike emphasised his indifference by tilting his 
 hat till it struck on the extreme back of his head, and 
 lounging back in his seat with his feet on the dash- 
 board. 
 
 " They all seen you givin' me that h'ist this after- 
 noon," he continued, " and they can't get over that 
 we aint fightin'. And," he added, hitting the hub of 
 the wheel with a stream of tobacco juice, " it is a 
 rather remarkable reminiscence." 
 
"I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN " 189 
 
 Ike had a fondness for words not usually current 
 among the cowboys, and in consequence his English 
 was more or less reminiscent, and often phonetic 
 rather than etymoligical. 
 
 Ike's shack stood at the further side of the town. 
 Upon entering Shock discovered that it needed no 
 apology for its appearance. The board walls were 
 adorned with illustrations from magazines and papers, 
 miscellaneous and without taint of prejudice, the 
 Sunday Magazine and the Police Gazette having 
 places of equal honour. On the wall, too, were nailed 
 heads of mountain sheep and goats, of wapiti and 
 other deer, proclaiming Ike a hunter. 
 
 Everything in the shack was conspicuously clean, 
 from the pots, pans, and cooking utensils, which hung 
 on a row of nails behind the stove, to the dish-cloth, 
 which was spread carefully to dry over the dish-pan. 
 Had Shock's experience of bachelors' shacks and 
 bachelors' dishes been larger, he would have been more 
 profoundly impressed with that cooking outfit, and 
 especially with the dish-cloth. As it was, the dish- 
 cloth gave Shock a sense of security and comfort. 
 
 Depositing the doctor upon a buffalo skin on the 
 floor in the corner, with a pillow under his head, they 
 proceeded to their duties, Ike to prepare the evening 
 meal, and Shock to unpack his stuff, wondering all 
 the while how this cowboy had come to hunt him up 
 and treat him with such generous hospitality. 
 
 This mystery was explained as they sat about the 
 fire after the tea-dishes had been most carefully 
 washed and set away, Ike smoking and Shock musing. 
 
190 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " That old skunk rather turned you down, I guess,** 
 remarked Ike, after a long silence ; " that old Mac- 
 farren, I mean," in answer to Shock's look of en- 
 quiry. 
 
 " I was surprised, I confess," replied Shock. " You 
 see, I was led to believe that he was waiting for me, 
 and I was depending upon him. Now, I really do not 
 know what to think." 
 
 " Movin' out, perhaps ? " said Ike, casting a sharp 
 look at him from out of his half -closed eyes. 
 
 " What ? Leave this post, do you mean ? " said 
 Shock, his indignant surprise showing in his tone. 
 " No, sir. At least, not till my chief says so." 
 
 A gleam shot out from under Ike's lowered eye- 
 lids. 
 
 " The old fellow '11 make it hot for you, if you don't 
 move. Guess he expects you to move," said Ike 
 quietly. 
 
 " Move ! " cried Shock again, stirred at the remem- 
 brance of Macfarren's treatment that afternoon. 
 " Would you? " 
 
 " See him blanked first," said Ike quietly. 
 
 " So will I," said Shock emphatically. " I mean," 
 correcting himself hastily, " see him saved first." 
 
 "Eh? Oh well, guess he needs some. He needs 
 manners, anyhow. He'll worry you, I guess. You 
 see, he surmises he's the entire bunch, but a man's 
 opinion of himself don't really affect the size of his 
 hat band." 
 
 Shock felt the opportunity to be golden for the 
 gathering of information about men and things in 
 
"I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN." 191 
 
 the country where his work was to be done. He felt 
 that to see life through the eyes of a man like Ike, 
 who represented a large and potent element in the 
 community, would be valuable indeed. 
 
 It was difficult to make Ike talk, but by careful 
 suggestions, rather than by questioning, Ike was 
 finally led to talk, and Shock began to catch glimpses 
 of a world quite new to him, and altogether wonderful. 
 He made the astounding discovery that things that 
 had all his life formed the basis of his thinking were 
 to Ike and his fellows not so much unimportant as 
 irrelevant; and as for the great spiritual verities 
 which lay at the root of all Shock's mental and, 
 indeed, physical activities, furnishing motive and 
 determining direction, these to Ike were quite remote 
 from all practical living. What had God to do with 
 rounding up cattle, or broncho-busting, or horse-trad- 
 ing? True, the elemental virtues of justice, truth, 
 charity, and loyalty , were as potent over Ike as over 
 Shock, but their t moral standards were so widely dif- 
 ferent that these very virtues could hardly be classi- 
 fied in the same categories. Truth was sacred, but 
 lying was one thing and horse-swapping another, and 
 if a man was " white to the back " what more would 
 you ask, even though at poker he could clean you out 
 of your whole outfit? 
 
 Hitherto, a man who paid no respect to the decen- 
 cies of religion Shock had regarded as " a heathen 
 man and a publican," but with Ike religion, with all 
 its great credos, with all its customs, had simply no 
 bearing. Shock had not talked long with Ike until 
 
192 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 he began to feel that he must readjust not only his 
 whole system of theology, but even his moral stand- 
 ards, and he began to wonder how the few sermons 
 and addresses he had garnered from his ministry in 
 the city wards would do for Ike and his people. He 
 was making the discovery that climate changes the 
 complexion, not only of men, but of habits of thought 
 and action. 
 
 As Shock was finding his way to new adjustments 
 and new standards he was incidentally finding his way 
 into a new feeling of brotherhood as well. The lines 
 of cleavage which had hitherto determined his inter- 
 ests and affinities were being obliterated. The ficti- 
 tious and accidental were fading out under this new 
 atmosphere, and the great lines of sheer humanity 
 were coming to stand out with startling clearness. Up 
 to this time creed and class had largely determined 
 both his interest and his responsibility, but now, apart 
 from class and creed, men became interesting, and for 
 men he began to feel responsibility. He realised 
 as never before that a man was the great asset 
 of the universe not his clothes, material, social or 
 religious. 
 
 It was this new feeling of interest and responsibility 
 that made him ask, " Who was that lad that rode the 
 winning horse to-day? " 
 
 "That chap? "replied Ike. " He's my boss. The 
 Kid, they call him." 
 
 Men of laconic speech say much by tone and ges- 
 ture, and often by silence. In Ike's tone Shock read 
 contempt, admiration, pity. 
 
I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN " 193 
 
 "A rancher?" he enquired. 
 
 " Well, he's got a ranch, and horses and cattle on 
 
 it, like the rest of 'em. But ranchin' " Ike's 
 
 silence was more than sufficient. 
 
 " Well," said Shock, with admiring emphasis, *' he 
 seems to be able to ride, Anyway." 
 
 "Ride! I should surmise! Ride! That kid could 
 ride anythin' from a he-goat to a rampagin', highpot- 
 topotamus. Why, look here ! " Ike waxed enthusi- 
 astic. " He's been two years in this country, and he's 
 got us all licked good and quiet. Why, he could give 
 points to any cattle-man in Alberta." 
 
 " Well, what's the matter with him? " 
 
 "Money!" said Ike wrathfully. "Some blamed 
 fool uncle at home he's got no parents, I under- 
 stand keeps a-sendin' him money. Consequently, 
 every remittance he cuts things loose, with everyone 
 in sight a-helpin' him." 
 
 " What a shame ! " cried Shock. " He has a nice 
 face. I just like to look at him." 
 
 " That's right ! " answered Ike, with no waning of 
 his enthusiasm. " He's white but he's soft. Makes 
 me so blank mad! He don't know they're playin* 
 him, and makin' him pay for the game. The only 
 question is, will he hold out longer'n his money." 
 
 "Why! hasn't he any friends here who would re- 
 monstrate with him? " 
 
 " Remonstrate ! Remonstrate ! " Ike rolled the 
 word under his tongue as if it felt good. " You try 
 to remonstrate, and see him look at you, and then 
 smile, till you feel like a cluckin' hen that has lost her 
 
194- THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 nest. Not any for me, thank you. But it's a blank 
 pity! He's a white kiddie, he is." 
 
 " And that friend of his who was riding with him 
 who is he? " , 
 
 "Harricomb Captain Hal Harricomb, they call 
 him. Good sort of fellow, too, but lazy and con- 
 siderable money. Goin' at a pretty good lick. Wife 
 pulls him up, I guess. Good thing for him, too. 
 Lives up by the General's old gent, you know, sat 
 by when you set me down out yonder. Mighty slick, 
 too. Wasn't on to you, though." 
 
 " No," Shock hastened to say, " it was a flukey of 
 course. General Brady, you mean. Yes, he was very 
 kind, indeed." 
 
 " Oh, the General's a gentleman, you bet ! Horse 
 ranch. Not very big, but makes it go." 
 
 " Could not a man like the General, now, help that 
 young fellow what is his name? " 
 
 "His name? Well, he goes by * The Kid.' His 
 name's Stanton, I think. Yes, Stanton Vic Stan- 
 ton. Though he never gets it." 
 
 "Well, could not the General help him?" re- 
 peated Shock. 
 
 " Help The Kid? Not he, nor anyone else. When 
 a horse with blood in him gets a-goin', why, he's got 
 to go till his wind gives out, unless you throw him 
 right down, and that's resky. You've got to wait 
 his time. Then's your chance. And that reminds 
 me," said Ike, rising and knocking the ashes out of 
 his pipe, " that I've got a job on hand. There'll be 
 doin's to-night there after the happy time is over." 
 
" I WAS A STRANGER, YE TOOK ME IN " 19* 
 
 Shock looked mystified. 
 
 " They'll get the ladies off, you know, and then 
 the fun'll begin." 
 
 "Fun?" 
 
 Ike winked a long, significant wink. " Yes. Lit'- 
 rary Society, you know. A little game in the back 
 room." 
 
 " And are you going to play, Ike ? " 
 
 " Not to-night, thank you. I aint no saint, but I 
 aint a blank fool altogether, and to-night I got to 
 keep level. To-day's the boss's remittance day. He's 
 got his cheque, I've heard, and they're goin 5 to roll 
 him." 
 
 "Roll him?" 
 
 " Yes, clean him out. So I surmise it'd be wise for 
 me to be on hand." 
 
 " Why, what have you got to do with it, Ike ? " 
 
 Ike paused for a few moments, while he filled his 
 pipe, preparatory to going out. 
 
 "Well, that's what I don't right know. It aint 
 any of my own business. Course he's my boss, but it 
 aint that. Somehow, that Kiddie has got a hitch onto 
 my innards, and I can't let him get away. He's got 
 such a blank slick way with him that he makes you 
 feel like doin' the things you hate to do. Why, 
 when he smiles at you the sun begins to shine. 
 That's so. Why, you saw that race this after- 
 noon ? " 
 
 " Yes, the last heat." 
 
 " Well, did you observe Slipper come in? " 
 
 "Well, yes, I did. And I could not understand 
 
196 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 why Slipper was not running. Why didn't you run 
 him, Ike?" 
 
 "Why?" said Ike, "that's what I don't know. 
 There aint nothin' on four legs with horsehide on in 
 these here Territories that can make Slipper take 
 dust, but then well, I knowed he had money on the 
 Swallow. But I guess I must be goin 9 ." 
 
 " But what are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'll fall down somewheres and go to sleep. 
 You see lots of things when you're asleep, providin* 
 you know how to accomplish it." 
 
 " Shall I go with you? " asked Shock. 
 
 Ike regarded him curiously. 
 
 " Guess you wouldn't care to be mixed up in this 
 kind of thing. But blame it, if I don't think you'd 
 stay with it if it was in your line, which it aint." 
 
 " But suppose you get into difficulty." 
 
 " Well," said Ike, smiling a slow smile, " when I 
 want you I'll send for you," and with that he passed 
 out into the night. 
 
xn 
 
 HIS KEEPER 
 
 TILL long after midnight Shock sat over the 
 fire pondering the events of the day, and try- 
 ing to make real to himself the strange series 
 of happenings that had marked his introduc- 
 tion to his work in this country. His life for the 
 last month had been so unlike anything in his past 
 as to seem quite unnatural. 
 
 As he sat thus musing over the past and planning 
 for the future, a knock came to the door, and almost 
 immediately there came in a little man, short and 
 squat, with humped shoulders, bushy, grizzled hair 
 and beard, through which peered sharp little black 
 eyes. His head and face and eyes made one think of 
 a little Scotch terrier. 
 
 "Ye're the meenister?" he said briefly. 
 
 " Yes," replied Shock, greatly surprised at his vis- 
 itor, but warming to the Scotch voice. 
 
 " Aye. Ye're wanted." 
 
 "Wanted? By whom?" 
 
 16 The man that lives in this hoose. He's deein% 
 I'm thinkin'." 
 
 " Dying ! " said Shock, starting up and seizing his 
 hat. "What like?" 
 
 " Aye, Ike. He's verra ill." 
 197 
 
198 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "Go on, then," said Shock. "Quick!" 
 
 "Aye, quick it is." And the little man, without 
 further words, plunged into the darkness. 
 
 A few minutes' swift walk through the black night 
 brought them to the Ranchers' Roost. There, in a 
 corner of the room at the back of the bar, he found 
 Ike lying almost unconscious, and apparently very ill. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ? " cried Shock, dropping 
 on his knees beside Ike. But Ike seemed stupefied, 
 and mumbled a few incoherent words. Shock caught 
 the words, "the gang," and "dope." 
 
 He looked in an agony of helplessness at the little 
 Scotchman, who stood by looking down upon the sick 
 man with face quite unmoved. 
 
 " Do you know what he says ? " enquired Shock. 
 
 "He's no sayin' much," said the the little Scotch- 
 man calmly. 
 
 Again Ike tried to speak, and this time Shock 
 caught the words, " The boss gang's got him 
 Smiley Simmons back room fetch him." 
 
 "What does he mean?" cried Shock. 
 
 " It's ha-r-r-d to tell that," said the little Scotch- 
 man. "He's talkin' about some boss or other." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know what that means. He is re- 
 ferring to his boss, young Stanton." 
 
 " Oh, ay ! " said the little Scotchman, with a light 
 breaking on his face. "I saw the bodies. They've 
 gaen o'er to the creature Simmons'." 
 
 " Show me the way," said Shock. " Quick 5 " 
 
 "Come, then," said the little Scotchman, leading 
 once more into the darkness. 
 
HIS KEEPER 199 
 
 Some distance down the street stood Smiley or as 
 some preferred to call him Slimy Simmons' general 
 store. At the back of the store there was a side door. 
 
 "They're in yonder," said the little Scotchman, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Shock knocked at the door, but there was no re- 
 sponse. He turned the handle, opened the door, and 
 walking in found himself in the back of the store, in 
 a room dimly lighted by a hanging lantern. Seated 
 on a stool at a high desk, evidently busy with his 
 ledger, sat a man, tall, slender, and wiry. He had a 
 sharp, thin face, with high forehead, protruding nose, 
 and receding chin. The moment he spoke Shock dis- 
 covered at once how it was he came by his nickname. 
 His smile was the most striking characteristic of his 
 manner. Indeed, so permanent and pervasive did his 
 smile appear, that it seemed almost to be a fixed fea- 
 ture of his face. 
 
 He came forward to Shock, rubbing his hands. 
 
 " Ah, good evening," he said, in a most insinuating 
 voice. " Is there anything I can do for you ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Shock, instinctively shrinking from 
 him. " I want to see Mr. Stanton." 
 
 " Mr. Stanton Mr. Stanton ? Let me see. I saw 
 Mr. Stanton some hours ago. Let me think. Was 
 it at the International? Yes, I think it was the In- 
 ternational. No, in the Royal. I have no doubt you 
 will find him there. I shall be pleased to show you, 
 for I see you are a stranger. We are always de- 
 lighted to see strangers and we try to make them 
 welcome to our town." 
 
200 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 He moved toward the door as he spoke. Shock 
 knew at once he was lying. 
 
 " Mr. Stanton is not at the Royal. I have been 
 informed he is in this building somewhere." 
 
 " In this building?" murmured Smiley, in a 
 puzzled tone. " In this building ? " He glanced up 
 at the ceiling as if expecting to see the missing man 
 there. " Strange," he continued. " Now, I have 
 been here for some time, for hours, indeed. I am a 
 busy man, Mr. " 
 
 " Macgregor," replied Shock. 
 
 "Mr. Macgregor. I find it necessary to pursue 
 my avocation into the hours we generally devote to 
 slumber. And to-day business has been unusually in- 
 terrupted. But I have failed to notice Mr. Stanton 
 enter." 
 
 At the further end of the room Shock's eyes fell 
 upon a door, through the cracks of which a light was 
 shining. 
 
 " It is possible," said Shock, " he is in that room,'* 
 pointing to the door. 
 
 "Hardly, my dear sir, hardly." 
 
 But even as he spoke a voice, loud and clear, rang 
 out. " Now, my dear fellow, go to the deuce. That 
 comes to me." 
 
 The reply Shock could not catch. 
 
 "I think," he said, turning to Smiley, "we shall 
 find Mr. Stanton in there." 
 
 As he spoke he walked toward the door. But 
 Smiley slipped before him. 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear sir, that is a private room 
 
HIS KEEPER 201 
 
 some friends of mine who would greatly dislike being 
 disturbed. I am exceedingly sorry I cannot oblige 
 you." 
 
 " I must see Mr. Stanton," said Shock, putting his 
 hand upon the door knob. 
 
 "My dear sir," said Simmons, his thin lips drawn 
 back over his yellow teeth, " I regret to say it is 
 impossible. If Mr. Stanton is in there mark me, I 
 say if he is in there, which is extremely unlikely but 
 if he is in there, he would be very unwilling to be 
 disturbed at this hour. However, since you are so 
 anxious, I shall take him a message." 
 
 As Smiley said this he bowed with an air of 
 gracious condescension, as if he expected Shock to 
 be profoundly impressed with this concession to his 
 persistence. But Shock was not at all impressed. 
 
 " I cannot wait longer," he said. " It is a matter 
 of life and death. I must enter that room." 
 
 "My dear sir," said Simmons, rubbing his hands, 
 his smile becoming more and more expansive, " this 
 is my house, that door is my door. If you break it 
 I should be grieved to have to exact the full penalty 
 of the law." 
 
 Shock hesitated. He had never willingly broken 
 a law in his life. It would be a most unfortunate 
 beginning for his mission in this town, and, after all, 
 what business had he to interfere? If this young 
 fool was determined to waste his money, let him do so. 
 But he thought of Ike, and the entreaty in his voice 
 as he whispered out his broken words, and he thought 
 of the look of reverence and love on the lad's face that 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 afternoon when he gave his toast, "My mother! 
 God bless her!" Shock's face set hard. 
 
 " I must see him," he said simply, but with such an 
 air of determination that Simmons weakened. 
 
 " Well, if you wait a few minutes," replied Smiley, 
 " I will see if he will speak to you." 
 
 Shock waited till Smiley opened the door, where- 
 upon, stepping quickly forward, he set his foot 
 against the lower panel, and pushed the door wide 
 open. 
 
 In a small room, bare of furniture except for 
 tables and chairs and a hanging lamp, sat four men, 
 of whom Shock recognised two. The Kid was one, 
 and Macfarren the other. Across the table from 
 these sat two men, one by his uniform the Inspector 
 of the Mounted Police. The face of the other had to 
 Shock a familiar look, but where he had seen him he 
 could not remember. 
 
 As Shock opened the door the man in uniform 
 started up with an oath, and Macfarren blew out the 
 light. 
 
 "What's that for, Macfarren?" said The Kid. 
 
 "Shut up, you fool," growled Macfarren. 
 
 "What did you say, sir?" enquired The Kid, in a 
 voice somewhat thick and unsteady. 
 
 "Get him out of here," said Macfarren, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " I want to have a few words with Mr. Stanton," 
 said Shock, standing in the doorway. 
 
 " Here you are. Fire away," replied the boy. 
 " The light is not good, but I can hear in the dark." 
 
HIS KEEPER 
 
 "You are wanted, Mr. Stanton, very earnestly by 
 a friend of yours." 
 
 "Let him walk right in if he wants me," replied 
 The Kid. 
 
 " That he cannot do. He is very ill." 
 
 "Ah! who is he, may I ask?" enquired Stanton, 
 striking a match. 
 
 It was promptly blown out. 
 
 " I wouldn't do that again," he said gently. " Who 
 is it ? " he repeated, striking another match and light- 
 ing the lamp. 
 
 " It is Ike," said Shock. " He is very ill dying, 
 for all I know, and he wants you." 
 
 For answer there was a contemptuous laugh from 
 the Mounted Policeman, in which Macfarren joined. 
 
 " Rather good that," said Macfarren. 
 
 "Excuse me, gentlemen," said the boy, making a 
 strenuous effort to pull himself together. " I hate to 
 leave this good company, but I must go. I happen 
 to pay Ike wages, but he is my friend. He has asked 
 for me, and I am going to him." 
 
 "Oh, blank it all! Don't be a fool," said the 
 policeman. "Ike's all right. He has been taking 
 an extra drink, but you can't kill Ike. Wait for 
 half an hour, and we'll go down and see how he is." 
 
 The young lad hesitated. The stranger made a 
 signal to Smiley, and suddenly Shock found himself 
 pushed backward from the entrance, and the door 
 slammed in his face. 
 
 " Open that door ! " he heard The Kid cry. 
 
 There was a murmur in response. 
 
204 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "Open it, I say, Simmons." 
 
 Again a murmur. 
 
 "No, I am going. I will go myself. Ike wants 
 me." The boy's voice was loud and hard. 
 
 "That's mine," the voice cried again. "Let that 
 go at once!" 
 
 There was a sound of scuffling and of falling 
 chairs. With a kick Shock sent the door flying open, 
 and saw three men struggling with Stanton. Smiley 
 had wound his long arms about him from behind, 
 the Inspector held his arm in a firm grip with one 
 hand and with the other had hold of the stranger, who 
 had The Kid by the throat. Macfarren was still at 
 the table, evidently gathering up what lay upon it. 
 
 In an instant Shock sprang into the fray. With 
 a single jerk he tore Smiley from his victim and flung 
 him on the floor. Reaching for the stranger, who was 
 choking The Kid, he caught his wrist and gave it a 
 slight turn. With a yell of pain the stranger turned 
 upon him and aimed a blow at Shock's face. Catch- 
 ing the blow on his arm, Shock seized his assailant 
 by the shoulder, j erked him clear of his feet, and flung 
 him far into the corner of the room. At this the 
 policeman immediately gave back. 
 
 For a few seconds The Kid stood swaying un- 
 steadily. Then, after he recovered his breath he 
 turned to Shock and said, " I hardly expected to ever 
 feel grateful to you, but I assure you I appreciate 
 your timely help." 
 
 Then turning to the others, and regaining his 
 wonted smile and easy manner, he continued, 
 
HIS KEEPER 205 
 
 " Gentlemen, you are somewhat insistent in your 
 hospitality. It is always instructive, and sometimes 
 pleasant, to extend our knowledge of our friends, and 
 now let me say that a more blackguardly lot of 
 thieves I have never met, and if this gentleman who 
 has dropped in so opportunely will kindly stand at 
 my back for a few minutes, I shall be delighted to 
 make good my words by slapping your faces." The 
 Kid's tone was low and gentle, even sweet. 
 
 "Mr. Macfarren, your venerable beard prevents 
 me. Simmons, your general sliminess protects you, 
 but as for you, Inspector Haynes, it gives me great 
 pleasure to express my opinion of you thus ! " 
 His open hand flashed out as he spoke and caught 
 Haynes on the cheek a stinging blow. 
 
 With an oath the Inspector jerked out his pistol 
 and sprang at him. " I arrest you, sir, in the name 
 of the Queen. Move your hand and you are a dead 
 man." 
 
 " So be you, Mr. Inspector," drawled a quiet voice 
 in the door. 
 
 Shock turned, and to his unspeakable amazement 
 saw his sick friend standing with his gun covering 
 the Inspector. 
 
 "One step back, please, Mr. Inspector. Qijick! 
 This trigger goes mighty easy. Now, right wheel " 
 The Inspector hesitated a second. "Quick!" >med 
 Ike sharply. "Don't you fool too long obeyin' 
 orders. I aint used to it. I'm here exercisin' a 
 public function, preventin' murder, in short, and I'll 
 drop you in your tracks if you don't move at the next 
 
206 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 word. You here me? And if you don't intend to 
 move at the next word, say your prayers in this in- 
 terval. Now then, back up to that table and put 
 down that gun. Correct. Very nice, indeed." 
 
 Ike's voice took on more and more of its customary 
 drawl. 
 
 " Now, two steps forward. Right. Now, you can 
 go to the devil ! " 
 
 Ike stepped to the table, took up the pistol, and 
 returned to his place at the door, saying: 
 
 " Say, boss, this prayer meetin's over. Let's go 
 home." 
 
 "Not until the Inspector says so," said The Kid, 
 who had recovered himself, and who was now quite 
 sober. " He has the word now, Ikey, so don't inter- 
 fere." 
 
 "All right, Kiddie, play your game. You're 
 equivalent to it, I surmise." 
 
 "I think so," said the Kid sweetly. Then, turn- 
 ing to the Inspector, he continued in a voice of gentle 
 consideration, "There is something on your cheek, 
 Inspector Haynes. You have not observed it. Allow 
 me to point it out to you." 
 
 He moved forward as he spoke, but Shock inter- 
 posed. 
 
 "I think that is enough, Mr. Stanton," he said. 
 " Let the matter drop now." 
 
 The boy turned quickly, and looking steadily into 
 Shock's face, began in a quiet, even voice, "Mr. 
 ah " 
 
 "Macgregor," supplied Shock. 
 
HIS KEEPER 207 
 
 "Mr. Macgregor, you are a stranger. In this 
 country in a matter of this kind we never allow in- 
 terference." 
 
 "And yet," said Shock in a voice equally quiet, 
 "interference is not unwelcome at times." 
 
 "What you say is quite true," replied the boy, 
 "and, as I have said, I am not ungrateful for your 
 timely assistance." 
 
 " Oh, I was thinking of Ike," said Shock hurriedly. 
 " But surely you will let this matter drop now." 
 
 " Drop ! " roared the Inspector. " Blank your 
 impudence! He has called me a thief, and he has 
 slapped my face while doing my duty. I will have 
 the lot of you arrested for interference with jus- 
 tice. And as for you, Stanton, we shall settle this 
 again." 
 
 So saying, the Inspector made for the door. 
 
 At the door Ike still stood on guard. 
 
 "When you want me, Mr. Inspector," he said, 
 " don't have any delinquency in sendin 9 for me. I 
 surmise I can contribute some valuable evidence on 
 the point of guns, games, and such." 
 
 The Inspector glared at him. 
 
 " I'll take my gun," he said. 
 
 "Your gun? Why, cert! Did you drop it some- 
 wheres? Perhaps if you look round when the light's 
 good you'll find it. Slimey, here, will help you. I'm 
 pretty nigh certain you'll extradite that weapon in 
 the morning. Good-night." 
 
 With a curse the Inspector passed out. 
 
 "Now, Ikey," said The Kid coolly, "stand aside, 
 
208 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 for there is a cur here that had the audacity to 
 throttle me." 
 
 With these words he sprang past Shock, seized the 
 stranger by the throat, cuffed him with his open hand, 
 and dragging him to the door sent him forth with 
 a parting kick and an imprecation. 
 
 " Now, Macfarren," he said, turning to that gentle- 
 man, who still sat by the table, " you have some 
 money not belonging to you. Put it on the table." 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation Macfarren hastily 
 poured forth from his pocket poker-chips, gold 
 pieces, and bills. 
 
 " I assure you, Mr. Stanton," he hurried to say, 
 " I was simply holding them till the ah trouble 
 should be over." 
 
 " That was most kind," replied Stanton. " I have 
 no very clear remembrance, but I was under the im- 
 pression that it was your suggestion to lock the door." 
 As he spoke he swept the money into his pocket. 
 
 " Certainly, but my only intention was to keep 
 out ah strangers and intruders. You know, Mr. 
 Stanton, I would be no party to robbery, and, indeed, 
 I do not believe for a moment that any robbery was 
 intended. It was an unfortunate eagerness on the 
 part of Crawley to secure his winnings that precipi- 
 tated the trouble. I really hope you do not think me 
 capable of anything of the sort." 
 
 Macfarren's manner was abject, but his tone was 
 evidently sincere. 
 
 " You were unfortunate in your company, then, 
 Mr. Macfarren. Come on, Ike. We are done with 
 
HIS KEEPER 209 
 
 this gang. Lucky I was not quite slewed, or my 
 creditors would have been in mourning to-morrow. 
 Mr. Macgregor, where do you put up ? " 
 
 " He's with me to-night," said Ike, " and a mighty 
 fortunate circumstance it was for us all. This here 
 business had got beyond my capabilities. Some of us 
 need a keeper." 
 
 " That's me, Ikey. Yes, I know. Rub it in. It's 
 a keeper I need. Well, I give you my word I am done 
 with this gang. Fool ! Fool ! " he continued bit- 
 terly, " a cursed fool, Ikey. Three years of it now." 
 
 " That's what," said Ikey, leading the way down 
 the street. " For the past two years, boss, you know 
 you've beat me. Though I don't hold myself out as 
 no sort of paradox " 
 
 " Paragon, Ikey," said The Kid, with a gentle 
 laugh. He always found his cowboy's English 
 amusing. 
 
 " Paragon, eh? Well, all the same, I aint no 
 sort of paragon, but I know where to stop." 
 
 "Where are we now, Ike? At the end of the 
 rope, eh? " 
 
 "No, by the livin' Gimmini! but gettin* there on 
 the jump," said Ike, with grave emphasis. 
 
 Without further conversation they made their way 
 through the dark streets till they reached Ike's shack. 
 The doctor lay still asleep in the corner. 
 
 "He kidnapped him," was Ike's explanation to 
 The Kid, nodding his head toward Shock. " So I'd 
 advise that you hitch on to the preacher here for a 
 period. Give him the job of windin' you up." 
 
210 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Could you undertake that, do you think ? " There 
 was a curious smile on the boy's face, but an under- 
 tone of seriousness in his voice. 
 
 " No," said Shock gravely, " I could not under- 
 take that." 
 
 " You see, Ike. I am too uncertain. Too far gone, 
 I guess." 
 
 Ike was too puzzled to reply. He had a kind of 
 dim idea that in Shock there was some help for his 
 boss, and he was disappointed at Shock's answer. 
 
 For some time Shock sat in silence, looking at the 
 fire. His heart was sore. He felt his helplessness. 
 This clever, gay-hearted young fellow, with all his 
 gentleness of manner, was unapproachable. He be- 
 longed to another world, and yet Shock yearned over 
 him with a tenderness inexplicable to himself. The 
 Kid gave him no opening. There was a kind of gay 
 defiance in his bearing, as if he had read Shock's heart 
 and were determined to keep him at arm's length. In- 
 stinctively Shock knew that he must wait his oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 "Well, guess we'd better turn in," suggested Ike. 
 " Can you two bunk together? That bed'Il hold you 
 both, I guess." 
 
 "No, thanks," said Shock decidedly. "That is 
 your bed. I'll spread my blankets on the floor." 
 
 " In this country," said Stanton, " we give the 
 stranger the bed, so you need not scruple to turn Ike 
 out of his. Ike and I will take the floor." 
 
 " Not this time," said Shock firmly. " I am thank- 
 ful enough for shelter, without taking a man's bed. 
 
HIS KEEPER 211 
 
 Besides," he added, suddenly remembering, " Ike 
 needs his bed to-night, after his sick turn." 
 
 " Yes, by Jove ! By the way," exclaimed Stanton, 
 " what happened, Ike ? " 
 
 " A sudden and unexpected predisposition which 
 takes me now and then," turning his back upon Shock 
 and solemnly winking at The Kid ; " but I recover just 
 as quickly, and when I do I'm as slick as ever, and 
 slicker. These here turns work off a lot of bad blood, 
 I guess." 
 
 During his speech he continued winking at The 
 Kid. That young gentleman gazed at him in amazed 
 silence. Gradually, a light broke in upon him. 
 
 " Look here, Ike, what in thunder do you mean ? " 
 
 " I say, boss," said Ike persuasively, " just go easy. 
 You oughn't to excite yourself. 'Taint good for you, 
 and 'taint good for me, either. My doctor says so. 
 I wouldn't persecute your enquiries at this late hour 
 of the night." 
 
 Ike's gravity was imperturbable. 
 
 " Well, I be blanked ! I beg your pardon, Mr. Mac- 
 gregor. Ike, you're a cool one. You've got the nerve 
 
 of " Here The Kid began to laugh, and Shock, 
 
 all unsuspecting of Ike's scheme for getting his boss 
 out of the clutches of his spoilers, gazed from the one 
 to the other with an air of such absolute perplexity 
 that The Kid went off into immoderate fits of laugh- 
 ter. Ike's gravity remained unbroken. 
 
 "All the same, boss," he said, " you want to keep 
 an eye on that outfit. They'll get even. That man 
 Crawley and the Inspector aint goin' to rest easy 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 where they are. Marks like what you put on 'em burn 
 to the bone." 
 
 " They cannot hurt me, Ike," said the Kid lightly, 
 " and I think they will be afraid to try. But Mr. 
 Macgregor here has got into trouble. Is not Mac- 
 farren a church warden, or something, in your 
 Church?" 
 
 " He is a manager, I think," said Shock. " Pretty 
 much the same thing." 
 
 " Well, he is a man to look out for. I can get along 
 without him, but you cannot, can you? I mean, he 
 can hurt you." 
 
 " No," said Shock quietly, " he cannot hurt me. 
 The only man that can hurt me is myself. No other 
 man can. And besides," he added, pulling a little 
 Bible out of his pocket, " I have a Keeper, as Ike 
 said." 
 
 As Shock opened the little Bible he became con- 
 scious of a sense of mastery. His opportunity had 
 come. 
 
 " Listen to this," he said, and he read in a voice of 
 assured conviction: 
 
 " The Lord is thy keeper. 
 The Lord shall keep thee from all evil. 
 He shall keep thy soul. 
 
 The Lord shall keep thy going out and thy coining in. 
 From this time forth and forevermore. " 
 
 He closed the book and put it in his pocket. 
 " No," he said, " no man can hurt me." Then 
 turning to Ike he said quietly, " I always say my 
 
HIS KEEPER 
 
 prayers. My mother started me twenty-five years 
 ago, and I have never seen any reason to quit." 
 
 While his tone was gentle and his manner simple, 
 there was almost a challenge in his eyes. The fair 
 face of young Stanton flushed through the tan. 
 
 "You do your mother honour," he said, with quiet 
 dignity. 
 
 " I say," said Ike slowly, " if you kin do it just as 
 convenient, perhaps you'd say 'em out. Wouldn't 
 do us no harm, eh, Kiddie? " 
 
 No, I should be pleased." 
 
 " Thank you," said Shock. Then for a moment 
 he stood looking first at Ike's grave face, and then 
 at The Kid, out of whose blue eyes all the gay, reck- 
 less defiance had vanished. 
 
 " Don't imagine I think myself a bit better than 
 you," said Shock hastily, voice and lip quivering. 
 
 "Oh, git out!" ejaculated Ike quickly. "That 
 aint sense." 
 
 " But," continued Shock, " perhaps I have had a 
 little better chance. Certainly I have had a good 
 mother." 
 
 " And I, too," said the boy, in a husky voice. 
 
 So the three kneeled together in Ike's shack, each 
 wondering how it had come about that it should seem 
 so natural and easy for him to be in that attitude. 
 
 In a voice steady and controlled Shock made his 
 prayer. Humility and gratitude for all that had 
 been done for him in his life, an overwhelming sense 
 of need for the life demanded in this God-forgetting 
 country, and a great love and compassion for the two> 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 men with whom he had so strangely been brought into 
 such close relation swelled in his heart and vibrated 
 through his prayer. 
 
 Ike's face never lost its impassive gravity. What- 
 ever may have been his feelings, he gave no sign of 
 emotion. But the lad that kneeled on the other side 
 of Shock pressed his face down hard into his hands, 
 while his frame shook with choking, silent sobs. All 
 that was holiest and tenderest in his past came crowd- 
 ing in upon him, in sad and terrible contrast to his 
 present. 
 
 Immediately after the prayer Shock slipped out of 
 the shack. 
 
 " I say, boss," said Ike, as he poked the fire, " he's 
 a winner, aint he? Guess he hits the sky all right, 
 when he gets onto his knees. By the livin' Gimmini ! 
 when that feller gits a-goin' he raises considerable of 
 a promotion." 
 
 " Commotion, Ikey," said The Kid gently. " Yes, 
 I believe he hits the sky and he says he needs a 
 Keeper." 
 
 " Well," said Ike solemnly, " I have a lingerin* 
 suspicion that you're correct, but if he needs a Keeper, 
 what about us ? " 
 
XIII 
 
 THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, 
 LONDON 
 
 DEI. BURTON was never quite clear as to 
 how he had found himself in the early 
 morning on the Loon Lake trail, with a 
 man whom he had never seen before, nor 
 how, after he had discovered himself in that position, 
 he had been persuaded to continue his journey, much 
 less to take up with such enthusiasm the treatment of 
 the cases to which he had been summoned by that 
 same stranger. Indeed, he did not come to a clear 
 consciousness of his sayings and doings until he found 
 himself seated at a most comfortable breakfast in the 
 house of the Old Prospector, with this same strange 
 gentleman sitting opposite him. Even then, before 
 reaching a solution of the problem as to how he had 
 arrived at that particular place and in that particu- 
 lar company, to his amazement he found himself in- 
 terested in the discussion of the cases on hand. 
 
 With the Old Prospector he had little difficulty. 
 Inflammatory rheumatism, with a complication of 
 pneumonia ; in itself not necessarily fatal, or even dan- 
 gerous, but with a man of the Old Prospector's age 
 and habits of life this complication might any mo- 
 ment become serious. He left some medicine, ordered 
 
 215 
 
216 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 nourishing food, perfect rest and quiet, and was 
 about to depart. 
 
 "How soon shall I be up, doctor?" enquired the 
 Old Prospector. 
 
 " I wouldn't worry." 
 
 "A week?" 
 
 " A week ! If you are on your legs in a month you 
 may be thankful." 
 
 "Doctor," said the Old Prospector in a tone of 
 quiet resolution, " it is vitally important that I should 
 be on my journey sooner than a month. My business 
 admits of no delay." 
 
 " Well," said the doctor in his courteous, gentle 
 tone, " if you move you will likely die." 
 
 " I shall certainly die if I do not." 
 
 For once the Old Prospector broke through his 
 wonted philosophic calm. His voice trembled, and 
 his eyes glittered in his excitement. 
 
 "Well, well," said the doctor soothingly, noting 
 these symptoms, " wait a week or so. Follow the di- 
 rections carefully, and we shall see." 
 
 "I shall wait a week, doctor, but no longer. In 
 ten days I shall be on the trail." 
 
 "Well, well," repeated the doctor, looking keenly 
 into the old man's face, " we won't worry about it for 
 a week." 
 
 " No ; for a week I am content." 
 
 Leaving the Old Prospector's shack Shock con- 
 ducted the doctor to the little room at the back of the 
 Stopping Place where little Patsy lay. At the door 
 'they were met by the mother, vociferous with lamen- 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 217 
 
 tations, prayers, blessings, and entreaties. Within 
 the room, seated beside the bed, was Carroll, gloomy 
 and taciturn. 
 
 The doctor drew back the blind and let in the morn- 
 ing light. It showed poor little Patsy, pale and 
 wasted, his angelic face surrounded with a golden 
 aureole of yellow curls that floated across the white 
 pillow. The doctor was startled and moved. 
 
 " What is this? " he cried. " What is the matter? " 
 
 " Just an accident, doctor," said Mrs. Carroll 
 volubly. " It was a blow he got." 
 
 " I struck him wid a chair," said Carroll bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "Whisht, now, darlin'. You're not to be blamin' 
 yourself at all, at all. Sure, you didn't mane to do 
 it. And what's a bit of discoosion between men? 
 The little Patsy, the brave little heart that he is, run 
 in to help his dad, so he did ! " And Mrs. Carroll con- 
 tinued with a description which became more and 
 more incoherent and more and more broken with sobs 
 and tears. 
 
 " It's a wonder he didn't kill him," said the doctor. 
 
 " Arrah, ye may say it. But they do be tellin' me 
 that his riverence there bey ant, he stood in under the 
 blow. God bless his sowl! It's a hairo he is a 
 hairo!" 
 
 She ran toward Shock as if to embrace him, but 
 Shock, who had come to know her ways, avoided her, 
 dodging behind the doctor. 
 
 " Not at all," he said. " Any man would have 
 done the same." 
 
218 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Now, God pardon your riverence for the lie ye've 
 told." 
 
 " But how did you get into the row ? " asked the 
 doctor, turning to Shock. 
 
 " And ye may ask," interrupted Mrs. Carroll. 
 " It's all av that squirmin' little worm of a French- 
 man. May the divil fly away wid him! I'm not 
 sayin' but Carroll there is quick with his tongue, and 
 betimes with his hands, too the high spirit that he 
 has! but sure, it's a tinder heart he carries inside av 
 him if they'd lave him be." 
 
 Meantime the doctor had been proceeding with his 
 examination. 
 
 " He has lain a week like this, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, a week, with never a move till him, and niver 
 a look out av his lovely eyes." 
 
 " But he takes his nourishment, does he ? " 
 
 " Yes, once in a while a cup of milk with a wee drap 
 av whisky intill it, doctor." 
 
 The doctor nodded. 
 
 "Won't hurt him. Not too much, mind. A tea- 
 spoonful in a large cup." 
 
 The doctor stood for some moments after he had 
 finished his examination, looking down upon the little 
 white face, so wasted, so beautiful. Then he shook 
 his head sorrowfully. 
 
 " Ah, doctor, darlin' I " burst out Mrs. Carroll. 
 " Don't say the wurrd ! Don't say the wurrd ! " 
 
 At this Carroll lifted his head and enquired briefly, 
 " Will he get better, doctor? " 
 
 " He has a chance. He has a slight chance." 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 219 
 
 And with a look at Shock he left the room. After 
 speaking a few words of comfort and hope to the 
 mother Shock followed the doctor from the house. 
 
 " It is a f case for trephining, I fear," said the doc- 
 tor. " A clear case. It is the only chance he has, 
 and it ought to be done at once." 
 
 " You mean to-day? " asked Shock. 
 
 "Yes, to-day. But " The doctor hesitated. 
 
 " I am not ready." 
 
 "I could get your instruments and anything else 
 you might order," said Shock eagerly. 
 
 " No, it is not that," said the doctor. " The truth 
 is, I have not the nerve. Nice confession to make, 
 isn't it? Look at that hand." 
 
 He held out his hand as he spoke, and Shock saw 
 that not only the hand, but the whole arm, indeed 
 the whole gaunt frame of the doctor, was all in a 
 tremble. Shock's experience in the city wards made 
 him realise something of the shame and humiliation 
 of the moment to the doctor. He hastened to turn 
 his attention in a happier direction. 
 
 "You have performed this operation before?" 
 
 " Yes, frequently in the old country, once or twice 
 here. I have seen some practice, sir," said the doc- 
 tor, straightening himself up. " But there it is," 
 holding out again his shaking hand. 
 
 "Well," said Shock, "we must wait tilltill 
 everything is ready." 
 
 " Yes," said the doctor. " Not before three days 
 would I dare to touch a knife. In three days, sir, I 
 jshall return, bringing all the appliances necessary, 
 
220 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 and in the interval the time will not be entirely lost. 
 We shall take every means to tone the boy up. By 
 the way, I suppose there is someone in the village 
 with sufficient nerve to render assistance ? " 
 
 "I do not know. There is only one man in this 
 country whom I can think of as being reliable for 
 an affair of this kind. Do you happen to know of 
 the cowboy, Ike?" 
 
 " The very man," said the doctor. rt He lives on 
 the Stanton ranch between this and the fort. We can 
 see him on our way." 
 
 Before the doctor left for home he had called to 
 prepare the Carrolls for the operation. At first Tim 
 would not hear of it. He fiercely declared that he 
 would kill any man that dared put a knife on his 
 lad. His wife was equally determined that the oper- 
 ation should not take place. 
 
 " Very well," said the doctor, " then your boy will 
 die, and, Carroll, I shall have you arrested for man- 
 slaughter forthwith." 
 
 This aspect of the case made little impression upon 
 Carroll. 
 
 ** If the lad dies,'* he said hoarsely, " divil a care 
 what happens to me. 5 * 
 
 But Mrs. Carrofl became anxiously desirous that 
 the operation should be performed. 
 
 i4 And sure the good God wouldn't be after takin' 
 him from us, for didn't his riverence there put up a 
 prayer that would melt the heart of the angels, and 
 I did promise God meself a rale fast, with niver an 
 egg nor a bit of a fish to my teeth, if he should lave 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 
 
 him wid us. And Carroll, darlin', ye'll not be after 
 breakin' ye're wife's heart, nor makin' her a widow? 
 Just je come on, doctor, and niver a word he'll say 
 till ye." 
 
 And so it came, in three days that the doctor re- 
 turned, clean, steady, and fit for his work, with Ike, 
 Shock, and The Kid on hand as his assistants. 
 
 " I asked the doctor if I might come along," said 
 the latter, explaining his presence, " and though he 
 did not encourage me, here I am." 
 
 " We will make him nurse or outside guard," said 
 Shock. "We will give him full charge of the 
 family." 
 
 "Yes," replied the doctor, in his gentle, profes- 
 sional voice, "the family. Let them be removed to 
 some distance. The house must be kept entirely 
 quiet, entirely quiet. An interruption might be se- 
 rious. Mr. and Mrs. Carroll and the children had 
 better be taken away to some remote distance, so that 
 we may have in the house perfect peace- perfect 
 peace." 
 
 But in Carroll they met an unexpected difficulty. 
 
 " Not a fut of me will I lave," he announced, and 
 from this position was immovable. 
 
 "Let us say no more at present," said the doctor 
 quietly to his assistants. " There are various methods 
 of removing an obstruction. I have found various 
 methods." 
 
 And so The Kid, with Mrs. Carroll, Tim, Nora, 
 Eileen, Jimmie, and little Michael, set off for Jumping 
 Rock at the lake. After the procession had formed, 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 however, another difficulty arose. Michael refused 
 point blank to go, and on being urged threw himself 
 down upon the ground and kicked and yelled 
 vociferously. 
 
 " Indade, there's no use of tryin' to make him do 
 what he don't want," said his mother, with a convic- 
 tion born of long experience of Michael's tempers 
 and ways. 
 
 The procession halted, The Kid looking helpless and 
 foolish. In vain he offered his watch, his pistol with 
 the charge drawn. All his possessions availed not 
 at all. 
 
 In his desperation he was on the point of proceeding 
 to extreme measures when a voice, singularly sweet 
 and musical, sounded behind him. 
 
 " Perhaps I can help," it said. 
 
 The Kid swung round, hat in hand. It was Ma- 
 rion, the Old Prospector's daughter. 
 
 "I shall be profoundly thankful. And for that 
 matter doubtless he will, too, for I had come to the 
 conclusion that the situation demanded a change of 
 tactics." 
 
 The girl sat down beside Michael, and lifting him 
 to her knee began to beguile him from his present 
 misery with promises of songs, and snatches of tales, 
 whose powers of enchantment had evidently been 
 proved in similar circumstances, ti-ll finally his inter- 
 est was diverted, his curiosity excited, and at length 
 Michael was persuaded to join the company with 
 smiling expectation of good things to come. 
 
 " I wish you would confide to me the secret of your 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 
 
 power, Miss " said The Kid, with a most cour- 
 teous bow. 
 
 " I am Marion Mowbray," she said simply. 
 
 " Miss Mowbray," continued The Kid, " I know 
 your father very well, and" looking into the girl's 
 eyes, so very piercing and so very black " I should 
 like to know his daughter, too." 
 
 But Marion devoted herself chiefly to Michael, giv- 
 ing such attention as she could to the older and more 
 active and more venturous Eileen and Jimmie, and 
 The Kid found his duties to Mrs. Carroll, Tim, and 
 Nora so engrossing that he had little time to bestow 
 any further attention upon the girl. 
 
 While Marion with tales and songs held the 
 younger portion in an enthralled circle about her 
 upon the Jumping Rock, The Kid upon the lake shore 
 below was using his most strenuous endeavours to make 
 the hour pass happily for Mrs. Carroll, Tim, and 
 Nora. 
 
 Meantime, in the back room of the Stopping-Place 
 Dr. Burton was making his preparations for a very 
 critical operation. All his movements were marked 
 by a swift dexterity and an attention to detail that 
 gave Shock the impression that here was a man not 
 only a master of his art, but, for the time being at 
 least, master of himself. He laid out and thoroughly 
 disinfected his instruments, prepared his lint, band- 
 ages, sponges, and explained clearly to each of 
 his two assistants the part he was to take. Shock, 
 who had had some slight experience in the surgical 
 operations attendant upon an active football career, 
 
224 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 was to be the assistant in chief, being expected to 
 take charge of the instruments, and to take part, if 
 necessary, in the actual operation. Ike was in- 
 structed to be in readiness with a basin, sponge, and 
 anything else that might be demanded. 
 
 " We shall not give you much to do," said the doc- 
 tor, " but what you have to do must be done promptly 
 and well. Now, then," he continued, lifting his 
 scissors with a flourish which did not fail to impress 
 Carroll, who was seated near by, " we shall proceed." 
 
 " Will it hurt, doctor ? " groaned Carroll, gazing 
 upon the row of instruments with fascinated eyes. 
 
 " Before we are finished it is quite possible the pa- 
 tient may be conscious of nervous disturbance, accom- 
 panied by sensations more or less painful." 
 
 "Will it hurt, blank you!" replied Carroll, whose 
 hoarse voice showed the intensity of his repressed 
 emotion. 
 
 "As I was saying," said the doctor in his calm, 
 even tone, and examining his instruments one by one 
 with affectionate care, " there is every possibility that 
 the nerve centres may be " 
 
 "Oh," groaned Carroll, still fascinated by the in- 
 struments that the doctor was handling with such 
 loving touches, " will someone shut up this blank, 
 blatherin' fool? He'd drive a man crazy, so he 
 wud!" 
 
 "Mr. Carroll, we must be calm. We must be en- 
 tirely calm," observed the doctor. " Now," continu- 
 ing his monologue, "we shall remove the hair from 
 the field of operation. Cleanliness in an operation of 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 225 
 
 this kind is of prime importance. Recent scientific 
 investigations show that the chief danger in oper- 
 ations is from septic poisoning. Yes, every precau- 
 tion must be taken. Then we shall bathe with this 
 weak solution of carbolic three per cent, will be 
 quite sufficient, quite sufficient the injured parts and 
 the surrounding area, and then we shall examine the 
 extent of the wound. If the dura mater be pene- 
 trated, and the arachnoid cavity be opened, then there 
 will be in all probability a very considerable extrav- 
 asation of blood, and by this time, doubtless, serious 
 inflammation of all the surrounding tissues. The 
 aperture being very small and the depression some- 
 what extensive, it will be necessary to remove to saw 
 out, in short a portion of the skull," lifting up a 
 fierce-looking instrument. 
 
 Carroll groaned. 
 
 "Let me out!" he whispered hoarsely, rising and 
 feeling his way with outstretched hand to the door. 
 " I can't stand this bloody divil ! " 
 
 Ike opened the door, while Shock sprang to support 
 the groping man. 
 
 " Lave me be ! " he said fiercely, with a curse, and 
 pushing Shock back he stumbled out. 
 
 " Ah," said the doctor, with evident satisfaction, 
 " there are various methods of removing obstructions, 
 as I have said. We shall now no longer delay." And 
 he proceeded to clip away the golden curls from 
 about the wound. "These," he said, holding them 
 up in his fingers and looking at them admiringly, 
 " we had better preserve. These beautiful locks may 
 
226 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 be priceless to the mother, priceless indeed. Poor, 
 bonnie laddie! Now we shall prepare, we shall asep- 
 ticallj prepare, the whole field of operation. A 
 sponge that's it. That will do. Now, let us ex- 
 amine the extent of the injury," feeling with dex- 
 trous fingers about the edge of the slight wound, and 
 over all the depressed surface. 
 
 "Ah! as I feared. The internal table is widely 
 comminuted, and there is possibly injury to the dura 
 mater. We must excise a small portion of the bone. 
 The scalpel, please." Then, after laying back with 
 a few swift, dexterous movements the scalp from 
 about the wounded parts : " The saw. Yes, the saw. 
 The removal of a section," he continued, in his gentle 
 monotone, beginning to saw, " will allow examination 
 of the internal table. A sponge, please. Thank 
 you. And if the dura mater " Here the still- 
 ness of the room was broken by a sound from Ike. 
 The doctor glanced at him. 
 
 " This is a very simple part of the operation," he 
 explained, " a very simple part, indeed, and attended 
 with absolutely no pain. A sponge, please. Thank 
 you. Now the forceps. Yes." 
 
 He snipped off a section of the bone. Ike winced. 
 
 "Ah, as I feared. There is considerable com- 
 minution and extravasation. Yes, and owing to the 
 long delay, and doubtless to the wet applications 
 which the uninitiated invariably apply, pus. Now, 
 the carbolic solution," to Ike, who was standing with 
 white face and set teeth. 
 
 " You are doing remarkably well," said the doc- 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 
 
 tor encouragingly to him, " remarkably well. To a 
 novice this at times presents a shocking aspect. Now 
 we shall attack this depression. The elevator, please. 
 No, the elevator, Mr. Macgregor. There it lies. 
 Yes. Now gently, gently. Just hold that in posi- 
 tion," offering Shock the end of the instrument which 
 he was using as a lever to raise the depressed portion 
 of the skull. "The other scalpel, please. Now, a 
 slight pressure. Gently, gently. We must be ex- 
 tremely careful of the edges. No, that will not do. 
 Then we must have recourse to the trephine." 
 
 He lifted the instrument as he spoke, and gazed at 
 it with every mark of affection. 
 
 " This is one of the most beautiful of all the in- 
 struments of modern surgery. A lovely instrument, 
 a lovely instrument, indeed. Let us secure our firm 
 surface. That seems satisfactory," beginning to 
 bore. 
 
 This was too much for Ike. He hastily set down 
 the basin and sponge on a chair, then straightened 
 up in a vain effort to regain mastery of himself. 
 
 "Ah," said the doctor. "Poor Ike! The spirit 
 is willing, but the sympathetic nerve is evidently se- 
 riously disturbed, thereby affecting the vasomotor, 
 and will likely produce complete syncope. Lay him 
 down on his back immediately." 
 
 " No," said Ike, " I aint no good. I'm going 
 out." 
 
 " Now," said the doctor calmly, when Shock and 
 he had been left alone, " I hope there will be no more 
 interruption. We must proceed with the trephining. 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Ah, beautiful, beautiful!" his quick moving, deft 
 fingers keeping pace with his monologue. 
 
 " There now," after a few minutes' work with the 
 trephine, "the depression is lifted. We shall soon 
 be finished." 
 
 With supple, firm fingers he sewed the scalp, 
 dressed the wound, and was done. 
 
 "Thank God!" said Shock, with a long breath. 
 "Will he live?" 
 
 " It is a question now of strength and vitality. If 
 the inflammation is not too widely extended the child 
 may recover. Young life is very tenacious." 
 
 The doctor washed his hands, wiped his instru- 
 ments, put them carefully away in their case, and sat 
 down. 
 
 " Doctor," said Shock, " that is a great work. 
 Even to a layman that operation seems wonderful." 
 
 Under the stimulus of his professional work the 
 doctor's face, which but two days before had been 
 soft and flabby, seemed to have taken on a firmer, 
 harder appearance, and his whole manner, which had 
 been shuffling and slovenly, had become alert and self- 
 reliant. 
 
 "A man who can do that, doctor, can do great 
 things." 
 
 A shadow fell on his face. The look of keen in- 
 telligence became clouded. His very frame lost its 
 erect poise, and seemed to fall together. His profes- 
 sional air of jaunty cheerfulness forsook him. He 
 huddled himself down into his chair, put his face in 
 his hands, and shuddered. 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 
 
 " My dear sir," he said, lifting up his face, " it is 
 quite useless, quite hopeless." 
 
 "No," said Shock eagerly, "do not say that. 
 Surely the Almighty God " 
 
 The doctor put up his hand. 
 
 "I know all you would say. How often have I 
 heard it! The fault is not with the Almighty, but 
 with myself. I am still honest with myself, and 
 
 yet " Here he paused for some moments. "I 
 
 have tried and I have failed. I am a wreck. I 
 have prayed prayed with tears and groans. I have 
 done my best. But I am beyond help." 
 
 For a full minute Shock stood, gazing sadly at the 
 noble head, the face so marred, the huddling form. 
 He knew something of the agony of remorse, humilia- 
 tion, fear, and despair that the man was suffering. 
 
 "Dr. Burton," said Shock, with the air of a man 
 who has formed a purpose, " you are not telling the 
 truth, sir." 
 
 The doctor looked up with a flash of indignation 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " You are misrepresenting facts in two important 
 particulars. You have just said that you have done 
 your best, and that you are beyond all help. The 
 simple truth is you have neither done your best, nor 
 are you beyond help." 
 
 " Beyond help ! " cried the doctor, starting up and 
 beginning to pace the floor, casting aside his usual 
 gentle manner. " You use plain speech, sir, but your 
 evident sincerity forbids resentment. If you knew 
 my history you would agree with me that I state the 
 
230 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 simple truth when I declare that I am beyond help. 
 You see before you, sir, the sometime President of 
 the Faculty of Guy's, London, a man with a reputa- 
 tion second to none in the Metropolis. But neither 
 reputation, nor fortune, nor friends could avail to 
 save me from this curse. I came to this country in 
 desperation. It was a prohibition country. Cursed 
 be those who perpetrated that fraud upon the British 
 public! If London be bad, this country, with its 
 isolation, its monotony of life, and this damnable per- 
 mit system, is a thousand times worse. God pity the 
 fool who leaves England in the hope of recovering 
 his manhood and freedom here. I came to this God- 
 forsaken, homeless country with some hope, of recov- 
 ery in my heart. That hope has long since vanished. 
 I am now beyond all help." 
 
 " No," said Shock in a quiet ? firm voice, " you have 
 told me nothing to prove that you are beyond help. 
 In fact," he continued almost brusquely, " no man of 
 sense and honesty has a right to say that. Yes," he 
 continued, in answer to the doctor's astonished look, 
 " salvation, as it is called, is a matter of common 
 sense and honesty." 
 
 " I thought you clergymen preached salvation to 
 be a matter of faith." 
 
 " Faith, yes. That is the same thing. Common 
 sense, I call it. A man is a fool to think he is beyond 
 help while he has life. A little common sense and 
 honesty is all you want. Now, let us find Carroll. 
 But, doctor, let my last word to you be this do not 
 ever say or think what you have said to me to-day* 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 
 
 It simply is not true. And I repeat, the man who 
 can do that sort of thing," pointing to the child 
 lying on the bed, " can do a great deal more. Good 
 things are waiting you." 
 
 "Oh, Lord God Almighty!" said the doctor, 
 throwing up his hands in the intensity of his emotion. 
 " You almost make me think there is some hope." 
 
 " Don't be a fool, doctor," said Shock in a matter 
 of fact voice. " You are going to recover your man- 
 hood and your reputation. I know it. But as I said 
 before, remember I expect common sense and 
 honesty." 
 
 " Common sense and honesty," said the doctor as 
 if to himself. " No religion." 
 
 " There you are," said Shock. " I did not say 
 that. I did say common sense and honesty. But 
 now, do go and find poor Carroll. He will be in 
 agony." 
 
 " Oh, a little of it won't hurt him. He is rather 
 an undeveloped specimen," said the doctor, resuming 
 his professional tone. 
 
 In a few minutes he returned with Carroll, whose 
 face was contorted with his efforts to seem calm. 
 
 " Tell me," he said to Shock. " Will the lad live? " 
 
 " The operation is entirely; successful, thanks to the 
 skill of Dr. Burton there." 
 
 "Will he live?" said Carroll to the doctor in a 
 husky tone. 
 
 "Well, he has a chance a chance now which be- 
 fore he had not; and if he does ? you owe it to Mr, 
 Macgregor there." 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " And if he doesn't, I shall owe that to him," hissed 
 Carroll through his clenched teeth. 
 
 For this Shock hard no reply. 
 
 " I shall go for Mrs. Carroll and the children now," 
 he said quietly, and passed out of the room. 
 
 " Carroll," said the doctor with stern deliberation, 
 " I have always known you to be a bully, but never 
 before that you were a brute. This man saved your 
 child's life at very considerable danger to his own. 
 And a second time if the child recovers he has saved 
 his life, for had the operation not been performed to- 
 day your child would have died, and you would have 
 been arrested for manslaughter." 
 
 " Doctor," said Carroll, turning upon him, and 
 standing nervous and shaking, " it is that man or 
 me. The country won't hold us both." 
 
 " Then, Carroll, let me tell you, you had better 
 move out, for that man won't move till he wants to. 
 Why, bless my soul, man, he could grind you up in 
 his hands. And as for nerve well, I have seen some 
 in my professional career, but never such as his. My 
 advice to you is, do not trifle with him." 
 
 " Blank his sowl ! I'll be even wid him," said Car- 
 roll, pouring out a stream of oaths. 
 
 " Dad." The weak voice seemed to pierce through 
 Carroll's curses like a shaft of light through a dark 
 room. 
 
 Carroll dropped on his knees by the bedside in a 
 rush of tears. 
 
 "Ah, Patsy, my Patsy! Is it your own voice I'm 
 hearin'?" 
 
THE PRESIDENT OF GUY'S, LONDON 233 
 
 " Dad, darlin', ye didn't mane it, did ye, dad? " 
 
 "What, Patsy?" 
 
 " To hit me." 
 
 "Ah, may God forgive me! but it's meself would 
 sooner die than strike ye." 
 
 The little lad drew a deep breath of content. 
 
 " And the big man," he said. " He put out his 
 hand over me. Ye didn't hurt him, dad, did ye ? " 
 
 " No, no, Patsy, darlin'," said the big Irishman, 
 burying his face in the pillow. " Speak to your dad 
 again wid your lovely voice." 
 
 " Now, Carroll," said the doctor in a stern whisper. 
 " That is enough. Not a word more. Do you want 
 to kill your child?" 
 
 Carroll at once with a tremendous effort grew 
 still, stroking the white hand he held in his, and kiss- 
 ing the golden curls that streamed across the pillow, 
 whispering over and over, " Patsy, darlin' ! " till the 
 doctor, hardened as he was to scenes like this, was 
 forced to steal , out from the room and leave them 
 together. 
 
XIV. 
 
 THE OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 
 
 FOR six weeks the Old Prospector lay fretting 
 his life away in his shack, not so ill as 
 to be in danger. The pneumonia had al- 
 most disappeared and the rheumatism had 
 subsided, but yet such grave symptoms remained as 
 made the doctor forbid his setting forth upon his 
 annual quest of the Lost River. In these days his 
 chief comfort was Shock, whose old habit of sharing 
 his experiences in imagination with those who could 
 not share them in reality, relieved for the Old Pros- 
 pector many a monotonous hour. 
 
 But Shock's days, and most of his nights, even, 
 were spent upon the trail rounding up " strays and 
 mavericks," as Ike said, searching out the lonely 
 bachelor shacks, and lonelier homes where women dwelt 
 whose husbands' days were spent on the range, and 
 whose nearest neighbour might be eight or ten miles 
 away, bringing a touch of the outer world, and leav- 
 ing a gleam of the light that he carried in his own 
 sunny, honest face. 
 
 And so Shock soon came to know more of the far 
 back settlers than did even the oldest timer; and, 
 what was better, he began to establish among them 
 some sort of social life. It was Shock, for instance, 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 
 
 that discovered old Mrs. Hamilton and her two sons, 
 and drove her after much persuasion eight miles over 
 " The Rise," past which she had not set her foot for 
 the nine long, sad years that had dragged out their 
 lonely length since her husband left her alone with 
 her two boys of seven and nine, to visit Mrs. Mac- 
 namara, the delicate wife of the rollicking Irish 
 rancher, who, seldom out of the saddle himself, had 
 never been able to understand the heart-hunger that 
 only became less as her own life ran low. It was 
 her little family growing up about her, at once drain- 
 ing her vitality but, thank God, nourishing in her 
 heart hope and courage, that preserved for her faith 
 and reason. It was a great day for the Mac- 
 namaras when their big friend drove over their 
 next neighbour, Mrs. Hamilton, to make her first 
 call. 
 
 Another result of Shock's work became apparent 
 in the gradual development of Loon Lake, or " The 
 Lake," as it was most frequently named, into a centre 
 of social life. In the first place a school had been 
 established, in which Marion had been installed as 
 teacher, and once the children came to the village it 
 was easier for the parents to find their way thither. 
 
 Every week, too, The Kid and Ike found occasion 
 to visit The Lake and call for Shock, who made his 
 home, for the most part, with the Old Prospector. 
 Every week, too, the doctor would appear to pay a 
 visit to his patients ; but, indeed, in some way or other 
 the doctor was being constantly employed on cases 
 discovered by Shock. The Macnamara's baby with 
 
236 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 the club-foot. Scrub Kettle's girl with the spinal 
 trouble; Lawrence Delamere, the handsome young 
 English lad up in "The Pass," whose leg, injured in 
 a mine accident, never would heal till the doctor had 
 scraped the bone these and many others owed their 
 soundness to Shock's prospecting powers and to the 
 doctor's skill. And so many a mile they drove to- 
 gether to their mutual good. For, while the doctor 
 prosecuted with delight and diligence his healing art, 
 all unconsciously he himself was regaining something 
 of his freedom and manhood. 
 
 "Digs 'em up, don't he?" said Ike one Sunday, 
 when the second flat of Jim Ross's store was filled 
 with men and women who, though they had lived in 
 the country for from two to twenty years, were still 
 for the most part strangers to each other. "Digs 
 *em up like the boys dig the badgers. Got to come 
 out of their holes when he gits after 'em." 
 
 "Dat's so," said Perault, who had become an ar- 
 dent f ollower of Shock's. " Dat's so. All same lak 
 ole boss." 
 
 "Prospector, eh?" said Ike. 
 
 66 Oui. Prospector, sure enough, by gar ! " replied 
 Perault, with the emphasis of a man who has stumbled 
 upon a great find; and the name came at once to be 
 recognised as so eminently suitable that from that 
 time forth it stuck, and all the more that before 
 many weeks there was none to dispute the title with 
 him. 
 
 All this time the Old Prospector fretted and wasted 
 with an inward fever that baffled the doctor's skill, 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 237 
 
 and but for the visits of his friends and their con- 
 stant assurances that next week would see him fit. the 
 old man would have succumbed. 
 
 " It's my opinion," said Ike, who with The Kid had 
 made a habit of dropping in for a visit to the sick 
 man, and then would dispose themselves outside for a 
 smoke, listening the while to the flow of song and 
 story wherewith his daughter would beguile the old 
 man from his weariness ; " it's my opinion that it 
 aint either that rheumatism nor that there pew- 
 monia," Ike had once glanced at the doctor's label 
 which distinguished the pneumonia medicine from 
 that prescribed for rheumatism, " it aint either the 
 rheumatism nor that there pewmonia," he repeated, 
 " that's a-killin' him." 
 
 "What then do you think it is, Ike?" said 
 the doctor, to whom Ike had been confiding this 
 opinion. 
 
 "It's frettin'; frettin 9 after the trail an'd the 
 Lost River. For thirteen years he's chased that river, 
 and he'll die a-chasin' it." 
 
 "Well, he'll certainly die if he starts after it in 
 his present condition." 
 
 " Maybe so, doctor. I wouldn't interdict any opin- 
 ion of yours. But I reckon he'd die a mighty sight 
 easier." 
 
 " Well, Ike, my boy," said the doctor in his gentle 
 voice, " perhaps you are right, perhaps you're right. 
 The suggestion is worth considering." 
 
 And the result seemed to justify Ike's opinion, for 
 from the day that the doctor fixed the time for the 
 
238 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Old Prospector's departure the fever abated, his phil- 
 osophic calm returned, he became daily stronger and 
 daily more cheerful and courageous, and though he 
 was troubled still with a cough he departed one bright 
 day, with Perault, in high spirits. 
 
 " I shall remember you all," he cried, waving his 
 hand gaily in farewell. " Doctor, I shall build you a 
 hospital where your skill will have opportunity and 
 scope. Mr. Macgregor, your heart will be delighted 
 with that church-manse-school building of yours." 
 This was Shock's pet scheme for the present. " To 
 all of you suitable rewards. This time I see success. 
 Farewell." 
 
 After he had turned away he reined back his pony 
 and addressed Shock again. 
 
 " Mr. Macgregor," he said, with almost solemn 
 earnestness, " I give my daughter into your charge. 
 I am sure you will watch over her. She will be com- 
 fortable with Josie, and she will be safe under your 
 care." 
 
 His spirit of enthusiastic confidence caught all the 
 crowd standing by, so that they gave him a hearty 
 cheer in farewell. 
 
 " Did not say what he would give us, eh, Carroll? " 
 said Crawley, who with Carroll stood at the back of 
 the crowd. 
 
 " Blanked old fool ! " growled Carroll. 
 
 " And yet he has a marvellous instinct for mines," 
 said Crawley, "and this time he has got something 
 more than usual in his head, I believe. He has been 
 particularly secretive. I could not get anything out 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 
 
 of him. Guess he means to euchre us out of our share 
 of anything big, partner." 
 
 " Curse him for an owld thief ! " said Carroll. " I'll 
 have it out av his hide, so I will, if he tries that." 
 
 "Then, Carroll, you'll have to do it when his big 
 friend is not round." 
 
 Carroll's answer was a perfect flood of profanity, 
 copious enough to include not only the Old Pros- 
 pector, Shock, all the relatives living and dead, but 
 Crawley, who stood listening with a sarcastic grin on 
 his evil face. 
 
 "Well, well," at last said Crawley soothingly, 
 "your time will come. And, partner, you may de- 
 pend on me when it comes. I owe him something, too, 
 and I would rather pay it than get a mine." 
 
 The days that followed the Old Prospector's de- 
 parture were lonely enough for his daughter. Her 
 father's illness had brought to them both the ines- 
 timable boon of mutual acquaintance and affection. 
 It was the girl's - first experience of having near her 
 one to whom she could freely give the long-hoarded 
 treasures of her love; and now that he was gone she 
 could only wonder how she could have lived so long 
 without him. It was well for her that she had her 
 school, which she transferred now to her father's 
 house, for though Shock occupied the inner room he 
 was very little at home. 
 
 In addition to the school there was Patsy, who, 
 never very strong, had not regained even his puny 
 strength since the operation. Every fine day Marion 
 would take the little lad for a glorious canter up the 
 
240 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 trail that ran along The Lake, but the day was never 
 complete to Patsy unless it included a visit to the 
 Jumping Rock, and there a tale, and at least one 
 song. In these rides Stanton, as often as he visited 
 the village, would join, and then it was the Swallow 
 that the little cripple would ride, holding his reins in 
 cowboy style high in one hand, and swaying with 
 careless security in the saddle, and all the more be- 
 cause of the strong arm about him. 
 
 These were happy days to Patsy, happy to young 
 Stanton, happier than she knew to Marion, and all 
 the happier by contrast to the dark, sad days that 
 followed. 
 
 About three weeks after the Old Prospector's de- 
 parture a half-breed, on a cayuse wet and leg-weary, 
 appeared at the Loon Lake Stopping Place, asking 
 for the preacher. 
 
 "Blanked if I know!" growled Carroll. "Off on 
 some fool hunt or other." 
 
 " Ask Ike there," said Crawley, who was sitting on 
 the stoop. " You belong to his flock, don't you, Ike? 
 Elder, aint you?" 
 
 "His flock?" echoed Ike. "Wouldn't mind if I 
 did. I'd be sure of my company, which I can't al- 
 ways be almost anywhere else. Wantin* the preacher, 
 eh?" turning to the half-breed. 
 
 "Letter from de old man." 
 
 "What old man? Let me see it," said Crawley 
 quickly. " Ah ! ' Rev. Mr. Macgregor, or one of his 
 friends.' Guess this is from the Old Prospector., eh? " 
 
 The half-breed nodded. 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING S41 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Way up in mountain," he said, waving his hand 
 toward the hills. 
 
 "Well, the preacher isn't here. It must be im- 
 portant," continued Crawley. " I suppose I might 
 as well open it, especially as it is likely it will be 
 something about outfit. Eh, Carroll ? " 
 
 He was about to tear the letter open when Ike in- 
 terposed. 
 
 "Hold up, there. It strikes me you're a little 
 rapid in your conclusions. Let's have a look at the 
 letter." 
 
 Crawley very unwillingly gave it up. 
 
 " One of his friends," read Ike, with some difficulty^ 
 " You count yourself in there, do you ? " to Crawley. 
 "You'd be mighty lucky if he agreed with you on 
 that there point. Now I judge this ought to go to 
 the preacher or, if he aint round, to the young lady." 
 
 So saying, Ike, without another glance at the dis- 
 appointed Crawley, strode away with the letter to 
 find Marion. 
 
 He found her busy in the school. She read the 
 letter, looked at Ike with white face and wide-open eyes, 
 read it a second time, and said, " He wants Mr. Mac- 
 gregor, quick and me. He is ill. Oh, Ike!"- she 
 cried suddenly, " he is ill, and Mr. Macgregor is 
 away." 
 
 "Where did he go?" said Ike shortly. 
 
 " I heard him say to Willow Creek, to the Martins. 
 The doctor is with him." 
 
 "The Martins, eh? Why, that's only eight milesj, 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 I reckon. Well, git yourself ready and your horse, 
 I'll be back in an hour and a half." 
 
 He turned away, but after he had gone a few 
 steps he strode back. 
 
 " No use lookin' like that," he said almost gruffly. 
 "We'll git a wagon and bring him home easy. A 
 wagon's easier than ridin', though 'taint likely he's 
 very bad." 
 
 " Bad ! " exclaimed Marion, with a sob. " Oh, Ike* 
 you don't know my father. If he were not bad he 
 would not " Here her voice failed her. 
 
 " Don't you worry, miss. We'll be on the trail in 
 two hours. And look here, we'll want beddin' and lots 
 of things, so hustle." And Ike set off with long strides. 
 " Hustle's the word for her. Got to keep her busy, 
 poor girl ! " he said to himself. " Guess he's a goner. 
 You bet that old chap don't weaken for no belly-ache. 
 He's right bad." 
 
 The only wagon in the place belonged to Carroll. 
 
 "Want your wagon and outfit, Carroll," said Ike 
 briefly. "Old Prospector's pretty bad. Got to get 
 him home." 
 
 Carroll growled a refusal. He had never recov- 
 ered his wonted good nature since his encounter with 
 Shock, and his resentment against the one man 
 seemed to poison his whole nature against all. 
 
 "What!" said Ike, amazed at Carroll's refusal, 
 In that country men in need of anything helped them- 
 selves without reference to the owner. 
 
 "Why, sure, Carroll," interposed Crawley hastily. 
 "You'll let Ike have that wagon. I tell you what, 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 
 
 I'll drive it for him v (Shut up, Carroll!" he said in 
 an aside. " When do you start, Ike? Two hours? 
 I'll be there." 
 
 In an hour and a half, true to his word, Ike was 
 back with Shock and the doctor. Before another 
 half hour had gone past they were all on the trail, 
 Marion riding her pony, Shock and the doctor in 
 the buckboard, and Crawley driving the wagon, in 
 which, besides mattress and bedding, were saddles for 
 use when the trail should forbid wheels. 
 
 After long hesitation Ike decided that he ought 
 not to join the party. 
 
 " That there Crawley," he argued to himself, 
 " aint to be trusted, especially when he's goin' round 
 lookin' like a blank hyena. But I guess I'll have to 
 let him go and git back to the ranch." And so with 
 an uneasy feeling Ike watched them set off. 
 
 Half-way back to the ranch he met his boss. 
 
 " Hello, Ike," saluted The Kid gaily. "You're 
 needing a powder. Off your feed, eh? " 
 
 "Howdy, boss," replied the cowboy gravely. 
 " I'm f eelin' proper enough, but there's others not so 
 frisky." 
 
 "What's up, Ike? Your grandmother poorly?" 
 
 "Well, do you know," said Ike, watching The Kid 
 keenly with his half shut eyes, " there's been a great 
 mix-up at The Lake there. A breed, half dead 
 with the saddle, came from the Old Prospector askin' 
 for the preacher. Guess the old chap's about quittin' 
 the trail." 
 
 The Kid's hand tightened on the reins. 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Hit him there, I reckon," grunted Ike to himself, 
 but the other paid no attention. " So," continued 
 Ike, " they've all gone off." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Why the hull town, seemingly. There's the 
 preacher, and the doctor, and that there Crawley 
 with Carroll's wagon outfit. They looked a little 
 like a circus, except that there wan't any wild ani- 
 mals. Unless you'd count Crawley for a monkey, 
 which would be rather hard on the monkey, I guess." 
 Ike chuckled, a rare chuckle that seemed to begin 
 a long way below his diaphragm and work slowly up 
 to his lips. 
 
 " What the deuce are you talking about ? " en- 
 quired The Kid. "What has Crawley got to do 
 with this?" 
 
 " Why," said Ike in a surprised tone, " dunno, 
 onless he's a friend of the old man's. They do have 
 a lot of business together seemingly. Or perhaps 
 as company for the gel." 
 
 " The girl ! Steady there, Swallow," to his mare, 
 for Swallow had given a sudden spring. "What 
 girl?" demanded The Kid. "Why don't you talk 
 sense? You didn't say anything about a girl." 
 
 "Why, didn't I mention about that gel? Well, 
 I'm gettin' forgetful. Why, what gel do you think? 
 They aint growin' on rose bushes or old willows round 
 here, so far as I've seen. Now, how many gels have you 
 observed in your pilgrimages round that town?" 
 
 "Oh, blank you for an idiot!" said The Kid 
 wrathfully. "Do you mean that the Miss Mow- 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 245 
 
 bray has gone off with the rest?" In spite of his 
 splendid self-control, as The Kid spoke the name a 
 red flush on his face could be suddenly seen through 
 the brown tan. 
 
 Ike nodded gravely. 
 
 "Yes, she's gone. But she'll be all right. The 
 preacher's there. He'll be busy with the old man, of 
 course, but he'll find some time for her. And then 
 there's the other chap, you know. He's been 
 mighty kind to-day, mighty kind, and considerable, 
 too. Can't say as I'd just cotton to him, but when 
 he likes he's ingraciousin' ways, mighty ingraciousin' 
 ways." 
 
 "Oh!" roared The Kid. " Crawley " Then 
 
 he looked at his cowboy's face. " Confound you, 
 Ike ! So you were pulling my leg a little, were you ? 
 Never mind, my day will come." 
 
 With this he turned the Swallow toward the Lake 
 and set off. 
 
 " Good-bye," called out Ike. " Where you 
 going?" 
 
 " Oh, I say," cried The Kid, wheeling the Swallow. 
 " What trail did they take? " 
 
 " You mean Crawley ? " inquired Ike. 
 
 With a curse The Kid bore down upon him. 
 
 " Which way did they go ? " he demanded. 
 
 " Okanagan trail," said Ike, with a slow grin. " So 
 long." 
 
 " Good-bye, Ike. You'll see me when I come back." 
 And The Kid waved his hand, and gave the Swallow 
 her head. 
 
246 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Ike looked after him, and allowed himself the very 
 unusual indulgence of a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I tried to help Crawley a little, 
 but somehow it didn't seem to go right." 
 
 A tail chase is a long chase, and so The Kid found 
 it, for the speed and endurance of the Swallow were 
 both fully tested before the advance party were over- 
 taken. 
 
 As he came in sight of them he pulled himself up 
 with the question, "What am I doing here? What 
 is my business with that party ? " For a mile or so 
 he rode slowly, keeping out of their sight, trying to 
 find such answer to this question as would satisfy not 
 so much himself but those before him, to whom, some- 
 how, he felt an answer was due. The difficulty of 
 explaining his presence became sensibly greater as 
 he pictured himself attempting to make it clear to 
 Crawley. 
 
 " It is none of his business, anyway," at length he 
 said impatiently. " She doesn't want him around. 
 How did he know ? " 
 
 Crawley was a man of some parts. He had money 
 and ability. He was a scholar, and could talk well 
 about rocks and plants. The Kid had heard him 
 discourse to the Old Prospector and Marion many a 
 day on these subjects, and intelligently, too. 
 
 " Well," he said at length, " I may be of some use, 
 anyway. Surely a fellow has a right to offer his 
 services to his friends in trouble." 
 
 With this explanation on his lips he sailed down 
 upon the company. Marion and the half-breed were 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 247 
 
 riding far in front, Crawley following as closely as 
 he could with the wagon. Some distance in the rear 
 were Shock and the doctor in the buckboard. The 
 Kid could hear Crawley pointing out to Marion in a 
 loud voice the striking features of the beauty that 
 lay around them in such a wealth and variety of pro- 
 fusion. The words of Ike came to his mind, 
 " mighty ingraciousinV 
 
 " Confound his impudence ! " he growled. " I 
 wonder if she knows the kind of snake he is? I be- 
 lieve I'll tell her, for her own sake. No. that won't 
 do, either. Well, I guess I must wait my chance." 
 But the chance seemed slow in coming. 
 
 " Thought I would ride after you and offer -see 
 if you if I could be of service." 
 
 "And we are very glad to have you," said Shock 
 heartily. 
 
 "Yes, we found you useful on occasion before, 
 and doubtless shall again," said the doctor, in a tone 
 of pleasant sufferance. 
 
 The Kid reined up behind the buckboard, waiting 
 for an excuse to ride forward, but for miles finding 
 none. 
 
 " I wonder now," said Shock at length, " if we had 
 not better stop and have tea, and then ride till dark 
 before we camp. If Marion is not tired that would 
 be the better way." 
 
 "I'll ride up and ask," said The Kid eagerly, and 
 before any other suggestion could be made he was 
 gone. 
 
 The proposition found acceptance with Marion, 
 
148 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 and, what was of more importance, with the half- 
 breed guide. 
 
 If The Kid had any doubt of his reception by the 
 girl the glad, grateful look in her eyes as he drew 
 near was enough to assure him of her welcome; and 
 as he took the guide's place by her side she hastened 
 to say, " I am glad you came, Mr. Stanton. It was 
 very kind of you to come. It was awful riding alone 
 mile after mile." 
 
 "Alone!" echoed The Kid. 
 
 "Well, I mean you know he cannot talk much 
 English and " 
 
 "Of course," promptly replied The Kid, "I am 
 awfully glad I came, now. Wasn't sure just how 
 you might take it. I mean, I did not like pushing 
 myself in, you understand." 
 
 " Oh, surely one does not need to explain a kind- 
 ness such as this," said the girl simply. " You see, 
 the doctor and Mr. Macgregor are together, and will 
 be, and the others well, I hardly know them." 
 
 The trail wound in and out, with short curves and 
 sharp ascents, among the hills, whose round tops were 
 roughened with the rocks that jutted through the 
 turf, and were decked with clumps of poplar and 
 spruce and pine. The world seemed full of bright- 
 ness to the boy. His heart overflowed with kindness 
 to all mankind. He found it possible, indeed, to 
 think of Crawley, even, with a benignant compassion. 
 
 Far up in the Pass they camped, in a little shel- 
 tered dell all thick with jack pines, through whose 
 wide-spreading roots ran and chattered a little moun~ 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 249 
 
 tain brook. But for the anxiety that lay like lead 
 upon her heart, how delightful to Marion would have 
 been this, her first, experience of a night out of doors. 
 And when after tea Shock, sitting close by the fire 5 
 read that evening Psalm breathing a trust and peace 
 that no circumstances of ill could break, the spicy 
 air and the deep blue sky overhead, sown with stars 
 that rained down their gentle beams through the 
 silent night, made for Marion a holy place where 
 God seemed near, and where it was good to lie down 
 and rest. "I will both lay me down in peace and 
 sleep, for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in 
 safety." 
 
 And that sense of security, of being under tender 5 
 loving care, did not forsake her all through the long 
 watches of the night, and through the weary miles 
 of the next day's travel that brought them at length 
 to the Old Prospector's camp. 
 
 As they neared the camp the trail emerged out of 
 thick bushes into a wide valley, where great pines 
 stood, with wide spaces between, and clear of all 
 underbrush. The whole valley was carpeted thick 
 with pine needles, and gleamed like gold in the yel- 
 low light of the evening sun. The lower boughs 
 under which they rode were dead, and hung with long 
 streamers of grey moss that gave the trees the ap- 
 pearance of hoary age. 
 
 As they entered the valley instinctively they low- 
 ered their voices and spoke in reverent tones, as if 
 they had been ushered into an assemblage of ancient 
 and silent sages. On every side the stately pines led 
 
250 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 away in long vistas that suggested the aisles of some 
 ,noble cathedral. There was no sign of life any- 
 where, no motion of leaf or bough, no sound to break 
 the solemn stillness. The clatter of a hoof over a 
 stone broke on the ear with startling discordance. 
 The wide reaches of yellow carpet of pine needles, 
 golden , and with black bars of shadow, the long 
 drawn aisles of tall pines, bearing aloft like stately 
 pillars the high, arched roof of green, the lower 
 limbs sticking out from the trunks bony and bare but 
 for the pendant streamers of grey moss, all bathed 
 in the diffused radiance of the yellow afternoon light, 
 suggested some weird and mighty fane of a people 
 long dead, whose spirits, haunting these solemn spaces, 
 still kept over their temple a silent and awful watch. 
 
 Out on the trail they met Perault in a frenzy of 
 anxious excitement. 
 
 "Tank de Bon Dieu!" he cried brokenly, with 
 hands uplifted. " Come wit' me, queek ! queek ! " 
 
 " Perault, tell us how your boss is." The doctor's 
 voice was quiet and authoritative. "And tell us 
 how long he has been ill, and how it came on. Be 
 very particular. Take plenty of time." 
 
 Peraiilt's Gallic temperament responded to the doc- 
 tor's quiet tone and manner. 
 
 "Oui. Bon," he said, settling down, "Listen to 
 me. We come nice and slow to dis place, an' den we 
 go up dat gulch for little prospect. Good ting, too. 
 Good mine dere, sure. But old boss he can't stay. 
 He must go, go, go. Den we go up 'noder gulch, 
 free, four day more, for 'noder mine. Pretty good, 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 251 
 
 too. Den one night we comin' back to camp, old 
 boss feel good. Skeep along lak small sheep. By 
 gar, he's feel too good! He's fall in crik. Dat's 
 noting. No! Good fire, plenty blanket make dat 
 all right. But dat night I hear de ole boss groan, 
 and cry, and turn overe and overe. Light de fire ; 
 give him one big drink wheesky. No good. He's 
 go bad all dat night. Nex' day he's het noting. 
 Nex' day he's worser and worser. Wat I can do I 
 can't tell. Den de Bon Dieu he send along dat half- 
 breed. De ole boss he write letter, an' you come here 
 queek." 
 
 " Thank you, Perault. A very lucid explanation, 
 indeed. Now, we shall see the patient; and you, 
 Miss Marion, had better remain here by the fire for 
 a few moments." 
 
 The doctor passed with Shock into the Old Pros- 
 pector's tent. 
 
 "Mr. Macgregor," cried the old man, stretching 
 out both hands eagerly to him, "I'm glad you have 
 come. I feared you would not ( be in time. But 
 now," sinking back upon his balsam bed, "now all 
 will be well." 
 
 " Mr. Mowbray," said Shock, " I have brought 
 the doctor with me. Let him examine you now, and 
 then we shall soon have you on your feet again." 
 
 The old gentleman smiled up into Shock's face, a 
 smile quiet and content. 
 
 "No," he said between short breaths, "I have 
 taken the long trail. My quest is over. It is not 
 for me." 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "Let the doctor have a look at you," entreated 
 Shock. 
 
 "Most certainly," said the Old Prospector, in his 
 wonted calm voice. "Let the doctor examine me. 
 I am not a man to throw away any hope, however 
 slight." 
 
 As the doctor proceeded with his examination his 
 face grew more and more grave. At length he said, 
 "It is idle for me to try to conceal the truth from 
 you, Mr. Mowbray. You are a very sick man. The 
 inflammation has become general over both lobes of 
 the lung. The walls of the vessels and the surround- 
 ing tissues have lost their vitality ; the vessels are ex- 
 tremely dilated, while exudation and infiltration have 
 proceeded to an alarming extent. The process of 
 engorgement is complete." 
 
 "Do you consider his condition dangerous, doc- 
 tor?" said Shock, breaking in upon the doctor's 
 technical description. 
 
 "In a young person the danger would not be so 
 great, but, Mr. Mowbray, I always tell the truth to 
 my patients. In a man of your age I think the hope 
 of recovery is very slight indeed." 
 
 " Thank you, doctor," said the old man cheerfully* 
 " I knew it long ago, but I am content that my quest 
 should cease at this point. And now, if you will give 
 me a few moments of close attention," he said, turn- 
 ing to Shock, " and if you will see that the privacy 
 of this tent is absolutely secure, there is little more 
 that I shall require of you." 
 
 The doctor stepped to the door. 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 
 
 " Doctor," said the Old Prospector, " I do not wish 
 you to go. It is more than I hoped, that there 
 should be beside me when I passed out of this life 
 two men that I can trust, such as yourself and Mr 
 Macgregor. Sit down close beside me and listen." 
 
 He pulled out from beneath his pillow an oil-skin 
 parcel, which he opened, discovering a small bag of 
 buckskin tied with a thong. 
 
 "Open it," he said to Shock. "Take out the 
 paper." His voice became low and eager, and his 
 manner bespoke intense excitement. 
 
 "My dear friend," said the doctor, "this will be 
 too much for you. You must be calm." 
 
 66 Give me something to drink, doctor, something 
 to steady me a bit, for I must convey to you the se- 
 cret of my life's quest." 
 
 The doctor administered a stimulant, and then, 
 with less excitement, but with no less eagerness, the 
 old man proceeded with his story. 
 
 "Here," he said, pointing with a trembling finger 
 to a line upon the paper Shock had spread before 
 him, "here is the trail that leads to the Lost River. 
 At this point we are now camped. Follow the course 
 of this stream to this point, half a day's journey, 
 not more; turn toward the east and cross over this 
 low mountain ridge and you come to a valley that 
 will strike you as one of peculiar formation. It has 
 no apparent outlet. That valley," said the Old 
 Prospector, lowering his voice to a whisper, " is the 
 valley of the Lost River. This end," keeping his 
 trembling finger at a certain point on the paper, 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "has been blocked up by a mountain slide. The 
 other turns very abruptly, still to the e>>t. Three 
 mountain peaks, kept in perfect line, will lead you 
 across this blockade to the source of the Lost River." 
 
 "Mr. Mowbray," said Shock, "Perault tells us 
 you only made short excursions from this point where 
 we are now." 
 
 "Listen," said the old man. "I made this dis- 
 covery last year. I have breathed it to no one. My 
 claim is yet unstaked, but here," said he, taking an- 
 other small buckskin bag from his breast, "here is 
 what I found." 
 
 He tried in vain with his trembling fingers to undo 
 the knot. Shock took the bag from him and opened 
 it up. 
 
 " Empty it out," said the old man, his eyes glitter- 
 ing with fever and excitement. 
 
 Shock poured forth gold dust and nuggets. 
 
 " There," he sighed. " I found these at that spot. 
 Empty the other bag," he said to Shock. " These 
 are the ones given me by the Indian so many years 
 ago. The same gold, the same rock, the same nug- 
 gets. There is my Lost River. I thought to stake 
 my claim this summer. I ought to have staked it 
 last year, but a terrible storm drove me out of the 
 mountains and I could not complete my work." 
 
 The old man ceased his tale, and lay back upon his 
 couch with closed eyes, and breathing quickly. The 
 doctor and Shock stood looking at each other in 
 amazement and perplexity. 
 
 " Is he quite himself? " said Shock, in a, low voice,, 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 255 
 
 The old man caught the question and opened his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Doctor, I am quite sane. You know I am quite 
 sane. I am excited, I confess, but I am quite sane. 
 For thirteen years and more I have sought for those 
 little pieces of metal and rock, but, thank God! I 
 have found them, not for myself, but for my girl. I 
 ruined her life I now redeem. And now, Mr. 
 Macgregor, will you undertake a charge for me? 
 Will you swear to be true, to faithfully carry out the 
 request I am to make ? " 
 
 Shock hesitated. 
 
 " Do not disappoint me," said the old man, taking 
 hold of Shock's hand eagerly with his two hands so 
 thin and worn and trembling. "Promise me," he 
 said. 
 
 " I promise," said Shock solemnly. 
 
 66 1 want you to follow this trail, to stake out this 
 claim, to register it in your name for rny daughter, 
 and to develop or dispose of this mine in the way that 
 may seem best to yourself. I trust you entirely. I 
 have watched you carefully through these months, 
 and have regained my faith in my fellow men and 
 my faith in God through knowing you. I will die 
 in peace because I know you will prove true, and," 
 after a pause, "because I know God will receive a 
 sinful, broken man like me. You promise me this, 
 Mr. Macgregor?" The old man in his eagerness 
 raised himself upon his elbow and stretched out his 
 hand to Shock. 
 
 " Once more," said Shock, in a broken voice, " I 
 
256 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 promise you, Mr. Mowbray. I will do my best to 
 carry out what you desire, and so may God help me ! " 
 
 The old man sank quietly back on his couch. A 
 smile spread over his face as he lay with closed eyes, 
 and he breathed, " Thank God ! I can trust you as 
 if you were my son." 
 
 " Hark ! " he said a moment afterwards in an 
 anxious whisper. " There is someone near the tent." 
 
 The doctor hurried out, and found Crawley in the 
 neighbourhood of the tent gathering some sticks for 
 the fire. He hastened back. 
 
 " It is only Mr. Crawley," he said, " getting some 
 jyood for the fire." 
 
 A spasm of fear distorted the old man's face. 
 
 " Crawley ! " he whispered, " I fear him. Don't 
 let him see or know. Now take these things 
 away. I have done with them I have done with 
 them! You will give my love to my daughter," he 
 said to Shock after some moments of silence. 
 
 " She is here," said Shock quietly. 
 
 66 Here ! Now ! I feared to ask. God is good. 
 Yes, God is good." 
 
 The doctor stepped out of the tent. The old man 
 lay with eager eyes watching the door. 
 
 Swiftly, but with a step composed and steady, his 
 daughter came to him. 
 
 "Father. I ami here," she said, dropping on her 
 knees beside him. 
 
 "My daughter!" he cried with a sob, while his 
 arms held her in a close embrace. "My daughter! 
 my daughter ! God is good to us." 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 257 
 
 For a long time they remained silent with their 
 arms about each other. Shock moved to the door. 
 The girl was the first to master her emotions. 
 
 "Father," she said quietly, "the doctor tells me 
 you are very ill." 
 
 " Yes, my daughter, very ill, but soon I shall be 
 better. Soon quite well." 
 
 The girl lifted up her face quickly. 
 
 "Oh, father!" she cried joyfully, "do you 
 
 think " The look on her f&ther's face checked 
 
 her joy. She could not mistake its meaning. She 
 threw herself with passionate sobs on the ground be- 
 side him. 
 
 "Yes, my daughter," went on the old man in a 
 clear, steady voice, " soon I shall be well. My life 
 has been for years a fevered dream, but the dream 
 is past. I am about to awake. Dear child, I have 
 spoiled your life. We have only a few precious 
 hours left. Help me not to spoil these for you." 
 
 At once the girl sat up, wiped her eyes, and grew 
 still. 
 
 " Yes, father, we wiU not lose them." 
 
 She put her hand in his. 
 
 "You make me strong, my daughter. I have 
 much to say to you, much to say to you of my past." 
 
 She put her fingers on his lips gently. 
 
 "Is that best, father, do you think?" she said, 
 looking lovingly into his face. 
 
 He glanced at her in quick surprise. She was a 
 girl no longer, but a woman, wise and strong and 
 brave. 
 
258 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, my daughter. But you 
 will remember that it was for you I lived my lonely 
 life, for you I pursued my fevered quest. You were 
 all I had left in the world after I had laid your 
 mother in her grave. I feared to bring you to me. 
 Now I know I need not have feared. Now I know 
 what I have missed, my daughter." 
 
 " We have found each other, dear, dear father," 
 the girl said, and while her voice broke for a moment 
 in a sob her face was bright with smiles. 
 
 "Yes, my daughter, we have found each other at 
 length. The doors of my heart, long closed, had 
 grown rusty, but now they are wide open, and gladly 
 I welcome you." 
 
 There was silence for some minutes, then the old 
 man went on, painfully, with ever shortening breath. 
 " Now, listen to me carefully." And then he told her 
 the tale of his search for the Lost River, ending with 
 the eager exclamation : " And last year I found it. 
 It is a mine rich beyond my fondest hopes, and it is 
 yours. It is yours, my daughter." 
 
 "Oh, father," cried the girl, losing herself for a 
 moment, " I don't want the mine. It is you I want." 
 
 " Yes, my daughter, I know that well, but for the 
 present it is not the will of God that I should be with 
 you, and I have learned that it is good to trust to 
 Him, and without fear I give you, my daughter, to 
 His care." 
 
 Again the girl grew steady and calm. 
 
 "Call Mr. Macgregor and the doctor, my dear," 
 her father said. " These gentlemen alone," he con- 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 259 
 
 tinued when they had come to him, "hold my secret. 
 Even Perault does not know all. He knows the val- 
 ley which we explored last year, but he does not know 
 it is the Lost River. Mr. Macgregor has promised 
 to see the claim staked. Perault will guide him to 
 it. This paper," taking a packet from his breast, 
 "is my will. In it a full disposal is made of all. 
 Now I will sign it." 
 
 The paper was duly signed and witnessed. With 
 a sigh of content the old man sank back upon his 
 bed. 
 
 " Now all is done. I am well content." 
 
 For some time he lay with closed eyes. Then, 
 waking suddenly, he looked at Shock and said: 
 " Carry me out, Mr. Macgregor. Carry me out 
 where I can see the trees and the stars. Through 
 long years they have been my best friends. There, 
 too, I would lie in my long sleep." 
 
 They made a bed of boughs and skins for him be- 
 fore the camp-fire, and out into the dry, warm night 
 Shock carried him. In the wide valley there still 
 lingered the soft light of the dying day, but the 
 shadows were everywhere lying deeper. Night was 
 rapidly drawing up her curtains upon the world. 
 The great trees stood in the dim light silent, solemn, 
 and shadowy, keeping kindly watch over the valley 
 and all things therein. Over the eastern hill the 
 full moon was just beginning to rise. The mingled 
 lights of silver and gold falling through the trees 
 lent a rare, unearthly loveliness to the whole scene. 
 
 The Old Prospector, reclining on his couch, let 
 
260 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 his eyes wander over the valley and up through the 
 trees to the sky and the stars, while a smile of full 
 content rested on his face. 
 
 " It is a lovely night, dear father," said his daugh- 
 ter, quick to interpret his thought. 
 
 " Yes, my daughter, a rare night. Often have I 
 seen such nights in this very spot, but never till to- 
 night did their full joy enter my heart. My life 
 was one long, terrible unreality. To-night the 
 world is new, and full of loveliness and all peace." 
 
 Then he lay in long silence. The doctor came 
 near, touched his wrist, listened to the beating of his 
 heart, and whispered to his daughter, " It will not 
 be long now." 
 
 The old man opened his eyes. "You are near, 
 my daughter," he said. 
 
 " Yes, father, dear, I am here," she replied, press- 
 ing his hand between hers. 
 
 " Could you sing something, do you think ? " 
 
 The girl drew in her breath sharply as with a sob 
 of pain. 
 
 " No," said her father. " Never mind, my daugh- 
 ter. It is too much to ask." 
 
 " Yes, yes, father, I will sing. What shall I 
 sing?" 
 
 " Sing Bernard's great hymn, 'The world is very 
 evil.' " 
 
 It was a hymn she had often sung for him, select- 
 ing such of its verses as were more familiar, and as 
 expressed more nearly the thought in their hearts. 
 
 As she began to sing the doctor passed out beyond 
 
OLD PROSPECTOR'S AWAKING 261 
 
 the firelight to the side of the tent. There he found 
 Stanton, with his head bowed low between his knees. 
 
 "My boy, 5 ' said the doctor, "that is very beau- 
 tiful, but it is very hard to bear." 
 
 " Yes," said Stanton. " I'm a baby. I would like 
 to help her, but I cannot." 
 
 " Well, my boy, she needs no help that either you 
 or I can give." 
 
 Perault, the half-breed, and Crawley sat in silence 
 at the other side of the fire. Shock remained near 
 the girl, wondering at her marvellous self-control. 
 
 Verse after verse she sang in a voice low, but clear 
 and sweet. As the refrain occurred again and 
 again, 
 
 ** O sweet and blessed country, the home of God's elect, 
 O sweet and blessed country that eager hearts expect, 
 Jesus, in mercy bring us to that dear Jand of rest*** 
 
 the only change was that the song rose a little clearer 
 and fuller and with deeper tone. 
 
 After she had finished the camp lay ia perfect 
 silence. 
 
 "Are you asleep, father, dear?" his daughter said 
 at length, but there was no reply. She touched his 
 hands and his face. 
 
 "Father!" she cried in a voice of awe and fear, 
 but still there was no reply. 
 
 The doctor came hastily into the light, looked into 
 the old man's face, and said : " He is gone." 
 
 With a long, low, wailing cry the girl laid herself 
 upon the ground by her father's side and put her 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 arms around him. They all gathered about the 
 couch, with the doctor and Shock standing nearest. 
 
 "Poor child!" said the doctor softly, "This is 
 a sad night for her." 
 
 " Yes," said Shock, in a voice quiet and steady, 
 "For her the night is sad, but for him the day has 
 dawned and there shall be night no more." 
 
 There, in that wide valley where the yellow pine 
 aeedles lie deep and where morning arid evening the 
 mingling lights fall softly through the over-arch- 
 ing boughs, they laid the Old Prospector to rest 
 under the pines and the stars that had beea his com- 
 panions 'for so long. 
 
XV 
 
 EJECTED AND REJECTED 
 
 IN the main room of the Old Prospector's house 
 some ten or twelve stern-faced men had gathered. 
 The easy, careless manner that was characteristic 
 of the ranchers and cowboys of the district had 
 given place to an air of stern and serious determin- 
 ation. It was evident that they had gathered for 
 some purpose of more than ordinary moment. By 
 common consent Sinclair, a shrewd and fair-minded 
 Scotch rancher who possessed the complete confidence 
 of every man in the company, both for his integrity 
 and his intelligence, was in the chair. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Macgregor? " he enquired. 
 " Gone to the Fort," answered The Kid. " He is 
 on duty there to-morrow. He wished me to say, how- 
 ever, that he has no desire to push this matter, as far 
 as he is personally concerned, but that if the com- 
 mittee thinks the public good demands his presence 
 and his testimony he will appear on Monday." 
 
 " He ought to be here," said Sinclair, and his tone 
 almost conveyed a reproof. 
 
 " He'll come if he's wanted, I guess," drawled out 
 Ike, quick to take his friend's part. 
 
 " Well, then let us proceed. Let us get the facts 
 263 
 
264 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 first," said Sinclair. " Stanton, we would like to hear 
 what you have to say." 
 
 " Well," said The Kid, " there is not much that I 
 have to tell, but I shall begin at the beginning and 
 give you all I know." Stanton's air of boyish care- 
 lessness had quite disappeared, his voice took a deeper 
 tone than usual, his manner was grave and stern. 
 " It was six days ago that I happened to call at the 
 Old Prospector's house." 
 
 " To see the preacher, I guess," interrupted Ike 
 gravely, winking at Macnamara, who responded with 
 a hearty " Ha ! ha ! Of course ! " 
 
 " Quit that, Ike," said Sinclair sternly. " We have 
 got business on hand." 
 
 "As I was saying," continued the Kid, with height- 
 ened colour, "I called at the Old Prospector's house 
 and found Miss Mowbray in a state of great anxiety 
 in regard to Mr. Macgregor. She told me how the 
 doctor had come to see Mr. Macgregor about a week 
 before, in great excitement, and had informed him 
 that Carroll and Crawley had set off for the moun- 
 tains two days before, and how, upon hearing that, 
 Mr. Macgregor and Perault had hastily followed, 
 having with them about a week's provisions." 
 
 " What reason did Miss Mowbray assign for this ? " 
 enquired Sinclair. 
 
 " Well, I suppose it's no secret, now," said The Kid, 
 with some hesitation. " The Old Prospector, you know, 
 before his death had made a very rich find, but died 
 without staking his claim. The secret of its location 
 he entrusted to Mr. Macgregor and the doctor. The 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 265 
 
 doctor, in a fit of drunkenness, gave the secret away 
 to Carroll and Crawley, who, leaving him incapable 
 from drink, set off at once to stake the claim." 
 
 " Hold on, Mr. Stanton," said Sinclair. " We must 
 be careful. How do you know their purpose in set- 
 ting off for the mountains ? " 
 
 " Well, I think " 
 
 " But," interrupted Sinclair, " we must have state- 
 ments of fact only." 
 
 " Dat's so ! " cried Perault excitedly. " Dem feller 
 try to get de Ole Boss show dat mine, for sure. Craw- 
 ley he's try to mak de Ole Boss tell. I hear heem, me. 
 Dem feller want dat mine bad." 
 
 " All right, Perault," said Sinclair quietly. " That 
 doesn't prove they went to stake that claim. Go on, 
 Stanton." 
 
 " Well," continued The Kid, " I set off at once, and 
 on my second day out I met these two men, Mr. Mac- 
 gregor and Perault, exhausted with travelling and 
 faint with hunger." 
 
 " Guess you'd better tell how you found them, Kid," 
 said Ike, who had heard the story before. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," continued The Kid, his voice 
 shaking, " it was a pretty tough sight, I can tell you. 
 I first saw them a long way down the trail. Mr. Mac- 
 gregor was carrying Perault on his back and evi- 
 dently walking with great difficulty. When I came 
 up to them I found Perault was almost, if not quite, 
 insensible, and Mr. Macgregor in the last stages of 
 exhaustion." The Kid paused a few moments to 
 steady his voice. Low, deep oaths were heard on 
 
266 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 every side, while Perault, still weak and nervous from 
 his recent terrible experience, was sobbing audibly. 
 
 " I had plenty of grub," continued The Kid. " I 
 did my best for them and helped them home. That 
 is all I have to say." 
 
 A deep silence fell upon the group of men. 
 
 " Now, Perault," said Sinclair, " tell us your 
 story." 
 
 Perault tried to steady his voice, but, failing 
 utterly, broke into passionate weeping, Sinclair wait- 
 ing in grave silence for him to recover. Macnamara, 
 the soft-hearted big Irish rancher, was quietly wiping 
 his eyes, while the other men were swearing terrible 
 oaths. 
 
 " Give him a drink," drawled Ike. " Too much 
 water aint good for no man." 
 
 Half a dozen flasks were immediately offered. Pe- 
 rault drank, and, after a few moments, began his tale. 
 
 " I can' spik much, me," he said, " when I tink how 
 dat beeg feller pack me on hees back twenty mile, I 
 fin' bad pain here," striking his breast, " and den I 
 can' spik at all." And again the little Frenchman's 
 voice broke down in sobs. 
 
 " Take time, Perault," said Sinclair gravely. " We 
 want to know all about it. Begin at the beginning and 
 tell it in your own way." The grave tone, even more 
 than the whisky he had drunk, steadied Perault, and 
 he began again. 
 
 " Dat's twelve or tirteen day, now. De Preachere, 
 dat Prospector, I call heem, he's jus' lak de Ole Boss, 
 for sure de Prospector he's sen' dat ole fool doctor 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 267 
 
 for me queek. I come and fin' de Prospector he's 
 ver' mad; mos' awful mad; never see heem lak dat 
 before. ' Perault,' he say, ' get ponee and grub 
 queek. We go for de Los' Reever.' 
 
 " By gar ! He's mak me scare. I get ponee an* 
 grub and get off queek, toute suite, right away. 
 Well, we go two day hard and come to de camp where 
 de Ole Boss he's die, den we climb over de montin. 
 De Prospector he's got map and show me trail. Oui, 
 I know him bon, fus rate. * Perault,* he say, 'you 
 min' las' year de Ole Boss he's fin' good mine way up 
 in de valley ? ' ' Oui, for sure.' * You know de trail ? ' 
 * Oui, certainment.' ' Den,' he say, ' we go dere.' 
 Nex' day we strike dat trail and go four or five mile. 
 We come to dat valley Mon Dieu! dere's no valley 
 dere. We come back and try once more dat blank 
 valley, she's no dere. De Prospector he look much 
 on dat map. ' Where dose tree peak? ' he say. * Dere 
 sure 'nuff, one, two tree. Dat valley she's right on 
 line of dose peak.' ' Sure,' I say. ' I see heem myself 
 she's gone now for sure ! Ah ! Voila ! I see ! Beeg 
 slide feel dat valley up! By gar! Dat's so, dat 
 montin she's half gone, dat valley he's full up. Mon 
 Dieu ! De Prospector he's lak wiP man. ' Perault,' 
 he say, ' I promise de ole man I go for fin' dat mine.' 
 'All right, boss,' I say, 'me too.' We make cache 
 for grub, we hobble de ponee and go for fin' dat mine. 
 Dat's one blank hard day. Over rock and tree and 
 hole and stomp he's go lak one deerhoun.' Next day 
 he's jus' same. For me, I'm tire' out. Well, we come 
 home to camp, slow, slow, hungree, soref oot by gar ! 
 
268 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Sacre bleu! Dat cache she broke up, de grub he's 
 gone! Mon Dieu! dat's bad four or five day walk 
 from home and no grub at all. 9 ' 
 
 " What did you think, Perault? " asked Sinclair. 
 " Did you see signs of any beast, bear or mountain 
 lion?" 
 
 " Sure, dat's what I tink f us' ting, but de Pros- 
 pector he's walk aroun' quiet and look everyting. 
 ' Perault, dat's f onee ting,' he say. ' Where dose can' 
 meat, eh?' By gar! dat's so, de bear he can' eat 
 dose can' meat, not moche ! " 
 
 " Not likely, not bein' a goat," put in Ike drily. 
 
 " Well, we look aroun' ver' close, no scratch, no 
 track. By gar ! dat's no bear, for sure dat's one bear 
 on two leg." 
 
 " I think," said Sinclair gravely, " that there is no 
 doubt of that. The question is, who did it ? Gentle- 
 men, it has been proved that these two men, Carroll 
 and Crawley, were away during the week when this 
 crime took place. We do not know where they were, 
 but we must be fair to them. We may have our opin- 
 ions about this, but in fixing the responsibility of this 
 crime we must be exceedingly careful to deal justly 
 with every man. I suggest we call Carroll." 
 
 Carroll came to the meeting without hesitation, and 
 with him, Crawley. 
 
 " We will take you in a few minutes," said Sinclair 
 to Crawley. 
 
 " Now," he continued to Carroll, when Crawley had 
 been removed, " we would like to know where you 
 were last week." 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 269 
 
 " That's nobody's blank business," said Carroll. 
 
 An angry murmur arose from the crowd. 
 
 " Carroll, this thing is too serious for any bluffing, 
 and we are going to see it through. It is fair that 
 you should know why we ask. Let me give you the 
 facts we have found out." Sinclair gave a brief re- 
 sume of the story as gathered from Stanton and 
 Perault. As Carroll listened his face grew white 
 with fury. 
 
 "Does any blank, blank son of a horse thief," he 
 cried, when Sinclair had done, "say I am the man 
 that broke open that cache? Let him stand up for- 
 ninst me and say so." He gnashed his teeth in his 
 rage. " Whin Tim Carroll goes to git even wid a 
 man he doesn't go behind his back fur it, and yez all 
 know that ! No," he cried, planting his huge fist with 
 a crash upon the table, " I didn't put a finger on the 
 cache nor his ponies ayther, begob 1 " 
 
 " All right, Carroll, we are glad to hear it," said 
 Sinclair, in a cold, stern voice. " You needn't get so 
 wild over it. You cannot frighten us, you know. 
 Every man here can give an account of his doings last 
 week can you ? " 
 
 " I can that same," said Carroll, somewhat subdued 
 by Sinclair's tone and manner. " I am not afraid to 
 say that we went up to see a mine we heard of." 
 
 "You and Crawley, you mean?" said Sinclair 
 quietly. 
 
 " Yes," continued Carroll, " and that's fair enough, 
 too; and we hunted around a week fur it, an' came 
 back." 
 
270 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Did you find your mine? " asked Sinclair. 
 
 " We did not, and it's a blank, blank fool I was to 
 listen to the yarn of the drunken old fool of a 
 doctor." 
 
 " Thank you, Carroll. Now, I do not think myself 
 that you touched that cache." 
 
 " If he did, he will swing for it," said a voice, cool 
 arid relentless, in the crowd. 
 
 Carroll started a little as he heard that voice. 
 
 "You shut up!" said Ike. 
 
 " Now, Carroll, we want you to answer a few ques- 
 tions," continued Sinclair. " Mr. Crawley brought 
 you to the camp where the Old Prospector died is 
 that right? " 
 
 "He did." 
 
 " And then you went east from that point over the 
 mountain ? " 
 
 " We did, and I am telling you we was looking for 
 that mine we heard of." 
 
 " All right," said Sinclair. " How long did you 
 stay in that neighbourhood? " 
 
 "A week or so." 
 
 " Did you see Mr. Macgregor or Perault while you 
 were there ? " 
 
 " That's none of your business." 
 
 " You'd better answer, Carroll." 
 
 " It '11 be your business pretty blank soon ! " 
 drawled the voice again. 
 
 " Shut up ! " said Ike. " Give him a chance." 
 
 " I think you'd better answer," said Sinclair 
 quietly. " You've nothing to hide, I suppose ? " 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 271 
 
 " I haven't," said Carroll defiantly. " We did see 
 them two walking around, and we soon knew, too, that 
 they didn't know any more than ourselves about that 
 mine. Thin we came away." 
 
 " Did you see their camp ? " 
 
 " We did. We passed it by." 
 
 " Did you stop and speak to them ? " 
 
 " No, we did not ; for the good reason they weren't 
 there." 
 
 "Did you examine the camp or touch anything?" 
 
 " Nivir a touch, so help me God ! '' said Carroll, 
 with great earnestness. 
 
 " Then did you and Crawley come away together? " 
 
 "We did." 
 
 " Where did you camp that night ? " 
 
 " Over the mountain beyarit, f orninst the Old Pros- 
 pector's grave." 
 
 " And you came straight home next day ? " 
 
 " We did, except for a luk at a couple of prospects 
 we knew of." 
 
 " Oh ! How long did that take you? " 
 
 " It tuk me about a day, and Crawley a little less, 
 I'm thinkin'." 
 
 "How was that, Carroll?" enquired Sinclair. 
 
 " Well, he tuk one gulch and I tuk the other, and 
 he got through before me, and the next day we came 
 home ; and that's the truth of it, so help me." 
 
 " Then you were never separated from each other 
 except for that one day? " 
 
 " That's true." There was no mistaking the sin- 
 cerity and honesty of Carroll's manner. 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Any further questions to ask, gentlemen ? " 
 
 " How long did you stop at Mr. Macgregor's camp 
 when you was passing by ? " asked Ike. 
 
 " Don't be so blanked smart, Ike ! " said Carroll, in 
 savage scorn. " I'm telling you that I didn't stop a 
 f ut. We saw their camp and their ponies and we went 
 sthraight past." 
 
 " Didn't stop to light your pipe or nothing? " en- 
 quired Ike. 
 
 " Blank your blank ugly mug ! " roared Carroll, 
 " do you mean to say " 
 
 " Oh, nothing," said Ike quietly. " Just wanted to 
 know how long you stopped ? " 
 
 " And I am tellin' you we didn't sthop atall, atall, 
 not a f ut of us ! We didn't go near their camp within 
 fifty yards." 
 
 " Not fifty yards, eh? Well, that's strange." 
 
 Carroll poured out a volley of oaths. 
 
 "You're sure about that fifty yards, Carroll?" 
 asked Ike, in insinuating tones. 
 
 " I didn't pace it, you blanked fool ! but I'll swear 
 it wasn't more than thirty." 
 
 " You're dead sure about that thirty yards, Car- 
 roll ? " persisted Ike. 
 
 " I am that, and if you want to say anything more 
 come outside ! " said Carroll, glaring wildly at his 
 interlocutor. 
 
 " Oh, thanks, I'm comfortable," said Ike mildly, as 
 he sat back in his chair. "Hope you are the 
 same." 
 
 " That will do, Carroll," said Sinclair. " I am sure 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 
 
 we all feel much obliged to you for your straightfor- 
 ward answers. If we want you again we'll send for 
 
 you." 
 
 " And I'll come," said Carroll, with another oath, 
 passing out of the room. 
 
 " Now," said Sinclair, " we'll have Crawley." 
 
 In a few moments Crawley came in, smiling and 
 self-confident, with plenty of nerve, an abundance of 
 wit, and a most ingenuous manner. He met the chair- 
 man's questions with ready assurance and corrobo- 
 rated the story told by Carroll. He would frankly 
 acknowledge that he had heard about the Lost River. 
 Indeed, he had been more or less interested in it for 
 some years and, though he did not take much stock in 
 the doctor's word, still he declared that his own inter- 
 ests and the interests of Miss Mowbray, and indeed 
 of all concerned, demanded that the thing was worth 
 looking into. They visited the locality indicated by 
 the doctor; they spent a week in exploration, but 
 could find no trace of such a valuable mine as the 
 doctor had descried; and they had come away not 
 very much disappointed; they had hardly expected 
 any other result. They had seen Mr. Macgregor's 
 camp, but they had not approached it; they passed 
 by at some distance, leaving everything undis- 
 turbed. 
 
 " You camped that night near the Old Prospector's 
 grave ? " asked Sinclair. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " The next day you set off for home? " 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "You and Carroll were always together?" 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "You came home by the same trail and without 
 any other explorations ? " 
 
 Here Crawley hesitated a moment. "Well, yes, 
 except that we ran up a gulch to look at some rocks." 
 
 " Oh ! Did you find anything? " 
 
 "Well, we think so," said Crawley pleasantly. 
 
 "You went both together up the gulch? You 
 were never separated ? " 
 
 "We went together, yes." 
 
 "Any further questions, gentlemen?" 
 
 For a time there was no response, then Ike came 
 slowly forward to the table and stood by Crawley's 
 side. 
 
 " You did not go near that cache ? " 
 
 " No," said Crawley firmly. 
 
 "Are you mighty sure about that? Better be 
 sure." 
 
 " I am positive we did not go within twenty or 
 thirty yards," said Crawley defiantly. 
 
 " All right, Crawley," drawled Ike, " better have a 
 pipe now." And as he spoke he threw down a tobacco 
 pouch on the table. 
 
 Crawley turned pale, gripped at the table to steady 
 himself, gazed at the pouch lying before him for a 
 few moments and then enquired in a voice that shook 
 in spite of all that he could do: "Who gave you 
 where did you get that? " 
 
 "It's yours, aint it? Got your name on, any- 
 way," said Ike. " Where did you leave it? " 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 275 
 
 "Don't know," said Crawley, turning green with 
 terror. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Ike, addressing the crowd, " I 
 aint agoiii' to make no speech to this jury, but I 
 want to remark that this here blank reptile is a blank 
 liar, and if he aint a murderer 'taint his fault. That 
 there pouch of his," continued Ike, putting a long 
 forefinger down upon the article lying on the table, 
 " that there pouch of his was found by the ' Pros- 
 pector,' as Perault calls him, beside that there empty 
 cache. That's all I have to say." And Ike turned and 
 walked slowly back to his seat. 
 
 In vain the trembling wretch tried first to bluster 
 and then to explain. Carroll was again summoned 
 and affirmed emphatically that he and Crawley had 
 been separated for the greater part of one day, and 
 that while together they had not approached Mr. 
 Macgregor's camp. 
 
 " That will do, Carroll," said Sinclair quietly. " We 
 believe you entirely, and I would like to say that for 
 my part I am mighty glad that you are entirely freed 
 from suspicion." 
 
 " That's so, you bet ! " came from the men on all 
 sides, as one by one they stepped forward to shake 
 Carroll warmly by the hand. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," said Sinclair, " make your de- 
 cision. This man," pointing to Crawley, " is charged 
 with a serious crime. What is your verdict ? " 
 
 One by one the men. threw into the hat on the table 
 a bit of paper. In silence Sinclair and The Kid read 
 and recorded the ballots. When they had finished 
 
276 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Sinclair stood up, looking sternly at Crawley, and 
 said: 
 
 "Mr. Crawley, this Committee say unanimously 
 that you are guilty. Have you anything to say 
 before sentence is pronounced?" 
 
 The wretched creature fell on his knees with tears 
 and cries entreating mercy. 
 
 " Take him away," said Sinclair sternly. " Now, 
 gentlemen, what have you to say? What shall be 
 done to this man whom you have decided to be guilty 
 of murder ? " 
 
 The discussion which followed was long and bitter. 
 Sinclair and those who had come more recently to the 
 country were for handing him over to the police. 
 
 " What's the good of that, Sinclair ? " demanded 
 Macnamara, one of the old-timers. 
 
 "Well, he'll get justice sure; he'll get sent up." 
 
 " Don't know about that," said Ike. " You see, you 
 can't prove anything but stealin', and you can't prove 
 that, for sure. They'll take him down to Regina, and 
 they aint going to give him much down there for 
 stealin' a little grub." 
 
 "Well, what do you propose?" said Sinclair. 
 
 " Well," said Ike, " hangin's too good for him. He 
 ought to be hung, but 'taint the custom in this here 
 country, I understand, and I surmise we'd better 
 scare the daylights out of him and give him twelve 
 hours to get out." 
 
 After some further discussion Ike's proposition was 
 accepted. That night four masked men took Craw- 
 ley out of the room where he had been kept a prisoner 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 277 
 
 and led him out of the village and up the trail to the 
 woods, and there, unheeding his prayers and cries and 
 groans, they made solemn preparations for his exe- 
 cution. In the midst of their preparations Sinclair, 
 with a number of others, came galloping up and de- 
 manded the prisoner's release, and after a long and 
 bitter discussion it was finally agreed that Crawley 
 should be given twelve hours to leave the country, 
 which decision was joyfully and tearfully accepted 
 by the terror-stricken wretch. 
 
 "Hello, old man, there's a letter for you in my 
 rooms. Thought you'd be in tc-day, so took care of it 
 for you." Father Mike drew near Shock's buckboard 
 and greeted him cordially. " By Jove ! what's the 
 matter with you? What have you been doing to 
 yourself?" he exclaimed, looking keenly into Shock's 
 face. 
 
 " I am rather seedy," said Shock. " Played out, in- 
 deed." And he gave Father Mike an account of his 
 last week's experience. 
 
 "Great Caesar!" exclaimed Father Mike, "that 
 was a close thing. Come right along and stretch 
 yourself out of my couch. A cup of tea will do you 
 good." Shock, gladly accepting the invitation, went 
 with him. 
 
 " There's your letter," said Father Mike, as he set 
 Shock in his deep armchair. " You read it while I 
 make tea." 
 
 The letter was, as Father Mike had said, a fat one. 
 It was from his Convener and ran thus : 
 
278 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. MACGREGOR : 
 
 " The enclosed letter from the Superintendent will 
 explain itself. You are instructed to withdraw forth- 
 with your services from the Fort. I know you will 
 be disappointed. This is the sort of thing that 
 makes our work in the West depressing : not big bliz- 
 zards nor small grants, but failure on the part of 
 Eastern men to understand our needs and to appre- 
 ciate the tremendous importance of these years to the 
 West. Never mind, our day will come. I regret 
 greatly that the Committee should have been influ- 
 enced by the petition enclosed. Do not let this worry 
 you. The Superintendent's P. S. is due to some mis- 
 understanding. I have written him on this matter. 
 We know some of your difficulties and we have every 
 confidence in you," etc., etc. 
 
 From the Superintendent's letter the Convener had 
 enclosed the following extracts : 
 
 " It has been decided to withdraw our services from 
 the Fort. I had a stiff fight in the Committee, but 
 failed; they were all against me. Dr. Macfarren 
 especially so had private information (from his 
 brother, I suppose) ; presented a petition, which find 
 enclosed; protested against the waste of funds, etc., 
 etc. This precious petition, by the way, seemed to 
 influence the Committee greatly. I need not tell you 
 it failed to influence me, unless indeed as an evidence 
 of the need of our services in that place. You and I 
 have seen this sort of thing before in the West. 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 279 
 
 Young Lloyd of the Park Church, too, was eloquent 
 in opposing the old story, funds overlapping, de- 
 nominational rivalry. These young men, who decline 
 to face the frontier, would show better taste in seek- 
 ing to learn something of the West than in hamper- 
 ing those who are giving their lives to this work. 
 The upholstered seat of the Park Church pulpit does 
 not induce the liveliest sympathy with the Western 
 conditions. Meantime the Convener sits on the chest, 
 and the rest of the Committee seem to feel that their 
 chief duty lies in cutting down expenses and that the 
 highest possible achievement is their meeting the 
 Assembly without a deficit 
 
 " P. S. Dr. Macfarren hinted a good deal at want 
 of tact on the part of our Missionary, and young 
 Lloyd, who knows Macgregor, seemed to consider this 
 quite possible. Our Missionary must not antagonise 
 men unnecessarily, Send him this letter if you think 
 well; I always like to deal frankly with our men," 
 etc., etc. 
 
 As Shock read the letters and glanced at the petition 
 his look of weariness passed away and the old scrim- 
 mage smile came back to his face. " Read that," he 
 said, handing the letters to Father Mike, who read 
 them in silence. 
 
 "Withdraw!" he exclaimed in astonishment when 
 he had finished reading. " And why, pray ? " 
 
 66 Oh ! don't you see, * funds overlapping, denomi- 
 national rivalry ' ? " 
 
 " ' Overlapping, rivalry,' rot ! You cannot do m^j 
 
280 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 work here and I cannot do yours. I say, this petition 
 would be rich if it were not so damnable," added 
 Father Mike, glancing at the document. " 'Whereas, 
 the town is amply supplied with church services there 
 is no desire for services by the Presbyterians ' or by 
 any others for that matter," interjected Father Mike. 
 "Let us see who signs this blessed paper? Macfar- 
 ren. He's a beautiful churchman. Inspector Haynes. 
 What's he got to do with it? Frank, Smith, Crozier! 
 Why, the thing is a farce ! Not a man of them ever 
 goes to church. 'Whereas, the Presbyterians are 
 quite unable to assume any financial obligation in 
 support of a minister.' Why, the whole outfit doesn't 
 contribute a dollar a month. Isn't it preposterous, 
 a beastly humbug! Who is this young whipper- 
 snapper, Lloyd, pray? " Father Mike's tone was full 
 of contempt. 
 
 Shock winced. His friend had touched the only 
 place left, raw by the letter. " He is a college friend 
 of mine," he answered quickly. " A fine fellow and a 
 great preacher." 
 
 "Oh!" replied Father Mike drily. "I beg par- 
 don. Well, what will you do? " 
 
 "Withdraw," said Shock simply. "I haven't 
 made it go, anyway." 
 
 "Rot!" said Father Mike, with great emphasis. 
 " Macf arren doesn't want you, and possibly the In- 
 spector shares in that feeling, I guess you know 
 why, but you are needed in this town, and needed 
 badly." 
 
 But Shock only replied: "I shall withdraw* I 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 
 
 have been rather a failure, I guess. Let's talk no 
 more about it." 
 
 " All right, old chap," said Father Mike. " Come 
 along to tea. I wish to Heaven there were more fail- 
 ures like you in the country," 
 
 Shock's last service at the Fort marked his emanci- 
 pation as a preacher of the Gospel. Hitherto the 
 presence of those whom he knew to be indifferent or 
 contemptuously critical had wrought in him a self- 
 consciousness that confused his thought, clogged his 
 emotion, and hampered his speech. This night all 
 was changed. The hall was full; the Inspector and 
 his wife, with the men from the barracks, Macfarren 
 and his followers, General Brady and his gracious, 
 sweet-faced wife, were all there. Ike and The Kid 
 whose ranch lay halfway between the Lake and the 
 Fort had ridden in, and far back in the dim dark- 
 ness of a corner sat the doctor. As Shock stood up 
 and looked into the faces of the men before him and 
 thought of their lives, lonely, tempted, frankly 
 wicked, some of them far down in degradation, he for- 
 got himself , his success, or his failure. What mattered 
 that! How petty seemed now all his considerations 
 for himself ! Men were before him who by reason of 
 sin were in sore need of help. He believed he had 
 what they needed. How to give it to them, that was 
 the question. With this feeling of sympathy and 
 compassion, deepened and intensified by a poignant 
 sense of failure, Shock stood up to deliver to them his 
 last message. He would speak the truth to-night, 
 and speak it he did, without a tinge of embarrassment 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 or fear. As his words began to flow he became con- 
 scious of a new strength, of a new freedom, and the 
 joy of his new strength and freedom swept him along 
 on a full tide of burning speech. He abandoned his 
 notes, from which he had hitherto feared to be far 
 separated; he left the desk, which had been to him a 
 barricade for defence, and stood up before the people, 
 His theme was the story of the leprous mUn who dared 
 to come to the Great Healer in all the hideousness of 
 his disease and who was straightway cleansed. After 
 reading the words he stood facing them a few mo- 
 ments in silence and then, without any manner of in 
 troduction, he began: 
 
 " That's what you want, men. You need to be made 
 clean, you need to be made strong." The people 
 stared at him as if he had gone mad, it was so unlike 
 his usual formal, awkward self. Quietly, but with 
 intense and serious earnestness, he spoke to them of 
 their sins, their drunken orgies, their awful profanity, 
 their disregard of every tiling religious, their open 
 vices and secret sins. 
 
 " Say," said Ike to The Kid, who sat next to him, 
 " they'll be gettin* out their guns sure ! " But there 
 was no anger in the faces lifted up to the speaker? 
 the matter was too serious for anger and the tone was 
 too kindly for offence. Without hesitation Shock 
 went on with his terribly relentless indictment of the 
 men who sat before him. Then, with a swift change 
 of tone and thought,, he cried in a voice vibrating with 
 compassion : 
 
 " And you cannot help it, men 1 The pity of it is s 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 
 
 you cannot help it ! You cannot change your hearts ; 
 you love these things, you cannot shake them off, they 
 have grown upon you and have become your fixed 
 habits. Some of you have tried: I know you have 
 had your periods of remorse and you have sought to 
 escape, but you have failed." 
 
 He paused a moment, and then continued in a voice 
 humble and remorseful: 
 
 " I have failed, too. I thought in my pride and my 
 folly that I could help you, but I have failed. We 
 have failed together, men what then is before us ? " 
 
 His voice took a deeper tone, his manner was ear- 
 nestly respectful and tenderly sympathetic, as he set 
 before them the Divine Man, so quick to sympathise, 
 so ready and so powerful to help. 
 
 " He is the same to-night, men ! Appeal to Him and 
 He will respond as He did to this poor leprous man." 
 
 Over and over again he urged this upon them, heap- 
 ing argument upon argument, seeking to persuade 
 them that it was worth while making the attempt. 
 
 " Say, boss, seems reasonable, don't it, and easy, 
 too? " said Ike to The Kid, who was listening with face 
 pale and intent. The Kid nodded without moving 
 his eager eyes from the speakers face. 
 
 "But I can't just git the throw, quite," continued 
 Ike, with a puzzled air. 
 
 " Hush, listen ! " said The Kid sharply. Shock had 
 paused abruptly. For a few moments he stood look- 
 ing into the eyes of the men gaping back at him with 
 such intense eagerness; then leaning forward a little 
 he said in a voice low, but thrilling with emotion: 
 
284 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Does any man here think his father or mother has 
 forgotten him or does not care what happens to 
 him?" 
 
 Shock was thinking of his own dear old mother, 
 separated from him by so many leagues of empty 
 prairie, but so near to him in love and sympathy. 
 
 "Does any man think so?" he repeated, "and do 
 you think your Father in Heaven does not care ? Oh ! 
 do not think so ! " His voice rose in a cry of entreaty. 
 The effect was tremendous. 
 
 " God in Heaven, help me ! " cried The Kid to him- 
 self with a sob in his voice. 
 
 " Me too, boss," said Ike gravely, putting his hand 
 on the other's knee. 
 
 Shock's farewell was as abrupt as his beginning. 
 In a single sentence he informed them that the services 
 would be discontinued at this end of the field. He 
 wished he could have served them better; he knew he 
 had failed; he asked their forgiveness as he had 
 already asked it of his God ; but, though he had failed, 
 he commended them to Him who had never failed any 
 man appealing to Him for help. 
 
 There was no hymn, but in a simple, short prayer 
 the service was closed, and before the congregation 
 had recovered from their amazement Shock had 
 passed out through the back door. 
 
 " Well, I'll be blanked! " said Ike, with a gasp. 
 
 " Quit that, Ike," said The Kid sharply. " Look 
 here I am going to quit swearing right now, so 
 help me." 
 
 " All right, boss, I'm with you ; put it there." 
 
EJECTED A1STD REJECTED 285 
 
 Then above the hum of conversation General 
 Brady's voice was heard: 
 
 " Gentlemeri, it is my opinion that we have lost a 
 great man to-night, a fearless man and a Christian 
 gentleman." 
 
 " That's my entire prognostication, General," said 
 Ike, with great emphasis. 
 
 Meantime Shock had gone searching through tht 
 hotels for the doctor, whom he had seen slipping out 
 before the closing prayer, But the doctor was no- 
 where to be seen, and in despair Shock went to Father 
 Mike. He found that gentleman in a state of enthu- 
 siastic excitement. " My dear fellow, my dear fel- 
 low," he exclaimed, " that was great ! " 
 
 " What? " said Shock simply. 
 
 " That sermon, man. I would give my hand to 
 preach like that." 
 
 "Preach?" said Shock. " I didn't preach. Did 
 you see the doctor? " 
 
 "Never mind the doctor," said Father Mike. 
 " Come in, I want to talk with you ; come in." 
 
 " No, I must see the doctor." 
 
 " Well, then, wait ; I will go with you." 
 
 Shock hesitated. " I think I would rather go alone, 
 if you don't mind," he said. 
 
 "Ail right, old chap," said father Mike, "I 
 understand. The door's always open and the ket- 
 tle on." 
 
 " Thank you," said Shock. " You know how I ap- 
 preciate that," and he went out. 
 
 There was a light in Macfarren's office. Shock 
 
86 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 knocked at the door and went in. He found the 
 doctor and Macfarren seated by a table, upon which 
 were glasses and a bottle. The doctor was pale, nerv- 
 ous, shaking. 
 
 " Sit down, Mr. Macgregor," said Macfarren, witi 
 more cordiality than he had ever shown to Shock be* 
 fore. " I was just saying to the doctor that that wai 
 a fine discourse, a very able discourse, Mr. Mac* 
 gregor." 
 
 Shock made no reply, but stood looking at the 
 doctor. 
 
 " I would like to say," continued Macfarren, " that 
 I regret your leaving us. I believe, on the whole, it is 
 a mistake; we require preaching like that." There 
 was a touch of real earnestness in Macf arren's tone. 
 
 " Mr. Macfarren," said Shock, " I am sorry I 
 have not been able to help you. You need help, you 
 need help badly. Jesus Christ can help you. Good- 
 night." He took the doctor's arm and, helping him 
 up, walked off with him. 
 
 " What do you want ? " said the doctor fiercely, 
 when they were outside. 
 
 " Doctor, I want your help. I feel weak." 
 
 " Weak ! Great Heavens above ! You talk of 
 weakness ? Don't mock me ! " 
 
 " It is true, doctor ; come along." 
 
 " Where are you going? " said the doctor. 
 
 " I don't know," said Shock. " Let us go to your 
 office." 
 
 ^he doctor's office was a cheerless room, dusty, 
 disordered, and comfortless. The doctor sat down 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 287 
 
 in a chair, laid his head on the table, and groaned. " It 
 is no good, it is no good. I tried, I tried honestly. 
 I prayed, I even hoped for a time this is all gone! 
 I broke my word, I betrayed my trust even to the 
 dead. All is lost!" 
 
 " Doctor," said Shock quietly, " I wish that you 
 would look at me and tell me what's the matter with 
 me. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, and yet I am weary. 
 I feel weak and useless cannot you help me? " 
 
 The doctor looked at him keenly. " You're not 
 playing with me, are you? No, by Jove! you are 
 not. You do look bad let me look at you." His 
 professional interest was aroused. He turned up the 
 lamp and examined Shock thoroughly. 
 
 "What have you been doing? What's the cause 
 of this thing ? " he enquired, at length, as if he feared 
 to ask. 
 
 Shock gave him an account of his ten days' experi- 
 ence in the mountains, sparing nothing. The doctor 
 listened in an agony of self-reproach. 
 
 "It was my fault," he groaned, "it was all my 
 fault." 
 
 " Not a word of that, doctor, please. It was not in 
 your hands or in mine. The Lost River is lost, not by 
 any man's fault, but by the will of God. Now, tell 
 me, what do I need? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing at all but rest and sleep. Rest 
 for a week," said the doctor. 
 
 "Well, then," said Shock, "I want you to come 
 and look after me for a week. I need you; you need 
 me ; we'll help each other." 
 
288 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 "Oh, God! Oh, God!" groaned the doctor, 
 " what is the use? You know there is no use." 
 
 "Doctor, I told you before that you are saying 
 what is both false and foolish." 
 
 " I remember," said the doctor bitterly. " You 
 spoke of common sense and honesty." 
 
 " Yes, and I say so again," replied Shock. " Com- 
 mon sense and honesty is what you need. Listen I 
 am not going to preach, I am done with that for to- 
 night but you know as well as I do that when a man 
 faces the right way God is ready to back him up. 
 It is common sense to. bank on that, isn't it? Com- 
 mon sense, and nothing else. But I want to say this, 
 you've got to be honest with God. You've not been 
 fair. You say you've prayed " 
 
 " God knows I have," said the doctor. 
 
 "Yes," said Shock, with a touch of scorn in his 
 voice, "you've prayed, and then you went into the 
 same old places and with the same old companions, 
 and so you find yourself where you are to-night. 
 You cannot cure any man of disease if he breaks every 
 regulation you make when your back is turned. Give 
 God a chance, that's all I ask. Be decently square 
 with Him. There's lots of mystery in religion, but 
 it is not there. Come along now, you are going 
 home with me." 
 
 " No, sir," said the doctor decidedly. " I shall 
 fight it out alone. 
 
 " Will you walk, or shall I carry you? " said Shock 
 quietly. 
 
 The doctor gazed at him. " Oh, confound you ! " 
 
EJECTED AND REJECTED 289 
 
 he cried, " I'll He stopped short and putting 
 
 his face down upon the table again he burst into a 
 storm of sobs and cried, " Oh, I am weak, I am weak, 
 let me go, let me go, I am not worth it ! " 
 
 Then Shock got down beside him, put his arm 
 around his shoulder, and said : " I cannot let you go, 
 doctor. I want you. And your Father in Heaven 
 wants you. Come," he continued after a pause, 
 " we'll win yet." 
 
 For half an hour they walked the streets and then 
 turned into Father Mike's quarters. 
 
 " Father Mike," said Shock, opening the door, " we 
 want coffee, and I'm hungrier than I've been for three 
 days." 
 
 " Come in," said Father Mike, with a keen glance 
 at the doctor, " come in, brother mine. You've 
 earned your grub this day." 
 
XVI, 
 8< STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 
 
 RELIEVED from his station at the Fort, 
 Shock was able to devote himself entirely to 
 the western part of his field, which em- 
 braced the Loon Lake district and extended 
 twenty-five miles up to the Pass, and he threw 
 himself with redoubled energy into his work of ex- 
 ploration and organisation. Long ago his little 
 cayuse had been found quite unequal to the task of 
 keeping pace with the tremendous energy of his 
 driver, and so for the longer journeys Shock had come 
 to depend mainly upon Bob, the great rangey sorrel 
 sent him by the Hamilton boys, the only condition 
 attached to the gift being that he should allow Bob 
 to visit the ranch at least once a month. And so it 
 came that Shock and his sorrel broncl j became widely 
 known over the ranges of all that country. Many a 
 little shack in far away valleys, where a woman with 
 her children lived in isolated seclusion from all the 
 world, he discovered and brought into touch with the 
 world about, and by means of books and magazines 
 and illustrated papers brought to hearts sick with 
 longing some of the colour and brightness from the 
 great world beyond, so often fondly longed for. Many 
 a cowboy, wild and reckless, with every link of kin- 
 
 290 
 
" 
 
 STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 291 
 
 ship broken, an unrelated unit of humanity keeping 
 lonely watch over his bunch of cattle, found in Shock 
 a friend, and established through him anew a bond 
 with human society. The hour spent with Shock in 
 riding around the cattle often brought to this bit of 
 human driftwood a new respect for himself, a new 
 sense of responsibility for life, and a new estimate of 
 the worth of his manhood. Away up in the Pass, too, 
 where the miners lived and wrought under conditions 
 wretched; debasing, and fraught with danger, and 
 where in the forest-camps the lumbermen lived lives 
 more wholesome, but more lonely, Shock found scope 
 for the full energy of his passion to help and serve. 
 
 " A hospital is what they need up here, doctor ! w 
 he exclaimed one day after they had made a tour 
 through the shacks and bunks where men sick and in- 
 jured lay in their uncared for misery. " A hospital 
 is what they want, and some kind of a homelike place 
 where they can meet together. And by God's help 
 we'll get this, too, when our hands are somewhat free, 
 We have all we can do for the next few weeks.** And 
 so they had. 
 
 Shock had early recognised that the evils which 
 were so rampant, and that exercised such a baneful in* 1 
 fluence in the community, were due not so much to 
 any inherent love of vice as to the conditions under 
 which the men were forced to live. Life was a lonely 
 thing on the ranges, without colour, without variety, 
 and men plunged into debauchery from sheer desperate 
 reaction from monotony. Shock believed that, if 
 there could be established a social centre offering m^ 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 tellectual interest and physical recreation, much could 
 be done to banish the vices that were fast becoming 
 imbedded in the very life and character of the people. 
 And so he planned the erection of a building that 
 would serve for church, manse, club-house, school- 
 room, and library, and would thus become a spot 
 around which the life of the community might gather 
 in a clean and wholesome atmosphere. He appealed 
 to the Church Manse Building Fund for a grant, he 
 drew his plans for his building, and throughout the 
 summer quietly set about gathering his materials. 
 One and another of his friends he would persuade to 
 haul a load of logs from the hills, and with good' 
 natured persistence he would get a day's work now and 
 again from the young fellows who frequently had 
 more time on their hands than they knew how 
 to reasonably make use of, with the result that before 
 they were well aware of what was being done a log 
 building stood ready for the roofing and plaster. His 
 success stimulated his friends to more organised and 
 continued effort. They began to vie with each other 
 in making contributions of work and material for the 
 new building. Macnamara furnished linre, Martin 
 drew sand, Sinclair and The Kid, who had the best 
 horses and wagons, drew lumber from the mill at the 
 Fort ; and by the time summer was gone the building, 
 roofed, chinked, and plastered, only required a few 
 finishing touches to be ready for the opening. In- 
 deed, it was a most creditable structure. It was a 
 large,, roomy, two-story building, the downstairs of 
 which was given up to a room to be devoted to public 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 398 
 
 uses. The upstairs Shock planned to contain four 
 bed-rooms. 
 
 " What do you want of four bed-rooms, Mr. Pros- 
 pector? " said Ike, as they were laying out the space. 
 " You can't sleep in more'n three of 'em at a time." 
 
 " No, but you can sleep in one, Ike, and some of the 
 boys in another, and I want one myself." 
 
 " Oh 1 " said Ike, much pleased. " Going to run a 
 kind of stoppin' place, are you? " 
 
 " Yes ; I hope my friends will stop with me often." 
 " Guess you won't have much trouble with that side 
 of it," said Ike. "And this here room," he contin- 
 ued, " will do first rate for a kind of lumber-room, 
 provisions, and harness, and such like, I guess? " 
 
 " No," said Shock. " This room will be the finest 
 room in the house. See : it will look away out toward 
 the south and west, over the lake, and up to the moun- 
 tains. The inside of the room won't be hard to beat, 
 but the outside cannot be equalled in all the world, and 
 I tell you what, Ike, it cannot be too good, for this 
 room is for my mother." There was a reverent, ten- 
 der tone in Shock's voice that touched Ike. 
 
 " Is she really goin' to come out here ? " he asked, 
 f I hope so," said Shock. " Next spring." 
 " I say," said Ike, " won't she find it lonely? " 
 " 1 don't think so," said Shock, with a curious 
 smile. " You know, my mother is rather peculiar. For 
 twenty-five years, without missing a single night, she 
 came into my room to kiss me before I went to sleep, 
 and she's just that foolish that if I'm anywhere 
 around I don't think she'll be lonely." And then 
 
194 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Shock proceeded to give Ike a picture of his mother* 
 and all her devotion to him through the long years of 
 his life. The rough but tender-hearted cowboy was 
 more touched than he cared to show. 
 
 " Say," he said, when Shock had finished, " how 
 did you ever come to leave her? I couldn't 'a 5 done 
 it, nohow." 
 
 " She sent me," said Shock simply, " There's One 
 she loves better than me." And Ike understood with" 
 out more explanation. 
 
 For the furnishing of the house, and for the equip- 
 ment of the library and club-rooms, Shock had ap- 
 pealed to his friends in the East through Brown, to 
 whom he gave a full description of the building and 
 the purposes for which it had been erected. The re- 
 sponse was so hearty and so generous that, when the 
 loads of house-furnishings, books, magazines, and 
 papers arrived, Shock's heart was full to overflowing 
 with gratitude, and, when a little later he received 
 notice that a cabinet organ had arrived at the railroad 
 depot, he felt that the difficulties and trials of a mis- 
 sionary's life were few and small in comparison with 
 the triumphs and rewards. 
 
 At length everything was in place and the building 
 ready for the opening. The preparations for this 
 great event were in the hands of a committee, of which 
 The Kid was chairman; the decorations were left to 
 Ike and Perault ; the programme was left to The Rid, 
 assisted by Marion, who had been persuaded riot only 
 to sing, herself, but had agreed to train the school 
 children in some action songs. There was to be 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 295 
 
 grand supper, of course, nothing Western would be 
 complete without that feature, and in addition to 
 the ordinary speeches and musical numbers there was 
 to be a nigger-minstrel show with clog-dancing fur- 
 nished by the miners and lumbermen from the Pass, at 
 Shock's urgent invitation. The whole affair was to 
 be wound up by a grand promenade headed by young 
 Malcolm Forbes, son of a Highland chief, a shy young 
 fellow whom Shock had dug up from a remote valley, 
 and who was to appear in full Highland costume with 
 his pipes. Small wonder that the whole community, 
 from the Fort to the Pass, was tingling with delighted 
 anticipation. Such an event was not only important 
 of itself, but it was hailed as the inauguration of 
 a new era in the country, for with church, school, 
 library, and club they would be abreast of the 
 most advanced Eastern civilisation. 
 
 Not only were the people of the Loon Lake district 
 stirred with interest in the opening of their new build- 
 ing, but to a far greater extent than they knew their 
 confidence and even their affection had gathered about 
 the man to whose energy the whole enterprise was due. 
 During these months they had come to rely upon his 
 judgment as a man of affairs, to trust him for his true 
 human heart, and to regard him with reverence as one 
 touched with a spirit unlike that of the world with 
 which they were familiar a spirit of generous sym- 
 pathy with them in all their multitudinous trials and 
 difficulties, a spirit that made him think nothing of 
 himself and much of them. He represented to them 
 religion in a manner at once winning and impress- 
 
296 THE PROSPECTOR, 
 
 ive, as few of them had ever seen it represented 
 before. 
 
 At length the great day came, and with it the gath- 
 ering of the people from all parts far and near. A 
 few farmers who lived toward the Fort came with their 
 wives and children in horse-wagons and ox-wagons; 
 the ranchers with their families drove for the most 
 part in democrats and buckboards; but many of the 
 ranchers and their wives and all the cowboys came 
 on horseback. There had never been such a gather- 
 ing at Loon Lake within the memory of the oldest 
 timer. The preparations for supper were elaborate 
 and impressive. It was important that this part of 
 the evening's proceedings should go off well. As 
 Shock, passing up and down, witnessed the abound- 
 ing hilarity of those who thronged the supper-tables 
 his mind was relieved of all anxiety as to the success 
 of the entertainment to follow. With great difficulty 
 Sinclair, who was a shy man, was persuaded to pre- 
 side as chairman. It was only the promise of Shock 
 to support him on the one side and of Father Mike, 
 who was almost as much interested in the success of 
 the entertainment as Shock himself, on the other, that 
 induced Sinclair finally to accept this responsible and 
 honourable position. It was indeed an hour of triumph 
 to Shock and his fellow-workers, and as the entertain- 
 ment progressed they gathered satisfaction to the full 
 from the manifestations of delight on the part of the 
 audience that packed the building to the doors. 
 
 After the entertainment had well begun a stranger 
 appeared at the door asking for the minister. 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 297 
 
 " Well," said Ike, who was performing the respon- 
 sible duty of door-keeper, " you can't see him, not 
 now. What's required? " 
 
 " I guess it's pretty important," the stranger said. 
 " It's a telegram. In fact, it's bad news, so Mr. Mc- 
 Intyre of Big River said." 
 
 " Bad news ! " exclaimed Ike. " Mighty bad time 
 to bring bad news. Why couldn't you wait?" 
 
 " Some things can't wait," said the man briefly. 
 " Guess you'd better read it, it's open." 
 
 " Not me," said Ike, shrinking from this liberty. 
 Send for The Kid." 
 
 In a few moments The Kid appeared and, taking 
 the telegram from Ike, read it. 
 
 " The Lord help us ! " he exclaimed as he read the 
 wire. He took Ike to one side away from the crowd 
 and read him the words : " ' Your mother seriously 
 ill. Doctors hold out no hope of recovery. Signed, 
 BROWN.' " 
 
 " His mother ! Bay, boss, what'll we do ? He thinks 
 a mighty lot of his mother. I've heerd him talk. This 
 will purty nigh kill him, I guess." 
 
 They stood for some moments looking blankly at 
 each other, unwilling to deliver the blow which they 
 knew would strike deep into the heart of the man they 
 had come to love. 
 
 " He must be told," said The Kid at length. " Let's 
 see he'll want to get to the end of the line, anyway, 
 and that's over a hundred miles from here. I say, Ike, 
 you'd better tell him, I guess." 
 
 "Well," said Ike slowly, "that there's a purty 
 
298 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 particular bit of diplomatics, and I aint used to 
 it. I say," with a sudden inspiration, " you tell 
 him." 
 
 " Couldn't do it, Ike. How would it do to get 
 Father Mike or Sinclair? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ike meditatively, " they'd do all right 
 if we weren't here, but I guess we belong to him 'most 
 more than they do," 
 
 " That's so, Ike," said The Kid quickly. That's 
 so; it's one of us." 
 
 " Yes, it's one of us," said Ike, " and if I could 
 do it well, boss, you wouldn't see no buck." 
 
 " All right, Ike," said The Kid, drawing a long 
 breath. " I'll do it." 
 
 " I'll remember it, boss," said Ike. " Guess there 
 aint much time to lose. How is he agoin' to git 
 there?" 
 
 " Take the Swallow, Ike," said The Kid. " She's 
 good for a hundred miles." 
 
 " Mr. Mclntyre's team will be ready to go from 
 his place," said the stranger, who had come near. 
 
 " Good! " said The Kid. " Where are you going, 
 Ike?" 
 
 " To git the horses. He'll want to git right off. 
 I guess I'll put him on Slipper, and I'll take the Swal- 
 low. Slipper rides purty easy, and he's a purty big 
 man." 
 
 " All right, Ike," said The Kid. " Remember every 
 minute is precious. Here, Mac," he continued, turn- 
 ing to Macnamara, who stood looking in at the door, 
 craning his neck to see and hear what was going on, 
 
S *STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 299 
 
 ^ slip around to the side door and tell Mr. Macgregor 
 that I want him right away." 
 
 In a few minutes Shock came running out in high 
 spirits, elated with the success of the evening. " Hello, 
 old boy ! " he cried to The Kid. " It's great, isn't it? 
 You're a great concert conductor ! What do you want 
 me for ? " 
 
 The Kid took him by the arm and led him away an 
 silence toward the Old Prospector's shack, which stood 
 near by. 
 
 " What's the matter, Stanton ; anything gone 
 wrong? " Still The Kid made no reply ; but, walking 
 to the door of the shack, opened it, and went in and lit 
 the lamp. " Sit down," he said, pushing Shock into 
 a chair. " I have something to tell you. There's- 
 there's bad news, I'm afraid. I'll wait outside.'* He 
 put the telegram down, went hastily out, and closed 
 the door, leaving Shock to face the blow where no eye 
 could see. 
 
 It seemed an hour to The Kid before Ike came up 
 with the Swallow and Slipper saddled and ready for 
 the journey. 
 
 'Where is he?" said Ike^ in a whisper. 
 
 " In there," replied The Kid, with a groan. " God 
 help him ! " 
 
 " I guess He will. He ought to," said Ike gravely. 
 
 " Got grub, Ike, and blankets? " 
 
 Ike nodded, pointing to the sack strapped to the 
 saddle. 
 
 " He ought to start," said The Kid nervously 
 w That wire's two days old now. It will take till to* 
 
300 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 morrow night to reach town even if everything goes 
 right, and every moment counts. Better go in," he 
 continued, " and tell him the horses are ready." 
 
 Ike nodded and went toward the closed door, opened 
 it softly, and went in. He found Shock sitting at the 
 table gazing vacantly at the telegram in his hand 
 as if trying to take in its meaning, He looked up 
 at Ike as he entered and, handing him the telegram, 
 said: 
 
 " It's my mother, Ike. Do you remember my 
 mother? " 
 
 " Yes, I know," replied Ike, approaching him tim- 
 idly and laying a hand awkwardly on his shoulder. 
 " I don't want to presume," he continued, " but I was 
 wonderin' if there was anyone who could help you to 
 stand it?" 
 
 " There is, there is One, there is." 
 
 " That's all right, then," said Ike, as if an im- 
 portant matter had been settled. " The horses are 
 ready." 
 
 " The horses ? " said Shock, with a puzzled air. 
 
 " Yes ; thought you'd want to ride to town to get 
 to send a wire or somethin'." 
 
 " Of course I do ; thank you. I'll go to her at once. 
 What a fool I ami" He rose hastily as he spoke, 
 changed his coat, and getting his hat and riding 
 gloves came out to where The Kid stood with the 
 horses. 
 
 "Why, it's the Swallow, and Slipper I" he said. 
 " Boys, this is good of you." 
 
 The Kid stood without a word, looking at Shock's 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD 59 801 
 
 white, dazed face. He could not trust his voice to 
 speak. 
 
 " You'd best get onto Slipper," said Ike. Hides 
 easy and is mighty sure. The Swallow's all right, of 
 course," he continued apologetically to The Kid, " but 
 a leetle light." 
 
 " But I don't want both," said Shock. 
 
 "Oh! I guess I'll go along," declared Ike. "I 
 know the trails and short-cuts a little better. Can 
 save time, perhaps. That is," he added, " if you 
 don't mind my goin' along." 
 
 " That's awfully good of you, Ike," said ShocL 
 " I shall be glad to have you." 
 
 " Good-bye, Kiddie," said Shock affectionately* 
 holding out his hand to The Kid, " I cannot say 
 much just now, but I appreciate this kindness, my 
 boy." 
 
 " Don't, don't ! " said The Kid, in a husky whisper. 
 ** I wish to Heaven I could help you. Good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye," said Shock, taking up the reins. " Oh ! 
 I say, Kid, don't tell anyone to-night. Keep the thing 
 going ; it would be a pity to spoil their fun, you know. 
 You can do this for me, can't you ? '* 
 
 " I can try," said The Kid, setting his teeth to- 
 gether. 
 
 He stood looking after them as they went up the 
 trail in the moonlight. " Oh ! this cursed country ! w 
 he groaned. " It's so far from any place. He'D 
 never see her again, I'm sure. Well, I must keep this 
 thing going as I promised. But some of the numbers 
 FILcut out, you can bet." 
 
S08 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Straight on through the moonlight rode the two 
 men, the one trying to make real the words that 
 marched with ceaseless tramp across his brain : " Doc- 
 tors hold out no hope of recovery." They seemed 
 like words of fire written across the prairie. The other, 
 riding a little behind, except where the trail grew 
 difficult or indistinct, silent but alert for opportunity 
 to offer aid or show sympathy, governing carefully 
 the pace so that the best possible speed could be got 
 out of the superb animals that with their swinging 
 lope covered the long slopes up and down. The mem- 
 ory of that ride to Shock in after years was like that 
 of a ghastly nightmare, a strange intermingling of 
 moonlight and shadow ; the murmur of the night wind 
 about his ears ; the steady beat of the hoofs upon the 
 beaten trail ; the pause at midnight by the upper ford 
 of the Black Bog to feed and rest their horses; and 
 then the steady onward push through the night till 
 the grey and gold of the eastern sky told that the 
 morning had come. He could never forget how the 
 first beams of the rising sun smote his eyes like the 
 cut of a whip till he was almost forced to cry out in 
 his pain. He remembered how it seemed to him as if 
 he were in the grip of some mysterious force impelling 
 him onward in that unending, relentless lope. An- 
 other pause at sunrise to give the horses breath, and 
 then on again they rode through that terrible red light 
 of the rising sun, till at length in the still early fore- 
 noon the manse of Big River was reached. Their 
 horses were jaded and leg- weary, for in the thirteen 
 hours during which they had kept up their long, 
 
*<STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD 9f SOS 
 
 swinging gait they had covered more than a hundred 
 miles. 
 
 The Melntyres were expecting them. 
 
 " We won't speak about his mother, dear," said the 
 little woman of the manse, with a warm feeling in her 
 heart for the missionary who had spent a night with 
 them some seven months ago, and had told them so 
 simply and fully of his life, a story of which the 
 heart and soul had been his mother. " It hurts to 
 speak of these things for a while," she added. 
 
 " Yes, my darling, I know," said her husband, 
 his eyes lingering tenderly upon the face looking so 
 sweet, but so wan and pale above the black dress and 
 crepe collar. " We know, we know, darling," he re- 
 peated, taking her in his arms. They were both 
 thinking of the little mound looking so small upon 
 the wide prairie, small but big enough to hold all their 
 heart's treasure. For five months the manse had been 
 overrunning with heaven's own light; and with joy 
 that rippled and flowed from baby laughter, that 
 lurked in dimpled fingers and dimpled toes and dim* 
 pled cheeks, every dimple a well of light and joy 
 and then the little mound with its white railing, and 
 only the echoes of the laughter and the memory of 
 the dimpled fingers, toes, and cheeks, and the empty 
 manse ! It was this memory that made their welcome 
 of Shock so full of tender understanding. There is 
 no speech like heart-speech, and during the hour in 
 the Big River manse to Shock's heart there came 
 how he could not have told the inarticulate message 
 of sympathy that healed and comforted, so that ha 
 
804 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 drove away rested and refreshed as with sleep. As 
 they were hitching up the team Ike found opportunity 
 to whisper to Shock : " I say, p'rhaps you'd rather 
 he'd go with you; he'd help you more, p'rhaps? " 
 
 " No, no, Ike ; don't leave me ; I want you," Shock 
 had replied. 
 
 " All right, boss ; that suits me," was Ike's answer, 
 glad that his offer had not been accepted. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Mr. Mclntyre, waving his hand. 
 M Do not spare them, Ike," he continued. " They 
 can make Spruce Creek in two hours and a half 
 easily." 
 
 " I'll take care o' them," said Ike, swinging the 
 fiery, half-broken bronchos onto the trail. " They'd 
 ought to do a little better than that, I judge." And 
 they did; for, when the buckboard drew up at the 
 Spruce Creek Stopping Place Ike remarked to Bill 
 Lee, who stood in his usual position leaning against 
 the door : " Two hours from Big River, and not much 
 the worse, I guess." 
 
 Bill's welcome of Shock was almost effusive in 
 its heartiness, but Ike cut him short. 
 
 " I say, Bill," he called out, walking to the stable ; 
 " got any oats in here ? " 
 
 " Oh, a few. I keep some for thoroughbreds, you 
 know." And he walked after Ike into the stable. 
 
 Ike began talking rapidly and in a low tone. As 
 Bill listened he became unusually excited. " Eh ! 
 What! No. Say, that's bad, too blank bad! His 
 mother, eh? My team? Certainly. There they are, 
 fit for a good dozen an hour. Put 'em right in." 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD 005 
 
 In ten minutes Bill's team, the pride of his heart, 
 were hitched to the blackboard. 
 
 " All right, Bill," said Ike, taking the reins, 
 
 " All right, Ike," replied Bill. " Their skin don 5 ! 
 say much, but they can talk with their feet a few. 
 Let 'em go. They won't run away," 
 
 The performance of Bill's bony, shaggy team more 
 than justified their owner's promise. They did " talk 
 with their feet," and to such good purpose that in 
 less than two hours Shock stood at the door of his Con- 
 vener's house, his mind bewildered, his senses numbed 
 from the terrible strain through which he had passed. 
 
 " Come in, my dear fellow," said the Convener, who 
 had evidently been expecting him, " come right in." 
 
 But Shock stood at the door. " Is there any 
 word? " he enquired, with a voice void of all emotion* 
 
 " Nothing further." 
 
 " When does the train go ? " 
 
 " The train ? Oh, at two in the morning." 
 
 " How long does it take?" 
 
 " Five days." 
 
 " Five days ! " echoed Shock, in a voice of despair. 
 
 " You might wire a message in the meantime," said 
 the Convener kindly. " We will go down to the tele- 
 graph office after you have had a rest and a cup of 
 tea." 
 
 " No, no," said Shock, turning eagerly from the 
 door. " I am all right; cannot we go now? " 
 
 At the telegraph office a number of men stood 
 laughing and talking. Shock drew a blank sheet 
 toward him and set himself to compose his wire. Again 
 
$06 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 and again he made the attempt, but at length he put 
 down the pen and looked around piteously at his 
 friend. " I cannot say it ! " he exclaimed in a hurried 
 whisper. 
 
 " Come outside a minute," said the Convener, tak- 
 ing his arm. " Now tell me what you want to say 
 and perhaps I can help you." 
 
 "Oh!" cried Shock, wreathing his great fingers 
 in his agony. " I want to say good-bye No, no, 
 not that! I want to tell her give her my love and 
 say I want to see her. She will be wanting me." His 
 breath began to come in great heaving sobs. 
 
 " Let me try," said his friend. " You stay out 
 here." 
 
 After some moments the Convener returned and 
 handed Shock a paper on which he had written : " God 
 keep you, mother dear. My heart's love to you. Shall 
 I come?" 
 
 " Will that do? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; thank you. That is good." 
 
 " Now," said the Convener, when' they had reached 
 the house, " you must rest." 
 
 " I am not tired," said Shock, as if in surprise. 
 
 " My dear fellow, you are half dead." 
 
 " No, I am quite right, and besides, there's Ike. 1 
 ought to look after Ike." 
 
 " Don't you worry about Ike," said the Convener. 
 "He's able to look after himself; besides I'll look 
 him up when I get you to sleep. Come now," and he 
 led him into the tiny bedroom. " You get into bed ; 
 I'll bring you a cup of tea and you can sleep, Na 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 307 
 
 one will disturb you, and I'll wake you at the right 
 time, never fear." 
 
 " I don't think I am sleepy,' 5 said Shock ; but when 
 in a few minutes his friend came back with his cup of 
 tea he found Shock in a sleep so profound that he 
 had not the heart to wake him. " Poor chap, poor 
 chap ! " said the Convener, looking down upon the 
 strong, rugged face, now so haggard. " This is a 
 hard country ! " 
 
 For hours Shock lay dead in sleep. Before night- 
 fall the Convener went to look up Ike, and on his re- 
 turn found his guest still asleep. " Let him sleep, it 
 will do him good," he said to his kind-hearted wife, 
 who would have wakened Shock to have supper. 
 " We'll let him sleep till an answer comes to his wire." 
 
 Late at night he went down to the telegraph 
 office. 
 
 " Yes," replied the clerk in answer to his enquiry $ 
 " there's a wire for Mr. Macgregor just come in. Bad 
 news, too, I guess," 
 
 The Convener took the message and read: 
 
 "Your mother passed away in perfect peace this 
 evening. Your message brought her great joy. She 
 wished me to send this reply : * The Lord is my 
 Shepherd ; I shall not want. Stay at your post, lad, 
 till He calls.' " HELEN." 
 
 " ' Stay at your post till He calls,' " read the Con- 
 vener again. "A great soul that. That word wiB 
 do him good," 
 
308 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 He was right. He found Shock waiting for him, 
 calm, expectant, and ready to bear whatever life 
 might bring, nor did his face change as he read the 
 wire over and over again. He only said : " God is 
 very good to us. She went away in peace, and she 
 got my wire and I hers," 
 
 " Yes," said the Convener, " God is always good. 
 We sometimes cannot see it, but," he added, " it was 
 a great matter that your sister could have been there 
 with her." , 
 
 "My sister?" said Shock. "Oh!" a sudden 
 flush reddening his pale cheek. " She's not my sister 
 she's my she's our friend, yes, a dear friend. It 
 would be a great joy to my mother to have her." 
 
 There was no sign of grief in his face, but a great 
 peace seemed to have settled upon him. Long mto 
 the night he talked over the affairs of his mission field, 
 giving in response to the keen questions of his Con- 
 vener a full account of the work he had been carrying 
 on, opening up the plans he had made for future 
 work. In particular was he anxious to enlist the Con- 
 vener's sympathy in his scheme for a reading-room 
 and hospital at the Pass. The Convener shook his 
 head at the plan. " I agree with you entirely," he 
 said, " but the Committee, I fear, will not give you a 
 grant for a hospital. " If it were a church now " 
 
 " Well," argued Shock, " it will serve for a church." 
 
 " You may count on me to do my best for you," 
 replied the Convener, " but I am not sanguine. The 
 Committee are extremely cautious and conservative." 
 But when the Convener came to ask about the difficul- 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 309 
 
 ties and trials of his life his missionary became silent. 
 There were no trials and difficulties to speak of, no 
 more at least than the rest of the people had to bear. 
 They were all good to him. 
 
 " That's all right," said the Convener, " but there 
 are difficulties, none the less. It is a hard country, 
 and sometimes it lays burdens upon us almost greater 
 than we can bear. There are the poor Mclntyres, 
 now," he continued. " How did you find them? " 
 
 "Very well," replied Shock. "But, indeed, I 
 didn't notice much." 
 
 And then the Convener told him of the story of their 
 great grief. 
 
 " It is a common enough story in this country. 
 The little baby was five months old, singularly bright 
 and attractive. Mclntyre himself was quite foolish 
 about it; and, indeed, the whole congregation were 
 quite worked up over it. Took suddenly ill, some 
 mysterious trouble; no doctor within forty miles; 
 before he arrived the baby was gone. They were 
 dreadfully cut up about it." 
 
 'I I never noticed," said Shock, with a sense of 
 shame. *' I wasn't thinking." 
 
 There was no demonstration of sympathy on the 
 part of his people when Shock returned to his work. 
 One by one they came up after the evening service to 
 shake hands with him and then to leave him alone. 
 But that night, when all had gone except Ike, who was 
 hovering about downstairs within call of Shock, who 
 was sitting upstairs alone in the room which, in the 
 
810. THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 fulness of his joy, he had set apart for his mother, a 
 voice was heard asking cautiously: 
 
 "Is he in?" 
 
 i6 Yes, but I guess he's pretty tired," replied Ike 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " I'd like to see him a minute," replied the voice., 
 with a sudden huskiness, 
 
 "Oh! It's you, is it?" said Ike. "Well, come 
 in. Yes, come right upstairs." And Carroll came 
 heavily up the stairs with Patsy in his arms. 
 
 " Why, Carroll, this is awfully good of you ! " ex- 
 claimed Shock, going to meet him. 
 
 "It's the little lad," said Carroll. "It's Patsy; 
 he's breakin' the heart av him, an' he wants to see you, 
 
 and, your riverince, it's meself I want to " The 
 
 voice broke down completely. 
 
 " Come in, come in ! " cried Shock, his tears flowing 
 fast. " Come, Patsy, do you want to see me? Come 
 on, old chap, I want you, too." He took the little 
 cripple hi his arms and held him tight while his tears 
 fell upon Patsy's face and hands. 
 
 " Is it for your mother? " whispered Patsy, in an 
 awestruck tone. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Patsy dear," said Shock, who was fast 
 losing control of himself, the long pent-up -grief 
 breaking through all barriers of self-control. " She's 
 gone from me, Patsy lad." 
 
 " But," said the little boy, lifting up his beautiful 
 face in wonder. " Sure, isn't she wid Jesus Himself 
 and the blessed angels ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, Patsy, my boy ! she is, and it's not right 
 
 I 
 
"STAY AT YOUR POST, LAD" 31! 
 
 to grieve too much, but I cannot help it,' 9 said Shock 9 
 regaining control of himself. " But I am glad you 
 came in to tell me, and we'll all try to be good men so 
 that some day we'll all go there, too." 
 
 For a long time they sat looking out on the moon- 
 lit lake and the distant hills, Shock telling the little 
 lad he held in his arms of the beautiful country to 
 which his mother had gone. 
 
 That night was the beginning of better things for 
 the big Irishman. The revenge he had cherished for 
 so many months passed out of his heart, and among 
 his closest friends and his warmest companions Shock 
 could count from that time forth Tim Carroll. 
 
XVII 
 BETTY'S LAST WORDS 
 
 THERE is a certain stimulus in grief which 
 lends unreal strength to endure, but Nature 
 will be avenged in a physical and emotional 
 reaction, all the more terrible that it is unex- 
 pected. Then the full weight of the sorrow presses 
 upon the heart already exhausted, and the sense of loss 
 becomes the more painful because it can be fairly esti- 
 mated, and the empty place can be more truly meas- 
 ured because it is seen in its relation to the ordinary 
 life. 
 
 So it was with Shock. The first sharp stab of grief 
 was over, and now he carried with him the long ache 
 of a wound that would not heal for many a day. His 
 mother had filled a large part of his life. As far 
 back into childhood as his memory could go, there she 
 stood between him and the great world, his sure de- 
 fence against all evil, his refuge in all sorrow ; and as 
 he grew into manhood she made for herself a larger 
 and larger place in his thought and in his life. He 
 well knew how she had toiled and denied herself com- 
 forts and endured hardships that he might gain that 
 height of every Scottish mother's ambition for her son, 
 a college education, and he gave her full reward in the 
 love of his heart and the thoughtful devotion of his 
 life. All his interests and occupations, his studies, his 
 
 312 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 318 
 
 mission work in the Ward, his triumphs on the football 
 field, all he shared with her, and until the last year no 
 one had ever challenged her place of supremacy in his 
 heart. His future was built about his mother. She 
 was to share his work, her home was to be in his manse, 
 she was to be the centre about which his life would 
 swing ; and since coming to the West he had built up in 
 imagination a new life structure, in which his mother 
 had her own ancient place. In this new and fasci- 
 nating work of exploring, organising, and upbuilding 
 he felt sure, too, of his mother's eager sympathy and 
 her wise understanding. 
 
 It had been the happiest of all his fancies that his 
 mother should preside over the new home, the opening 
 of which had been attended with such pride and joy. 
 She would be there to live with him every day, watch- 
 ing him go out and waiting for him to come in. 
 
 Now all that was gone. As his mind ran along its 
 accustomed grooves every turn of thought smote him 
 with a pang sharp and sudden. She was no longer a 
 part of the plan. All had to be taken down, the parts 
 readjusted, the structure rebuilt. He began to un- 
 derstand the Convener's words, " This is a hard 
 country." It demanded a man's life in all the full, 
 deep meaning of the word ; his work, of course of body 
 and brain, but his heart as well, and his heart's 
 treasures. 
 
 In the midst of his depression and bewilderment Ike 
 brought him a letter which had lain two weeks at the 
 Fort, and whose date was now some four weeks old. 
 It was from Brown and ran thus : 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 MY DEAR Ou> CHAP : 
 
 I do not know how to begin this letter. The ter- 
 ribly sudden and awful calamity that has overtaken us 
 has paralysed my mind, and I can hardly think 
 straight. One thing that stands out before me, wip- 
 ing out almost every other thought, is that our dear 
 Betty is no more. You cannot imagine it, I know, for 
 though I saw her in her coffin, so sweet and lovely, but 
 oh! so still, I cannot get myself to believe it. The 
 circumstances concerning her death, too, were awfully 
 sad, so sad that it simply goes beyond any words I 
 have to describe them. I will try to be coherent ; but, 
 though I shall give you an account of what happened, 
 I cannot begin to convey the impression upon my 
 mind. Well, let me try. 
 
 You know Mrs. Fairbanks has been opposed all 
 along to The Don's attentions to Betty, and has tried 
 her best to block him. After you left, the opposition 
 grew more determined. Why, for the life of me, I 
 cannot say. She had apparently made up her mind 
 that The Don must quit. She worked every kind of 
 scheme, but it was no good. That plucky little girl, 
 in her own bright, jolly way, without coming to an 
 open break, would not give back an inch, and The Don 
 kept coming to the house just because Betty insisted. 
 He would have quit long before, poor chap. You 
 know how proud he is. 
 
 Well, Mrs. Fairbanks set to work to gain her pur- 
 pose. She somehow got wind of the kind of life The 
 Don lived in this city years ago. She set enquiries on 
 foot and got hold of the facts pretty well. You know 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 315 
 
 all about it, so I need not tell you. Poor chap, he 
 had his black spots, sure enough. She furthermore 
 got Lloyd somehow to corroborate her facts. Just 
 how much he looked up for her I don't know, but I tell 
 you I have quit Lloyd. He is a blanked cad. I 
 know I should not write this, and you will hate to read 
 it, but it is the truth. His conduct during the whole 
 business has been damnable! damnable! damnable! I 
 gnash my teeth as I write. 
 
 When she had everything ready she sprung her 
 mine. It was in her own house one evening, when 
 Lloyd, The Don, and I were there, and the Fairbanks' 
 new minister, Hooper, a young Trinity man, who has 
 been a close friend of The Don's, I don't know how 
 long, but some years at least. A fine fellow. God 
 bless him, say I, again and again. 
 
 The Don and Betty had been going it pretty strong 
 that evening, rather unnecessarily so, I think; and 
 Mrs. Fairbanks got more and more worked up, until 
 she seemed to lose her head. As The Don was saying 
 good night she spoke up and said in that haughty 
 way of hers, ' c Mr. Balfour, the time has come when 
 we must say good-bye, and I must ask you to discon- 
 tinue your visits to this house, and your intimacy with 
 my daughter." 
 
 Well, we all sat up, I can tell you. The Don went 
 white, and red, and white again. Betty walked over 
 and stood by his side, her eyes all blazing. 
 " Mamma," she cried, " what are you saying against 
 the man I love ! Do you mean to " 
 
 " Betty," said her mother in her haughtiest and 
 
316 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 coldest and calmest voice, " before you go any further, 
 listen to me. I do not choose that my daughter, pure 
 and unsullied, should give herself to a roue and a 
 libertine." 
 
 The Don took a step toward her and said : " Mrs. 
 Fairbanks, someone has misled you. What you say 
 is false, absolutely and utterly false." Betty glanced 
 proudly up into hi* face. 
 
 " False ! " cried Mrs. Fairbanks. " Then, Mr. Bal- 
 four, you force me to ask, did you not live for some 
 months with a woman on Jarvis Street? Were you 
 not a constant visitor at houses of ill repute for months 
 in this city?" 
 
 Poor Don \ I can see him yet. His face grew livid, 
 his eyes staring, as he stood there without a word. 
 
 " Don," cried Betty, " tell her it is false ! " and she 
 lifted her little head proudly. " Tell her it is false, 
 and I don't care who says it is true." Still The Don 
 stood speechless. 
 
 " Alas ! my poor child," said Mrs. Fairbanks, " he 
 could not say so. I have the proof in my hand." And 
 she pulled a letter out of her pocket. " It is true, and 
 much more too true. Mr. Lloyd here knows this to 
 be true. Is it not so, Mr. Lloyd? If this is not true, 
 speak." The poor old Don turned his eyes implor- 
 ingly toward Lloyd, like a man hanging on his last 
 hope, but Lloyd, the beast! mumbled and stuttered 
 something or other. Betty ran to him, caught him 
 by the arm and shook him. " Speak out ! " she said. 
 " Say it is all a lie ! " The Lloyd said in a thick kind 
 of voice, " I cannot say so." 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 311 
 
 Betty turned back to The Don, and may God keep 
 me from ever seeing a face like hers again. " Say it 
 isn't true ! " she said, putting her hand on his arm ; and 
 as he stood still, white and speechless, she gave a kind 
 of cry of fear, and horror, and I don't know what else. 
 " Oh, Don, can this be true and you kissed me ! " 
 
 Then The Don pulled himself together, turned to 
 Mrs. Fairbanks, and began to speak, the words pour- 
 ing out in a perfect torrent. " Mrs. Fairbanks, you 
 must listen to me. What you say was true of me 
 eight years ago. I came here a mere boy. I fell in 
 with a bad lot I had plenty of money, and I confess 
 I went bad. That was eight years ago. Then I met 
 your daughters, and came into your home. From 
 that time I have never done a dishonourable thing, 
 my life has been clean. Ever since I touched your 
 daughter's hand my hands have never touched any- 
 thing unclean. The first day I saw her, eight years 
 ago, I loved her, and since then I have been true in 
 heart and in life to her. For my shameful past God 
 knows I have repented bitterly, bitterly, and have 
 sought forgiveness ; and no man lives in this town, or 
 any other, who can point to anything of which I am 
 ashamed to speak here." 
 
 Poor Betty ! She looked from one to the other in a 
 frightened kind of way, and when The Don had fin- 
 ished his confession she gave a cry the like of which I 
 never heard, " Oh, mother, take me away ! " I have 
 heard of hearts being broken. I think hers was 
 broken then. 
 
 I tell you we were all in a whirl. The Don fell on 
 
81S THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 his knees beside her, taking hold of her skirts. " Oh, 
 Betty, won't you forgive me? God have mercy on 
 me! Won't you forgive me? I have done many 
 things of which I am ashamed, but I have never been 
 untrue to you in thought or in deed. Never, never, so 
 help me God ! " He clutched the hem of her dress, 
 kissing it over and over again. It was a ghastly 
 sight, I can tell you. Betty shrank from him, draw- 
 ing her skirts away. " Come away, my daughter," 
 said Mrs. Fairbanks. " There is nothing more to be 
 said." 
 
 As she turned away up spake little Hooper. God 
 bless him, the little five-footer, every inch clear grit. 
 " Mrs. Fairbanks, one minute. Pardon me if I say a 
 word. I am this young man's friend, and I am your 
 minister. I have known this man for six years. I 
 have known him intimately. I believe he carries a 
 clean, pure heart, and he has lived a hard-working, 
 honourable life. If he has sinned, he has repented, 
 and God has forgiven him. Should not you ? " 
 
 Mrs. Fairbanks turned impatiently on him. " Mr. 
 Hooper, forgiveness is one thing, and friendship 
 another." 
 
 " No, thank God ! " cried the little chap. " No, for- 
 giveness is not one thing and friendship another. 
 Forgiveness means friendship, and welcome, and love, 
 with God and with man." I could have hugged the 
 little man where he stood. 
 
 Then Mrs. Fairbanks seemed to lose her head, and 
 she blazed out in a perfect fury. " Do you mean de- 
 liberately to say that this man," pointing to The Don, 
 
 I 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 819 
 
 who was still on his knees, with his face in his hands, 
 " that this man should be received into my house ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Fairbanks," said Hooper, " is there not a 
 place for the repentant and absolved, even with the 
 saints of God? " 
 
 Mrs. Fairbanks lost herself completely. " Mr. 
 Hooper," she cried, " this is outrageous. I tell you, 
 forgiven or not, repentant or not, never will he, or 
 such as he, enter rny doors or touch my daughter's 
 hand. Never while I live." 
 
 Then Hooper drew himself up. He seemed to me 
 six feet tall. He lifted his hand, and spoke with the 
 kind of solemnity that you expect to come from the 
 altar. " Then listen to me, Mrs. Fairbanks. You 
 say you would not receive him or such as him into your 
 house. You invite me often to your home, and here 
 I constantly meet men who are known in society as 
 rakes and roues. You know it, and all society women 
 know it, too. If you cared to take half the trouble 
 you have taken in this case, you could find out all the 
 facts. You are a woman of society, and you know 
 well what I say is true. I have seen you in this room 
 place your daughter in the arms of a man you knew 
 to be a drunkard, and must have suspected was a lib- 
 ertine. These men have the entree to every good 
 family in the city, and though their character is 
 known, they are received everywhere. They have 
 wealth and family connection. Do not attempt to 
 deny it, Mrs. Fairbanks. I know society, and you 
 know it well. If you strike off the names of those 
 men whose lives, not have been in the past, but are to- 
 
820 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 day unclean and unworthy, you will have to make a 
 very large blank in your dancing list." Then the 
 little fellow's voice broke right down. " Forgive me 
 if I have spoken harshly. I beseech you, hear me. 
 You are doing a great wrong to my friend, a cruel 
 wrong. I pledge you my name and honour he is a 
 good man, and he is worthy of your daughter. God 
 has covered his sin: why have you dared to uncover 
 it ? " And then, in the tone that he uses in reading 
 his prayers, he went on, " In the name of the Saviour 
 of the sinful and lost, I ask you, I entreat you, re- 
 ceive him." 
 
 You would think that would have melted the heart 
 of a she-devil, let alone a woman, but that woman stood 
 there, cold, white, and unmoved. " Is that all, Mr. 
 Hooper?" she said. "Then my answer is never! 
 And as for you, his eloquent advocate, I never wish to 
 see you again. Come, Betty." 
 
 As they began to move off The Don, who was still 
 on his knees, looked up and reached out his hands 
 toward the poor girl with a cry that stabbed my heart 
 through and through. " I want your forgiveness, 
 Betty, only your forgiveness." She paused, took a 
 step towards him, then putting her hands over her 
 face she stood still, shuddering. Her mother caught 
 her and drew her away. 
 
 The Don rose slowly. He seemed stupefied. He 
 turned toward Hooper, and said in a hoarse kind of 
 whisper : " She's gone ! Oh, God, I have lost her ! " 
 He felt his way out to the hall like a blind man. Helen 
 put out her hand to stop him, but he went on, never 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 321 
 
 noticing. She followed him to the hall, weeping bit- 
 terly, and crying, " Come back, Don, come back ! " 
 
 Without waiting to get coat or hat, he rushed out. 
 " Go and get him," Helen cried to us, and we followed 
 him as fast as we could. When I got out he had 
 reached the gate, and was fumbling at the catch. 
 " Hold on, Don, where are you going ? " I cried. 
 " To hell ! to hell ! to hell ! " My dear chap, that cry 
 of his made me believe in hell ; for, if lost spirits cry 
 when the devils get hold of them, they will cry like 
 that. It was the most unearthly, horrible sound I 
 have ever heard, and may God save me from hearing 
 the like again. 
 
 Next day I tried to see Betty, but it was no use, she 
 would see no one, And soon after I heard she was ill, 
 typhoid fever. It had been working on her for some 
 time. There was almost no hope from the very first. 
 She became delirious at once, and in her raving kept 
 calling on The Don for forgiveness. Your mother was 
 a great help to them, relieving the nurse. They all 
 seemed to depend upon her. Of course, I was in and 
 out every day, and brought reports to The Don, who 
 haunted our house day and night. I never saw a fel- 
 low suffer like that. He slept hardly any, ate nothing 
 at all, but wandered about the town, spending most of 
 his time at Hooper's when he was not with us. 
 
 After the delirium passed Betty asked for me e 
 When I saw her looking so white and thin you would 
 think you could see through her hands I tell you it 
 broke me all up. She beckoned me to her, and when 
 I bent over her she whispered : " Find The Don and 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 bring him." At first her mother refused, saying he 
 should never come with her consent. It was mighty 
 hard, I tell you. But the afternoon of the same day 
 Helen "came flying over to tell us that the doctor had 
 said there was only a very slight chance for Betty, 
 and that if her mother persisted in her refusal he 
 would not be responsible for the consequences, that her 
 mother had yielded, and I was to bring The Don. I 
 tell you, I made time down to his rooms, and brought 
 him to the house. 
 
 There was no one in the room but the nurse and the 
 doctor when he entered. She was expecting us, and 
 as we entered she opened her eyes and asked, " Is he 
 here ? " The nurse beckoned him to approach., and 
 The Don came and knelt at her bed. He was very 
 steady and quiet. She put out her hand and drew him 
 toward her. She was the calmest of us all. " I want 
 you to forgive me, Don," she said, and her voice was 
 wonderfully clear. Poor chap, he went all to pieces 
 for a minute or two and, holding her fingers, kissed 
 them over and over again. " I want you to forgive 
 me, Don," she said again. " I thought I was better 
 than God." The poor fellow could only keep kissing 
 her fingers. " My lips, Don, my lips," and The Don 
 kissed her on the lips twice, murmuring in a broken 
 voice, " My darling, my love, my love." 
 
 Then she looked up and smiled that old smile of 
 hers you remember, so bright and so merry? By 
 Jove, it broke me all up. And she said : " Now we 
 are all right, aren't we?" The doctor came and 
 touched The Don. " No, doctor," she said, " I am 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 
 
 quite quiet. See, I am going to sleep. I want you 
 to stay there, Don. Good-night." 
 
 Mrs. Fairbanks and Helen came in. Helen gave 
 The Don her hand, but Mrs. Fairbanks paid no atten- 
 tion to him. Betty opened her eyes, saw her mother 
 and smiled. " Dear mother," she said, " see, there's 
 Don." Mrs. Fairbanks hesitated slightly, then 
 reached out her hand across the bed. " Thank you, 
 dear mother," Betty said. " You must be good to 
 him." Then after a little while she said dreamily, 
 like a tired child : " God forgives us all, and we must 
 forgive." She let her eyes rest on The Don's face. 
 " Good-night, Don, dear," she said, " I am going to 
 sleep." 
 
 That was her last word, Shock. Just think of it * 
 Betty's last word. I cannot realise it at all. 
 
 I wish my story ended there, but it does not. For a 
 time we sat there, the doctor hoping that a turn for 
 the better had come, but in about an hour the nurse 
 noticed a change, and called him. He came quickly, 
 felt her pulse, injected something or other into her 
 arm. She opened her eyes. You remember how she 
 would open those lovely brown eyes of hers when any- 
 thing surprised her. Well, she opened them just that 
 way, smiled brightly on one and then another, let her 
 eyes rest on The Don, gave a little sigh and closed 
 them, and they never opened again. " She is gone," 
 the doctor said, and we aH crowded near. " Yes, she is 
 gone," he said again. 
 
 Then The Don stood up, ad putting out his hand 
 to Mrs. Fairbaitks, said: "Mrs. Fairbanks, I want 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 to thank you for allowing me to come." But she drew 
 herself away from him, refusing to touch his hand, 
 and motioning him off. 
 
 Poor chap! He turned back to the bed, kneeled 
 down, touched the soft brown hair with his hands, 
 kissed the fingers again, and then without a word went 
 out. If anyone can tell me what that woman's heart 
 is mcide of, I would like to know. 
 
 The day of the funeral The Don brought me a little 
 bunch of lilies of the valley, saying, " It is for her." 
 I gave them to Helen, and I saw them afte* tfards in 
 the hands that lay folded across her breast. 
 
 I have not seen him since, but Hooper tells me he 
 said he was going out to you. I hope to Heaven he 
 will not go bad. I don't think he will. Of course, 
 he feels very bitterly about Lloyd and Mrs. Fair- 
 banks. 
 
 Now, that is all my story. It makes a great dif- 
 ference to all our set here, but I will tell you what I 
 have told no living soul, and that is, that the world 
 will never be the same to me again. I am not much 
 given to sentiment, as you know, and nobody ever sus- 
 pected it. I do not think she did herself. But I loved 
 that little girl better than my life, and I would have 
 given my soul for her any day. 
 
 I know you will feel this terribly. How often I 
 have wished that you could have been with us. The 
 best I could do was to send you this wretched, inco- 
 herent scrawl. 
 
 Your friend as ever, 
 
 BROWN. 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 825 
 
 P. S. Do you know anything about the British- 
 [American Gold and Silver Mining Company, or some- 
 thing like that? There is a chap here, manager or 
 director, or something. Ambherg, I think his name is. 
 He speaks as if he knew you, or knew something about 
 you. He is a great friend of the Fairbanks. Lots 
 of money, and that sort of thing. I did not like the 
 way he spoke about you. I felt like giving him a 
 smack. Do you know him, or anything about the 
 company ? 
 
 Your mother has not been very well since Betty's 
 death. I think she found the strain pretty heavy. 
 She has caught a little cold, I am afraid. B. 
 
 Brown's letter did for Shock what nothing else 
 could have done: it turned his mind away from him- 
 self and his sorrow. Not that he was in any danger 
 of morbid brooding over his loss, or of falling into 
 that last and most deplorable of all human weaknesses, 
 self-pity, but grief turns the heart in upon itself, and 
 tends to mar the fine bloom of an unselfish spirit. 
 
 As he finished reading Brown's letter Shock's heart 
 tras filled with love and pity for his friend. " Poor 
 fellow ! " he said. " I wonder where he is now. His is a 
 hard lot indeed." And as he read the letter over and 
 over his pity for his friend deepened, for he realised 
 that in his cup of sorrow there had mingled the gall of 
 remorse and the bitterness of hate. 
 
 In another week two other letters came, each pro- 
 foundly affecting Shock and his life. One was from 
 Helen, giving a full account of his mother's illness 
 
826 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 and death, telling how beautifully the Superintendent 
 had taken part in the funeral service, and preserv- 
 ing for her son those last precious messages of love 
 and gratitude, of faith and hope, which become the 
 immortal treasures of the bereaved heart. As he read 
 Helen's letter Shock caught a glimpse of the glory 
 of that departing. Heaven came about him, and the 
 eternal things, that by reason of the nearness of the 
 material world too often become shadowy, took on a 
 reality that never quite left him. Where his mother 
 was henceforth real things must be. 
 
 The letter closed with a few precious sentences of 
 love and sympathy from Helen, but in these Shock, 
 reading with his heart in his eyes, and longing for 
 more than he could rightly find in them, thought he 
 could detect a kind of reserve, a reserve which he could 
 not interpret, and he laid down the letter with painful 
 uncertainty. Was her love more than she cared to 
 tell, or was it less than she knew he would desire? 
 
 From Helen's letter Shock turned to Mrs. Fair- 
 banks' and read : 
 
 MY DEAR MR. MACGREGOR: 
 
 We all deeply sympathise with you in your great 
 loss, as I know you will with us in our grief. We can 
 hardly speak of it yet. It is so new and so terribly 
 sudden that we have not been able fully to realise it. 
 
 My great comfort in this terrible sorrow is my 
 daughter Helen. Mr. Lloyd, too, has proved himself 
 a true friend. Indeed, I do not know what we should 
 have done without him. We are more and more com- 1 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 327 
 
 ing to lean upon him. You will not have heard yet 
 that we have been so greatly attracted by Mr. Lloyd's 
 preaching, and influenced by our regard for him per- 
 sonally, that we have taken sittings in the Park 
 Church. 
 
 Helen, I am glad to say, is beginning to take an 
 interest in the church and its work, and as time goes 
 on I think her interest will grow. I should be glad 
 indeed that it should be so, for our relations with Mr. 
 Lloyd are very close ; and, in fact, I may tell you what 
 is yet a secret, that he has intimated to me his desire 
 to make Helen his wife. Helen is very favourably dis- 
 posed to him, and all our circle of friends would re- 
 joice in this as an ideal marriage. Mr. Lloyd belongs 
 to her own set in society, is a gentleman of culture and 
 high character, and in every way suitable. As for 
 myself, in my loneliness I could not endure the thought 
 of losing my only daughter, at all, and her marriage 
 would be a great blow to me were it not that her home 
 is to be so close at hand. 
 
 There is one thing, however, about which Helen is 
 sensitive. She cannot rid herself of a feeling that she 
 is in a manner bound to you on account of her foolish 
 and impetuous words, uttered under the excitement of 
 your departure ; but I am sure you would never think 
 of holding her because of those words, uttered in a 
 moment of great feeling, and I also feel sure that you 
 would not in any way interfere with her happiness, or 
 do anything that would hinder the consummation of a 
 marriage so eminently suitable in every way. 
 
 We hear of you and of your work occasionally. It 
 
38 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 must be a terrible country, and a very depressing life, 
 The loneliness and isolation must be well-nigh over- 
 whelming. I am sure you have all our sympathy. I 
 suppose work of this kind must be done, and it is a 
 good thing that there are men of such rugged strength 
 and such courage as you have, who seem to be fitted 
 for this kind of work. 
 
 Now, my dear Mr. Macgregor, in your answer I 
 think that a few words of assurance to Helen on the 
 points I have suggested would be greatly appreciated, 
 and would do much to remove difficulties that now 
 stand in the way of her happiness and mine. 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 
 E. FAIRBANKS. 
 
 It was then that Shock drank to the dregs his full 
 cup of bitter sorrow. The contrasts suggested by 
 Mrs. Fairbanks' letter stood out vividly before him. 
 He thought of Helen's beautiful home, where she was 
 surrounded with all the luxuries of a cultured life ; he 
 thought of her circle of friends, of the life work to 
 which, as Lloyd's wife, she would be permitted to take 
 up ; he thought, too, of her mother's claim upon her. 
 And then he looked about upon his bare room, with 
 its log walls, its utter absence of everything that sug- 
 gested refinement ; he thought of the terrible isolation 
 that in these days had become so depressing even to 
 himself; he thought of all the long hours of weary 
 yearning for the sight and touch of all that he held 
 dear, and for the sake of the girl to whom he had 
 given his heart's love in all its unsullied purity and in- 
 
BETTY'S LAST WORDS 329 
 
 all its virgin freshness he made his decision. He took 
 up his cross, and though his heart bled he pressed his 
 lips upon it. 
 
 His letter to Mrs. Fairbanks was brief and clear. 
 
 ** I thank you for your sympathy," he wrote, " and 
 I grieve with you in your great sorrow. 
 
 " In regard to what you write concerning Miss 
 Helen, you have made yourself perfectly clear, and I 
 wish to repeat now what I said on the morning of my 
 leaving home: that Miss Helen is to consider herself 
 in no sense bound to me. She is perfectly free, as 
 free as if she had not spoken. I fully realise the 
 possibility of mistaking one's feelings under the stress 
 of such emotional excitement. The sphere of work 
 opening out before her is one in every way suited to 
 her, and one in which she will find full scope for her 
 splendid powers of heart and mind, and I shall be 
 glad to know that her happiness is assured. At the 
 same time, truth demands that I should say that my 
 feelings toward her have not changed, nor will they 
 ever change ; and, while I cannot ask her to share a lif e 
 such as mine, I shall never cease to love her." 
 
 In Shock's preaching, and in his visitation of his 
 people, a new spirit made itself felt. There was no 
 less energy, but there was an added sweetness, and a 
 deeper sympathy. He had entered upon the way of 
 the Cross, and the bruising of his heart distilled all its 
 tenderness in word and deed. His preaching was 
 marked by a new power, a new intensity; and when, 
 
830 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 after the evening service, they gathered about the 
 organ to spend an hour in singing their favourite 
 hymns, then most of all they were conscious of 
 the change in him. The closer they drew toward him 
 the more tender did they find his heart to be. 
 
 The loneliness of the days that followed was to 
 Shock unspeakable. There was no one to whom he 
 could unburden himself. His face began to show the 
 marks of the suffering within. Instead of the ruddy, 
 full, round, almost boyish appearance, it became thin 
 and hard, and cut with deep lines. 
 
 The doctor, who now made his home in Loon Lake, 
 became anxious about his friend, but he was too ex- 
 perienced and too skilled a physician to be deceived 
 as to the cause of Shock's changed appearance. 
 
 "It is not sickness of the body," he remarked to 
 Ike, who was talking it over with him, " but of the 
 mind, and that, my friend, is the most difficult to 
 treat." 
 
 "Well," said Ike, "when I hear him speak in 
 meetin', and see him git on one of them smiles of his, I 
 come purty nigh makin' a fool of myself. I guess I'll 
 have to quit goin' to church." 
 
 " No, I do not think you will quit, Ike, my boy," 
 said the doctor. " You have become thoroughly well 
 inoculated. You could not, if you tried." 
 
 " Well, I surmise it would be difficult, but I wish 
 somethin' would happen." 
 
XVIII 
 THE DON'S RECOVERY 
 
 IKE had his wish ; for, when one day his business 
 took him to the Fort, the stage brought a stranger 
 asking the way to Mr. Macgregor's house, and 
 immediately Ike undertook to convoy him thither. 
 It was The Don. 
 
 Shock's shout of welcome did Ike good, but the 
 meeting between the two men no one saw. After the 
 first warm greeting Shock began to be aware of a great 
 change in his friend. He was as a man whose heart 
 has been chilled to the core, cold, hard, irresponsive. 
 Toward Shock himself The Don was unchanged in 
 affection and admiration, but toward all the world he 
 was a different man from the one Shock had known 
 in college days. 
 
 In Shock's work he was mildly interested, but to- 
 ward all that stood for religion he cherished a feeling 
 of bitterness amounting to hatred. True, out of re- 
 spect he attended Shock's services, but he remained 
 unmoved through all; so that, after the first joy 
 in his friend's companionship, the change in him 
 brought Shock a feeling of pain, and he longed to 
 help him. 
 
 " We will have to get him to work," he said to tha 
 doctor, to whom he had confided The Don's history iij 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 part, not omitting the great grief that had fallen 
 upon him. 
 
 " A wise suggestion," replied the doctor, who had 
 been attracted by his young brother in the profession, 
 " a wise suggestion. This country, however, is pain- 
 fully free from all endemic or epidemic diseases." 
 
 " Well, doctor, you know we ought to get that hos- 
 pital going in the Pass. Let us talk it over with 
 him." 
 
 At the first opportunity Shock set forth his plans 
 for the physical and moral redemption of the lumber- 
 men and miners of the Pass. 
 
 " I have seen the most ghastly cuts and bruises on 
 the chaps in the lumber camps," he said, " and the 
 miners are always blowing themselves up, and getting 
 all sorts of chest troubles, not to speak of mountain 
 fever, rheumatism, and the like. There is absolutely 
 no place for them to go. Hickey's saloon is vile, 
 noisy, and full of bugs. Ugh ! I'll never forget the 
 night I put in there. I can feel them yet. And be- 
 sides, Hickey has a gang about him that make it un- 
 safe for any man to go there in health, much less in 
 sickness. Why, the stories they tell are perfectly 
 awful. A fellow goes in with his month's pay. In 
 one night his fifty or sixty dollars are gone, no one 
 knows how. The poor chap is drunk, and he cannot 
 tell. When a prospector comes down from the hills 
 and sells a prospect for a good figure, from a hundred 
 to five hundred dollars, and sometimes more, these fel- 
 lows get about him and roll him. In two weeks he is 
 kicked out, half dead. Oh, Hickey is a villain, and 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 333 
 
 he is in league with the red-light houses, too. They 
 work together, to the physical and moral damnation 
 of the place. We want a clean stopping-place, a 
 club-room, and above everything else a hospital. Why, 
 when the miners and lumbermen happen to get off the 
 same night the blood flows, and there is abundant 
 practice for any surgeon for a week or so." 
 
 " Sounds exciting," said The Don, mildly interested. 
 " Why don't you go up, doctor? " 
 
 " It is not the kind of practice I desire. My tastes 
 are for a gentler mode of life. The dangers of the 
 Pass are too exciting for me. They are a quaint peo- 
 ple," the doctor continued, " primitive in their ideas 
 and customs, pre-historic, indeed, in their practice of 
 our noble art. I remember an experience of mine, 
 some years ago now, which made a vivid impression 
 upon me at the time, and indeed, I could not rid my- 
 self of the effects for many days, for many days." 
 
 "What was that, doctor?" enquired Shock, scent- 
 ing a story. 
 
 " Well, it is a very interesting tale, a very inter- 
 esting tale. Chiefly so as an illustration of how, in 
 circumstances devoid of the amenities of civilised life, 
 the human species tends toward barbarism. A clear 
 case of reversion to type. There was a half-breed 
 family living in the Pass, by the name of Goulais, and 
 with the family lived Goulais' brother, by name An- 
 toine, or, if you spelled it as they pronounced it, it 
 would be c Ontwine.' The married one's name was 
 Pierre. Antoine was a lumberman, and in the pur- 
 suit of his avocation he caught a severe cold, which 
 
334 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 induced a violent inflammation of the bowels, causing 
 very considerable distension and a great deal of pain. 
 Being in the neighbourhood attending some cases of 
 fever, I was induced by some friends of the Goulais to 
 call and see the sick man. 
 
 " The moment I opened the door I was met by a 
 most pungent odour, a most pungent odour. Indeed, 
 though I have experienced most of the smells that 
 come to one in the practice of our profession, this 
 odour had a pungency and a nauseating character all 
 its own. Looking into the room I was startled to ob- 
 serve the place swimming with blood, literally swim- 
 ming with blood. Blood on the floor, blood upon the 
 bed, and dripping from it. 
 
 " * What does this mean ? Is someone being mur- 
 dered ? Whence this blood ? * 
 
 " * Non ! non ! " exclaimed Mrs. Goulais. " There 
 is no one keel. It is one cat blood.' 
 
 " Approaching the bed to obtain a nearer view of 
 the patient, I discovered the cause. Turning down 
 the bed quilt to make an examination, you may im- 
 agine my surprise and horror to observe a ghastly and 
 bloody object lying across the abdomen of the sick 
 man. A nearer examination revealed this to be an 
 immense cat which had been ripped up from chin to 
 tail, and laid warm and bleeding, with all its appur- 
 tenances, upon the unhappy patient. All through 
 the day the brother, Pierre, had been kept busily en- 
 gaged in hunting up animals of various kinds, which 
 were to be excised in this manner and applied as a 
 poultice. 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 335 
 
 " In uncivilised communities the animal whose heal- 
 ing virtues are supposed to be most potent is the cat, 
 and the cure is most certainly assured if the cat be 
 absolutely black, without a single white hair. In this 
 communitj 7 , however, deprived of many of the domestic 
 felicities, the absence of cats made it necessary for 
 poor Pierre to employ any animal on which he could 
 lay his hands ; so, throughout the day, birds and beasts, 
 varied in size and character, were offered upon this 
 altar. The cat which I discovered, however, was evi- 
 dently that upon which their hopes most firmly rested ; 
 for, upon the failure of other animals, recourse would 
 be had to the cat, which had been kept in reserve. 
 The state of preservation suggested this. 
 
 " A very slight examination of the patient showed 
 me that there was practically no hope of his recovery, 
 and that it would be almost useless in me to attempt 
 to change the treatment, and all the more that I should 
 have to overcome not only the prejudices of the pa- 
 tient and of his sister-in-law, but also of his very able- 
 bodied brother, whose 'devotion to his own peculiar 
 method of treatment amounted to fanaticism. How- 
 ever; I determined to make an attempt. I prepared 
 hot fomentations, removed the cat, and made my first 
 application. But no sooner had I begun my treat- 
 ment than I heard Pierre returning with a freshly 
 slaughtered animal in his hand. The most lively 
 hope, indeed, triumph, was manifest in his excited 
 bearing. He bore by the tail an animal the character 
 of which none of us were in doubt from the moment 
 Pierre appeared in sight. It was the mephitis me- 
 
336 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 phitica, that mephitine musteloid carnivore witK 
 which none of us desire a close acquaintance, which 
 announces its presence without difficulty at a very con- 
 siderable distance ; in short, the animal vulgarly known 
 as the skunk, 
 
 " ' Voila ! ' exclaimed Pierre, holding the animal up 
 for our admiration. 6 Dis feex him queek.' 
 
 " * Ah I Mon Dieu ! 9 exclaimed his wife, covering her 
 face with her apron. But, whether from devotion to 
 his art or from affection for his brother, Pierre per- 
 sisted in carrying out his treatment. He laid the 
 animal, cleft and pungently odorous, upon the 
 patient. Needless to say, I surrendered the case at 
 once." 
 
 The doctor's manner of telling the story was so 
 extremely droll that both The Don and Shock were 
 convulsed with laughter. 
 
 " Yes, they need a hospital, I should say," said The 
 Don, when they had recovered. 
 
 " Well," said Shock, " we shall go up and have a 
 look at it." 
 
 The result of their visit to the Pass was that within 
 a few weeks a rough log building was erected, floored, 
 roofed in, chinked with moss, and lined with cotton, 
 lumbermen and miners willingly assisting in the work 
 of building. 
 
 The Don became much interested in the whole en- 
 terprise. He visited the various lumber camps, laid 
 the scheme before the bosses and the men, and in a 
 short time gathered about two hundred dollars foE 
 furnishing and equipment. 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 387 
 
 Shock left him to carry out the work alone, but 
 after two weeks had passed he was surprised to re- 
 ceive a message one day that the young doctor was 
 cutting things loose up in the Pass. With a great 
 fear at his heart Shock rode up the next day. 
 
 The first man whom he met in the little, straggling 
 village was Sergeant Crisp of the North-West 
 Mounted Police, a man of high character, and famed 
 in the Territories alike for his cool courage and un- 
 impeachable integrity. 
 
 " Up to see the young doctor? " was the Sergeant's 
 salutation. " You will find him at Nancy's, I guess," 
 pointing to where a red light shone through the black 
 night. " Do you want me along ? " 
 
 "No, thank you," said Shock. "I think I had 
 better go alone." 
 
 For a moment he hesitated. 
 
 " How does one go in ? " he enquired. 
 
 " Why, turn the handle and walk right in," said the 
 Sergeant, with a laugh. " You don't want to be bash- 
 ful there." 
 
 With a sickening feeling of horror at his heart 
 Shock strode to the red-light door, turned the handle, 
 and walked in. 
 
 In the room were a number of men, and two or three 
 women in all the shameless dishabille of their profes- 
 sion. As Shock opened the door a young girl, with 
 much of her youthful freshness and beauty still about 
 her, greeted him with a foul salutation. 
 
 Shock shrank back from her as if she had struck 
 him in the face. The girl noticed the action, came 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 nearer to him, and offered him her hand. Shock, over- 
 coming his feeling of shame, took the hand offered 
 him, and holding it for a moment, said : " My dear 
 girl, this is no place for you. Your home waits for 
 you. Your Saviour loves you." 
 
 In the noise that filled the room no one save the girl 
 herself heard his words; but two or three men who 
 knew Shock well, amazed at his appearance in that 
 place, exclaimed : " It's the preacher ! " 
 
 Nancy, the keeper of the house, who was sitting at 
 one of the tables gambling with some men, sprang to 
 her feet and, seeing Shock, poured out a torrent of foul 
 blasphemy. 
 
 " Get out of this house ! Get out, I say ! You've 
 no business here. Go, blank your blank soul! Take 
 yourself out of this ! " 
 
 She worked herself into a raging fury. Shock 
 stood quietly looking at her. 
 
 " Here, Tom ! Pat ! Put this blank, blank out, or 
 you'll go yourselves. What do I keep you for ? " 
 
 Three or four men, responding to her call, ap- 
 proached Shock. 
 
 Meantime The Don, who had been sitting at one of 
 the tables with three others, a pile of money before 
 him, stood gazing in amazement at Shock, unable to 
 believe his eyes. 
 
 As the men approached Shock The Don came 
 forward. 
 
 " Stop ! " he said. " This man is my friend." 
 
 " Friend or no friend," shrieked Nancy, beside her- 
 self with rage, " out he goes. He called me names in 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 339 
 
 this town. He threatened to drive me out of the 
 town." 
 
 " Come, Don," said Shock, ignoring Nancy. " I 
 want you." 
 
 " Wait one moment and I am with you," replied 
 The Don, going back to the table where he had been 
 sitting. " We will finish this game again, gentle- 
 men," he said. " Hickey, that's my money. Hand 
 it over." 
 
 " You lie ! " said Hickey. " Curse you for a blank, 
 blank swell ! You can't come that game over us. It 
 aint your money, anyway, and you know it. That's 
 money you raised for the hospital. Come on, boys, 
 let's clean them out. They don't belong to us." 
 
 With these words he sprang at The Don, but The 
 Don's training in the 'Varsity gymnasium had not 
 been in vain, and he met Hickey with a straight left- 
 hander that sent him into the corner upon his shoul- 
 ders, with his feet in the air. 
 
 Simultaneously with Hickey's atttack, Nancy, 
 shrieking "Kill him! kiU him!" flew at Shock, and 
 fastening her fingers in his hair dragged his head 
 downward. Taking advantage of this attack a man 
 from the crowd rushed in and struck him a heavy blow 
 on the neck, and as he was falling kicked him full in 
 his face. Immediately another, jumping on Shock's 
 prostrate form, began kicking him savagely with his 
 heavy calked boots* 
 
 "Give it to him!" yelled Nancy, dancing about 
 like a fiend. 
 
 " Stop ! Stop ! You have killed him ! " shrieked 
 
340 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 the young girl, Nellie by name, throwing herself upon 
 Shock and coverin-g him with her body. 
 
 " Get up, you blank fool ! " yelled Nancy 9 seizing 
 her by the hair. 
 
 At this moment, however, The Don, freed from 
 Hickey, sprang to Shock's side, seized Nancy by the 
 back of the neck and hurled her across the room, 
 caught the man who was still trying to kick Shock to 
 death, by the throat, and holding him at half arm 
 struck him a terrific blow and threw him like a log 
 against his companion, who came rushing to his 
 assistance. 
 
 Meantime Nancy, still shrieking her refrain, " Kill 
 him ! kill him ! " was dragging forward Hickey, who 
 had partially recovered from The Don's blow, to renew: 
 the attack. 
 
 " Come on, you cowards ! " she cried to the other 
 men. " What are you afraid of? Come on." 
 
 Stung by her taunts the men, led by Hickey, pre- 
 pared to rush, when the door opened and Sergeant 
 Crisp appeared. Immediately the men who had at- 
 tacked Shock vanished through the back door. 
 
 " Hickey, I want you. Stand where you are. You 
 too, Nancy, and every man of you. What's this 2 
 Someone hurt ? Why, it's the preacher. This may be 
 serious," he continued, drawing his revolver. " Don't 
 move. Not a man of you. What does this mean? " 
 he asked, addressing The Don. 
 
 " My friend there," said The Don, " came for me. 
 We were going out when they attacked us." 
 
 " Go and get help," replied the Sergeant. " We 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 341 
 
 will carry him to the hospital. You would, eh? " to 
 one of the men who started for the door. " Here, put 
 up your hands. Quick ! " There was a flash and a 
 click, and the man stood handcuffed. 
 
 In a few moments The Don came back with help, 
 and they carried Shock, groaning and bleeding, to the 
 hospital, while the Sergeant, putting a man in charge 
 of Nancy and her gang, accompanied The Don. 
 
 In an agony of remorseful solicitude for his friend, 
 and cursing himself for his folly, The Don directed 
 the movements of the bearers. 
 
 In the darkness behind them came the girl Nellie, 
 following to the door of the hospital. 
 
 "What are you after?" said Sergeant Crisp 
 sharply. " We don't want you here." 
 
 " I want to see the doctor," she said earnestly. 
 
 " Well? " said The Don, facing round to her. 
 
 " Let me nurse him," she said in a hurried, timid 
 voice. " I have had training. You can depend upon 
 me." 
 
 The Don hesitated, glancing at her dishevelled, 
 gaudy attire, painted cheeks, and frowsy hair. 
 
 "Well," he said, " you may come," 
 
 The girl disappeared, and in a very few minutes 
 returned dressed modestly and quietly, the paint and 
 pencilling washed from her face, her hair smoothed 
 behind her ears. The Don looked her over, and nod- 
 ding approval said : " That is better. Now, hold the 
 light for me." 
 
 His examination revealed serious injuries about the 
 head and face, three ribs broken, one piercing the 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 lungs. With Nellie's assistance he managed to dress 
 the wounds and set the broken bones before Shock 
 regained full consciousness. 
 
 As they were finishing Shock opened his eyes and 
 fixed them enquiringly upon The Don's face. 
 
 " Well, how do you feel, old chap ? Pretty sore, I 
 guess," enquired The Don. 
 
 Shock tried to speak, but his attempt ended in a 
 groan. Still his eyes remained fastened enquiringly 
 upon The Don's face. The Don bent over him. 
 
 " The money, Don," he said with great difficulty. 
 "Hospital?" 
 
 The Don groaned. He understood only too well; 
 and unable to escape the insisting eyes, replied: 
 " Yes, Shock. But I will make it all right. Hickey 
 has it now." 
 
 Shock closed his eyes for a few minutes, and then, 
 opening them again, compelled The Don's attention. 
 
 " Send for Ike," he whispered. " Right away." 
 
 Next day Ike appeared in a cold, white rage at The 
 Don. He had got the whole story from the messenger, 
 and blamed nj one but The Don. 
 
 As Shock's eyes rested upon Ike's lean, hard face, 
 bent over him so anxiously, he smiled a glad welcome. 
 
 " Don't look like that, Ike," he said. " I'll soon 
 be fit." 
 
 " Why, you just bet 1 " said Ike, with a loud laugh, 
 deriding all anxiety. 
 
 " Ike," whispered Shock. Ike bent over him. " I 
 want two hundred dollars at once. Don't tell." 
 
 Without a word of questioning Ike nodded, sayings 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 
 
 " In half an hour, I guess." But in less time he ap- 
 peared and, slipping the roll of bills under Shock's 
 pillow, said: " It's aU there." 
 
 " Good old boy," said Shock, trying to offer his 
 hand. 
 
 Ike took his hand carefully. " Is there anything 
 else ? " he said, his voice grave and hoarse. 
 
 " No, old boy," said Shock. " Thank you." 
 
 " Then," said Ike, " you'll keep quieter without me, 
 I guess. I'll be on hand outside." And with a nod he 
 strode out of the room, his face working with grief and 
 rage. 
 
 For a week Ike remained at the Pass in hourly at- 
 tendance at the hospital, looking in at every chance 
 upon the sick man. In Shock's presence he carried an 
 exaggerated air of cheerful carelessness, but outside 
 he went about with a face of sullen gloom. Toward 
 The Don, with whom he had previously been on most 
 fmndly terms, he was wrathfully contemptuous, dis- 
 daining even a word of enquiry for his patient, pre- 
 ferring to receive his information from the nurse. In 
 Ike's contempt, more than in anything else, The Don 
 read the judgment of honourable men upon his con- 
 duct, and this deepened to a degree -almost unendurable 
 his remorse and self-loathing. 
 
 One morning, when the report was not so favourable, 
 Ike stopped him with the question : " Will he git 
 better ? " 
 
 " Well," said The Don gloomily, " I have not given 
 up hope." 
 
 " Look here," replied Ike, " I want you to listen to 
 
344 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 me." His tone was quiet, but relentlessly hard. " If 
 he don't, you'll talk to me about it." 
 
 The Don looked at him steadily. 
 
 " Would you kill me? " he asked, with a quiet smile. 
 
 " Well," drawled Ike slowly, I'd try to." 
 
 " Thank you," said The Don. " That would save 
 me the trouble." And, turning on his heel, he left the 
 cowboy in a very puzzled state of mind. 
 
 But Shock did not die. His splendid constitution, 
 clean blood, and wholesome life stood off the grim 
 enemy, and after two weeks of terrible anxiety The 
 Don began to hope, and insisted on the nurse allowing 
 herself some relaxation from her long watch. 
 
 But as Shock grew stronger The Don's gloom deep- 
 ened. He had determined that once his friend was fit 
 for work again he would relieve him of the burden of 
 his presence. He had only brought trouble and shame 
 to the man who was his most trusted, almost his only 
 friend. 
 
 Life looked black to The Don in those days. Lloyd's 
 treachery had smitten him hard. Not only had it 
 shaken his faith in man, but in God as well, for with 
 him Lloyd had represented all that was most sacred in 
 religion. Death, too, had robbed him of his heart's 
 sole treasure, and in robbing him of this it had taken 
 from him what had given worth to his life and inspira- 
 tion to his work. Of what use now was anything he 
 had kft? 
 
 He was confronted, too, with the immediate results 
 of his recent folly. The hospital funds, of which he 
 was the custodian, had disappeared. He knew that 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 345 
 
 Hickey had robbed him of most of them, but in order 
 to recover them he would have to acknowledge his 
 crime of using them for his own ends. As he moved 
 in and out among the men, too, he had caught mur- 
 murs of a charge of embezzlement that in his present 
 condition filled him with shame and fear. If the thing 
 could be staved off for a month he could make it right, 
 but he knew well that the gang would give him as 
 little respite as they could. Indeed, it was only Ser- 
 geant Crisp's refusal to entertain any formal charge 
 while Shock's life was in danger, that had saved The 
 Don so far. But while Sergeant Crisp had stood be- 
 tween him and his enemies thus far, he knew that a 
 day of reckoning must come, for the Seregant was not 
 a man to allow considerations of friendship to interfere 
 with duty. With Sergeant Crisp duty was supreme. 
 
 But more than The Don was Shock anxious to have 
 this matter of the hospital funds cleared up, and he 
 only waited an opportunity to speak to The Don about 
 it. The opportunity was forced on him unexpectedly. 
 
 One day, as he lay apparently asleep, the Sergeant 
 called The Don into the next room. Through the pa- 
 per and cotton partition their voices came quite clearly. 
 
 " I have been wanting to speak to you about a mat- 
 ter," the Sergeant said, with some degree of hesitation. 
 "Hickey's friends are saying nasty things about 
 
 you." 
 
 "What do you mean?" said The Don, knowing 
 only too well. 
 
 " About the hospital funds, you know. In fact, 
 are saying " 
 
846 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 At this point the nurse came running in. 
 
 " Mr. Macgregor wants you, doctor, at once, 55 she 
 cried, and The Don hurried in to him. 
 
 " Go and tell the Sergeant to wait," Shock said to 
 the nurse, and she went out leaving The Don alone 
 with him. 
 
 " Don," said Shock, " I know all about it. Don't 
 speak. Here," taking the roll of bills from under his 
 pillow, " here is the hospital money. Quick ! Don't 
 ask questions now. Go to the Sergeant. Go ! go ! " 
 
 " Nothing wrong? " asked the Sergeant anxiously, 
 when The Don had returned. 
 
 " Oh, no," said The Don. " Nothing serious. You 
 were speaking about some hospital funds? " 
 
 " Why, yes, the fact is, they are it's an ugly thing 
 to say they are charging you with misappropriation 
 of those funds." 
 
 " Oh, they are? " said The Don, who had by this 
 time got back his nerve. " Well, Sergeant, let them 
 come on. The accounts will be ready. And, indeed, 
 I shall be glad to turn over the funds to yourself now. 
 Excuse me a moment." He went to his desk and 
 brought out a pass book. " This shows all the sub- 
 scriptions, about two hundred dollars, I think. And 
 here," he said, drawing the bills out of his pocket, 
 w you will find the whole amount." 
 
 " Not at all," said the Sergeant, " not at all, my 
 dear fellow. I thought it right you should know be 
 prepared, you understand." 
 
 "Thank you, Sergeant," said The Don. "Anj 
 time my books can be seen. Good-bye." 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 347 
 
 The Don went in to Shock, sent the nurse out for a 
 walk, shut the door, and then, returning to the bed, 
 threw himself on his knees. 
 
 " Oh, Shock," he said, " this is too much. What 
 can I say ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all, old chap. Don't say anything. 
 What is that between us ? We have been through too 
 many things together to have this bother us." 
 
 "Shock! Shock!" continued The Don, "I have 
 been an awful fool, a blank, cursed fool ! " 
 
 " Don't swear, old chap," said Shock. 
 
 " No, no, I won't, but I curse myself. I have been 
 waiting for this chance to tell you. I don't want you 
 to think too badly of me. This thing began in 
 Hickey's saloon some days before that night. He was 
 playing some fellows from the camp a skin game. I 
 called him down and he challenged me. I took him 
 up, and cleaned him out easily enough. You know 
 my old weakness. The fever came back upon me, and 
 I got going for some days. That night I was called 
 to visit a sick girl at Nancy's. The gang came in, 
 found me there, and throwing down their money dared 
 me to play. Well, I knew it was play or fight. I 
 took off my coat and went for them. They cleaned 
 me out, I can't tell how. I could not get on to their 
 trick. Then, determined to find out, I put up that 
 that other money, you know and I was losing it fast, 
 too, when you came in." 
 
 As Shock listened to The Don's story his face grew 
 brighter and brighter. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he said in a tone of relief, " is 
 
348 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 that all? Is that the whole thing? Tell me, as God 
 hears you ! " 
 
 " That's the whole story, as God hears me ! " said 
 The Don solemnly. 
 
 "Oh, thank God!" said Shock. "I thought I 
 was afraid " He paused, unable to go on. 
 
 " What ! You thought I had forgotten," cried The 
 Don. " Well, I confess things did look bad. But I 
 want to tell you I am clean, and may God kill me be- 
 fore I can forget ! No, no woman shall ever touch my 
 lips while I live. Do you believe me, Shock ? " 
 
 Shock put out his hand. He was still too much 
 moved to speak. 
 
 At length he said: "Nothing else matters, Don. 
 I could not bear the other thing." 
 
 For some minutes the friends sat in silence. 
 
 " But, Don," said Shock at length, " you can- 
 not go on this way. Your whole life is being 
 ruined. You cannot draw off from God. You have 
 been keeping Him at arm's length. This will 
 not do." 
 
 " It is no use, Shock," said The Don bitterly. " My 
 head is all right. I believe with you. But I cannot 
 
 get over the feeling I have for that " He broke 
 
 off suddenly. 
 
 " I know, I know. - 1 feel it, too, old chap, but after 
 all, it is not worth while. And besides, Don, forgive 
 me saying this if it had not been true about you he 
 could not have hurt you, could he? " 
 
 The Don winced. 
 
 " I am not excusing him, nor blaming you," con- 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 349 
 
 tinued Shock eagerly, " but a man has got to be 
 honest. Isn't that right? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is true enough, Shock. I was a beast, 
 as you know, at that time in my life, but I had put it 
 all past me, and I believed that God had forgiven me. 
 And then those two raked it all up again, and broke 
 my darling's heart, and drove me away, an outcast. 
 He is a minister of the gospel, and she is a member of 
 the Christian Church." 
 
 " Don,' ? said Shock gravely, "that won't do. You 
 are not fair." 
 
 The door opened quietly, and the nurse came in and 
 sat down out of Shock's sight behind the bed. 
 
 " Now, Don, I want you to read for me that tale of 
 the Pharisee and the woman who was a sinner. For 
 my sake, mind you, as well as for yours, for I was 
 wrong, too, on this matter. I confess I hated him, for 
 I cannot help thinking that he has done me a great 
 wrong, and I have found it hard enough to say the 
 Lord's Prayer. . Perhaps you had better read this let- 
 ter so that you may understand." 
 
 He took from under his pillow Mrs. Fairbanks' let- 
 ter and gave it to The Don, who read it in silence. 
 Poor Shock! He was opening up wounds that none 
 had ever seen, or even suspected, and the mere uncover- 
 ing of them brought him keen anguish and humili- 
 ation. 
 
 As The Don read the letter he began to swear deep 
 oaths. 
 
 " Stop, Don. You mustn't swear. Now listen to 
 me. I think she has a perfect right to do as she has 
 
850 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 been doing. But Lloyd" Shock seemed to get 
 the name out with difficulty, " was my friend, and I 
 think he has not been fair." 
 
 "Fair!" burst out The Don. "The low down 
 villain!" 
 
 " But listen. The question with me has been how 
 to forgive him, for I must forgive him or keep far 
 from Him who has forgiven me, and that I cannot 
 afford to do. Now read." And The Don took up the 
 Bible from the little table beside Shock's bed, and read 
 that most touching of all tales told of the Saviour of 
 the sinful. 
 
 " * Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins, which are 
 many, are forgiven, for she loved much : but to whom 
 little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And he said 
 unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. Thy faith hath 
 saved thee ; go in peace. 5 " 
 
 As The Don finished reading, a sound of sobbing 
 broke the silence in the room. 
 
 "Who is that? Is that you, Nell?" said Shock. 
 "What is the matter, Nell? That is for you, too. 
 Now we will have Don read it again." And once more, 
 with great difficulty, The Don read the words, so ex- 
 quisitely delicate, so divinely tender. 
 
 " That is for you, too, Nell," said Shock. 
 
 " For me? " she cried. " Oh, no, not for me ! " 
 
 " Yes, Nell, my sister, it is for you." 
 
 " Oh," she cried, with a tempest of sobs, " don't call 
 me that. It cannot be. I can never be clean again." 
 
 " Yes, Nell, He says it Himself. < Her sins, which 
 are many, are forgiven,' and He can make you clean 
 
THE DON'S RECOVERY 851 
 
 as the angels. We all need to be made clean, and He 
 has undertaken to cleanse us." 
 
 It was a very humble and chastened man that went 
 out from Shock's presence that evening. Through 
 the days of the week that followed The Don went about 
 his work speaking little, but giving himself with 
 earnestness and in a new spirit, more gentle, more sym- 
 pathetic, to his ministry to the sick in the camps and 
 shacks round about. But still the gloom was unlifted 
 from his heart. Day by day, however, in response to 
 Shock's request he would read something of the story 
 of that great loving ministration to the poor, and 
 sick, and needy, and of infinite compassion for the sin- 
 ful and outcast, till one day, when Shock had been 
 allowed for the first time to sit m his chair, and The 
 Don was about to read, Shock asked for the 
 story of the debtors, and after The Don had finished 
 he took from his pocket Brown's letter and said: 
 " Now, Don, forgive me. I am going to read some- 
 thing that will make you understand that story," and 
 he read from Brown's letter the words that described 
 Betty's last hour. 
 
 The Don sat white and rigid until Shock came to 
 the words, " God forgives us all, and we must for- 
 give," when his self-control gave way and he aban- 
 doned himself to the full indulgence of his great 
 sorrow. 
 
 " It was not to grieve you, Don," said Shock, after 
 his friend's passion of grief had subsided. " It was not 
 to grieve you, you know, but to show you what is 
 .worth while seeing the manner of God's forgiveness ; 
 
852 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 for as she forgave and took you to her pure heart 
 again without fear or shrinking, so God forgives us. 
 And, Don, it is not worth while, in the face of so great 
 a forgiveness, to do anything else but forgive, and it 
 is a cruel thing, and a wicked thing, to keep at a dis- 
 tance such love as that.** 
 
 a No, no," said The Don, " it is not worth while. 
 It is wicked, and it is folly. I will go back. I 
 forgive." 
 
XIX 
 
 THE REGIONS BEYOND 
 
 THE visit of the Superintendent to a mission 
 field varied according to the nature of the 
 field and the character of the work done, 
 between an inquisitorial process and a tri- 
 umphal march. Nothing escaped his keen eye. It 
 needed no questioning on his part to become pos- 
 sessed of almost all the facts necessary to his full in- 
 formation about the field, the work, the financial con- 
 dition, and the general efficiency of the missionary. 
 One or two points he was sure to make inquiry about. 
 One of these was the care the missionary had taken of 
 the outlying points. He had the eye of an explorer, 
 which always rests on the horizon. The results of 
 his investigations could easily be read in his joy or 
 his grief, his hope or his disappointment, his genuine 
 pride in his missionary or his blazing, scorching re- 
 buke. The one consideration with the Superintendent 
 was the progress of the work. The work first, the 
 work last, the work always. 
 
 The announcement to Shock through his Convener, 
 that the Superintendent purposed making a visit in the 
 spring, filled him with more or less anxiety. He re- 
 membered only too well his failure at the Fort; he 
 thought of that postscript in the Superintendent's 
 
 353 
 
854 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 letter to his Convener; he knew that even in Loon 
 Lake and in the Pass his church organization was not 
 anything to boast of; and altogether he considered 
 that the results he had to show for his year's labour 
 were few and meagre. 
 
 The winter had been long and severe. In the Pass 
 there had been a great deal of sickness, both among 
 the miners and among the lumbermen. The terrible 
 sufferings these men had to endure from the cold and 
 exposure, for which they were all too inadequately 
 prepared, brought not only physical evils upon them, 
 but reacted in orgies unspeakably degrading. 
 
 The hospital was full. Nell had been retained by 
 The Don as nurse, and although for a time this meant 
 constant humiliation and trial to her, she bore herself 
 with such gentle humility, and did her work with such 
 sweet and untiring patience, that the men began to 
 regard her with that entire respect and courteous con- 
 sideration that men of their class never fail to give to 
 pure and high-minded women. 
 
 The Don was full of work. He visited the camps, 
 treated the sick and wounded there, and brought down 
 to the hospital such as needed to be moved thither, 
 and gradually won his way into the confidence of all 
 who came into touch with him. Even Ike, after long 
 hesitation and somewhat careful observation, gave him 
 once more his respect and his friendship. 
 
 The doctor was kept busy by an epidemic of diph- 
 theric croup that had broken out among the children 
 of the Loon Lake district, and began to take once 
 more pride in his work, and to regain his self-respect 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 355 
 
 and self-control. He took especial pride and joy in 
 the work of The Don at the Pass, and did all he could 
 to make the hospital and the club room accomplish 
 all the good that Shock had hoped for them. 
 
 But though the hospital and club room had done 
 much for the men of the Pass, there was still the an- 
 cient warfare between the forces that make for man- 
 hood and those that make for its destruction. Hickey 
 still ran his saloon, and his gang still aided him in all 
 his nefarious work. Men were still " run " into the 
 saloon or the red-light houses, there to be " rolled," 
 and thence to be kicked out, fit candidates for the hos- 
 pital. The hospital door was ever open for them, and 
 whatever the history, the physical or moral condition 
 of the patient, he was received, and with gentle, loving 
 ministration tended back to health, and sent out again 
 to camp or mine, often only to return for another 
 plunge into the abyss of lust and consequent misery ; 
 sometimes, however, to set his feet upon the upward 
 trail that led to pure and noble manhood. For The 
 Don, while he never preached, took pains to make clear 
 to all who came under his charge the results of their 
 folly and their sin to body and to mind, as well as to 
 soul, and he had the trick of forcing them to take upon 
 themselves the full responsibility for their destiny, 
 whether it was to be strength, soundness of mind, hap- 
 piness, heaven, or disease, insanity, misery, hell. It 
 was heart-breaking work, for the disappointments 
 were many and bitter, but with now and then an 
 achievement of such splendid victory as gave hope 
 and courage to keep up the fight. 
 
356 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 At Loon Lake during the winter Shock had devoted 
 himself to the perfecting of his church organization. 
 A Communion Roll had been formed and on it names 
 entered of men and women whose last church connec- 
 tion reached back for ten or fifteen or twenty years, 
 and along with those the names of some who had never 
 before had a place in that mystic order of the saints 
 of God. And, indeed, with some of these Shock had 
 had his own difficulty, not in persuading them to offer 
 themselves as candidates, but in persuading himself 
 to assume the responsibility of accepting them. To 
 Shock with his Highland training it was a terribly 
 solemn step to " come forward." The responsibility 
 assumed, bulked so largely in the opinion of those 
 whom Shock had always regarded as peculiarly men of 
 God, that it almost, if not altogether, obliterated the 
 privilege gained. 
 
 When a man like Sinclair, whose reputable char- 
 acter and steady life seemed to harmonize with such a 
 step, he had little difficulty ; and had the Kid, with his 
 quick intelligence, his fineness of spirit and his win- 
 ning disposition, applied for admission, Shock would 
 have had no hesitation in receiving him. But the Kid, 
 although a regular attendant on the services, and 
 though he took especial delight in the Sabbath even- 
 ing gatherings after service, had not applied, and 
 Shock would not think of bringing him under pres- 
 sure; and all the more because he had not failed to 
 observe that the Kid's interest seemed to be more pro- 
 nounced and more steadfast in those meetings in which 
 Marion's singing was the feature. True, this pecul- 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 357 
 
 iarity the Kid shared with many others of the young 
 men in the district, to Shock's very considerable em- 
 barrassment, though to the girl's innocent and frank 
 delight ; and it is fair to say that the young men, 
 whom Shock had put upon their honor in regard to 
 one who was but a child, never by word or look failed 
 in that manly and considerate courtesy that marks 
 the noble nature in dealing with the weak and unpro- 
 tected. 
 
 The truth about the Kid was that that gay young 
 prince of broncho busters, with his devil-may-care 
 manner and his debonair appearance, was so greatly 
 sought after, so flattered and so feted by the riotous 
 and reckless company at the Fort, of which the In- 
 spector and his wife were the moving spirits, that he 
 was torn between the two sets of influences that played 
 upon him, and he had not yet come to the point of 
 final decision as to which kingdom he should seek. 
 
 It was with Ike and men like Ike, however, that 
 Shock had his greatest difficulty, for when the earnest 
 appeal was made for men to identify themselves with 
 the cause that stood for all that was noblest in the 
 history of the race, and to swear allegiance to Him 
 who was at once the ideal and the Saviour of men, Ike 
 without any sort of hesitation came forward and to 
 Shock's amazement, and, indeed, to his dismay, offered 
 himself. For Ike was regarded through all that south 
 country as the most daringly reckless of all the cattle- 
 men, and never had he been known to weaken either 
 in " takin' his pizen," in " playin' the limit " in 
 poker, or in " standin' up agin any man that thought 
 
358 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 he could dust his pants." Of course he was " white." 
 Everyone acknowledged that. But just how far this 
 quality of whiteness fitted him as a candidate for the 
 communion table Shock was at a loss to say. 
 
 He resolved to deal with Ike seriously, but the ini- 
 tial difficulty in this was that Ike seemed to be quite 
 unperplexed about the whole matter, and entirely un- 
 afraid. Shock's difficulty and distress were sensibly 
 increased when on taking Ike over the " marks " of 
 the regenerate man, as he had heard them so fully 
 and searchingly set forth in the " Question Meet- 
 ings " in the congregation of his childhood, he dis- 
 covered that Ike was apparently ignorant of all the 
 deeper marks, and what was worse, seemed to be quite 
 undisturbed by their absence. 
 
 While Shock was proceeding with his examination 
 he was exceedingly anxious lest he should reveal to 
 Ike any suspicion as to his unfitness for the step he 
 proposed to take. At the same time, he was filled with 
 anxiety lest through any unfaithfulness of his on ac- 
 count of friendship a mistake in so solemn a matter 
 should be made. It was only when he observed that 
 Ike was beginning to grow uneasy under his somewhat 
 searching examination, and even offered to withdraw 
 his name, that Shock decided to cast to the winds all 
 his preconceived notions of what constituted fitness 
 for enrollment in the Church of he living God, and 
 proceeded to ask Ike some plain, common sense ques- 
 tions. 
 
 " You are sure you want to join this church, Ike? " 
 
 " That's what," said Ike. 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 359 
 
 " Why do you want to join? " 
 
 " Well, you gave us a clear invite, didn't you ? " 
 
 " But I mean, is it for my sake? Because I asked 
 you?" 
 
 " Why, sure. I want to stand at your back." 
 
 Shock was puzzled. He tried another line of ap- 
 proach. 
 
 " Do you know, Ike, what you are joining? " 
 
 " Well, it's your church, you said." 
 
 " Supposing I was not here at all, would you join? " 
 
 " Can't say. Guess not." 
 
 Shock feli himself blocked again. 
 
 " Ike, do you think you are really fit to do this ? " 
 
 " Fit ? Well, you didn't say anything about bein' 
 fit. You said if anyone was willin' to take it up, to 
 stay with the game, to come on." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know, Ike. I did say that, and I 
 meant that," said Shock. " But, Ike, you know that 
 the Apostle calls those who belong to the church 
 < saints of God.' V 
 
 " Saints, eh? Well, I ain't no saint, I can tell you 
 that. Guess I'm out of this combination. No, sir, I 
 ain't no paradox paragon, I mean." Ike remem- 
 bered the Kid's correction. 
 
 His disappointment and perplexity were quite evi- 
 dent. After hearing Shock's invitation from the pul- 
 pit it had seemed so plain, so simple. 
 
 His answer rendered Shock desperate. 
 
 " Look here, Ike, I am going to be plain with you. 
 You won't mind that? " 
 
 " Wade right in." 
 
660 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Well, you sometimes swear, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's so. But I've pretty much quit, unless 
 there's some extraordinary occasion." 
 
 " Well, you drink, don't you? " 
 
 " Why, sure. When I can git it, and git it good, 
 which ain't easy in this country now." 
 
 " And you sometimes fight ? ? ' 
 
 " Well," in a tone almost of disappointment, "there 
 ain't nobody wantin' to experiment with me in these 
 parts any longer." 
 
 " And you gamble? Pla}^ poker for money, I 
 mean? " 
 
 " Oh, well, I don't profess to be the real thing," 
 replied Ike modestly, as if disclaiming an excellence 
 he could hardly hope to attain, " but I ginerally kin 
 stay some with the game." 
 
 " Now, Ike, listen to me. I'm going to give it to 
 you straight." 
 
 Ike faced his minister squarely, looking him fair 
 in the eyes. 
 
 " You have been doing pretty much as you like all 
 along. Now, if you join the church you are swearing 
 solemnly to do only what Jesus Christ likes. You 
 give your word you will do only what you think He 
 wants. You see? He is to be your Master." 
 
 " Yes," said Ike. " Yes, that's so. That's right." 
 
 " In everything, remember." 
 
 " Why, sure." That seemed quite simple to Ike. 
 
 " Swearing, drinking, fighting, gambling," Shock 
 continued. 
 
 Ike hesitated. 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 361 
 
 " Why, you don't suppose He would mind a little 
 thing like a smile with the boys now and then, or a 
 quiet game of poker, do you ? " 
 
 " What I say, Ike, is this if you thought He did 
 mind, would you quit? " 
 
 " Why, sure. You just bet ! I said so." 
 
 " Well, Ike, supposing some one of those chaps 
 from the Pass, say Hickey, should walk up and hit 
 you in the face, what would you do ? " 
 
 "What? Proceed to eddicate him. Preject him 
 into next week. That is, if there was anything left." 
 
 Shock opened his Bible and read, " ' But I say unto 
 you, That ye resist not evil ; but whosoever shall smite 
 thee on thy right cheek turn to him the other also.' 
 That is what Jesus Christ says, Ike." 
 
 " He does, eh? Does it mean just that? " Ike felt 
 that this was a serious difficulty. 
 
 " Yes, it means just that." 
 
 " Are all you fellers like that? " 
 
 This wrought in Shock sudden confusion. 
 
 " Well, Ike, I am afraid not, but we ought to be, 
 and we aim to be." 
 
 " Well," said Ike slowly, " I guess I ain't made 
 that way." 
 
 Then Shock turned the leaves of his Bible, and read 
 the story of the cruel bruising of the Son of Man, and 
 on to the words, " Father, forgive them." Ike had 
 heard this story before, but he had never seen its bear- 
 ing upon practical life. 
 
 " I say," he said, with reverent admiration in his 
 voice, "He did it, didn't He? That's what I call 
 
362 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 pretty high jumpin', ain't it? Well," he continued, 
 " I can't make no promises, but I tell you what, 111 
 aim at it. I will, honest. And when you see me 
 weaken, you'll jack me up, won't you? You'll have 
 to stay with me, for it's a mighty hard proposition." 
 
 Then Shock took his hands. " Ike, you are a bet- 
 ter man than I am, but I promise you I will stay all 
 I can with you. But there will be days when you will 
 be all alone except that He will be with you. Now 
 listen," and Shock, turning over the leaves of his 
 Bible, read, " Lo, I am with you always," and a, little 
 further over and read again, " I can do all things 
 through Christ that strengtheneth me." 
 
 " That is His solemn promise, Ike. He has prom- 
 ised to save us from our sins. Do you think you can 
 trust Him to do that?" 
 
 " Why, sure," said Ike, as if nothing else was pos- 
 sible. "That's His game, ain't it? I guess He'll 
 stay with it. He said so, didn't He? " 
 
 " Yes," said Shock, with a sudden exaltation of 
 faith, " He said so, and He will stay with it. Don't 
 you be afraid, Ike. He will see you through." 
 
 The Communion Roll when it was completed num- 
 bered some eighteen names, and of these eighteen none 
 were more sorely pressed to the wall in God's battle 
 than Ike, and none more loyally than he stayed with 
 the game. 
 
 Owing to miscarriage in arrangements, when the 
 Superintendent arrived at the Fort he was surprised 
 to find no one to meet him. This had an appearance 
 of carelessness or mismanagement that unfavorably 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 363 
 
 impressed the Superintendent as to the business capac- 
 ity of his missionary; He was too experienced a trav- 
 eller, however, in the remote and unformed districts 
 of the West, to be at all disconcerted at almost any 
 misadventure. 
 
 He inquired for Mr. Macfarren, and found him in 
 Simmons' store, redolent of bad tobacco and worse 
 whiskey, but quite master of his mental and physical 
 powers. The Superintendent had business with Mr. 
 Macfarren, and proceeded forthwith to transact it. 
 
 After his first salutation he began, " When I saw 
 you last, Mr. Macfarren, you professed yourself 
 keenly desirous of having services established by our 
 church here." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Why this sudden change, represented by your 
 letter to the Committee, and the petition, which I 
 judge was promoted by yourself? I placed a man 
 here, with every expectation of success. How can 
 you explain this change in you and in the people you 
 represent? " 
 
 The Superintendent's bodily presence was anything 
 but weak, and men who could oppose him when at a 
 distance, when confronted with him found it difficult 
 to support their opposition. Macfarren found it so. 
 He began in an apologetic manner, " Well, Doctor, 
 circumstances have changed. Times have been none 
 too good. In fact, we are suffering from financial 
 stringency at present." 
 
 " Mr. Macfarren, be specific as to your reasons. 
 Your letter and your petition were instrumental in 
 
364 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 persuading the Committee to a complete change of 
 policy. This should not be without the very best of 
 reasons." 
 
 " Well, as I was saying," answered Macfarren, 
 " finances were " 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! Mr. Macfarren. You do not all be- 
 come poor in six months. Your cattle are still here. 
 Your horses have suffered from no plague." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Macfarren, " the people have be- 
 come alienated." 
 
 " Alienated ? From the church ? " 
 
 " Well, yes. They seem to be satisfied with to 
 prefer, indeed, the Anglican services." 
 
 " Mr. Macfarren, do you mean to tell me that the 
 Presbyterians of this country prefer any church to 
 their own? I fear they are a different breed from 
 those I have known, and unworthy to represent the 
 church of their fathers." 
 
 " Well, the truth is, Doctor," said Macfarren, con- 
 siderably nettled at the Superintendent's manner, 
 " the people consider that they were not well treated 
 in the supply you sent them." 
 
 " Ah ! Now we have it. Well, let us be specific 
 again. Is Mr. Macgregor not a good preacher? " 
 
 " No, he is not. He is not such a preacher as many 
 of us have been accustomed to." 
 
 " By the way, Mr. Macfarren, what do your people 
 pay toward this man's salary ? Five hundred? Three 
 hundred? We only asked you two hundred, and this 
 you found difficult. And yet you expect a two-thou- 
 sand-dollar preacher." 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 365 
 
 " Well, his preaching was not his only fault," said 
 Macfarren. " He was totally unsuited to our people. 
 He was a man of no breeding, no manners, and in this 
 town we need a man " 
 
 " Wait a moment, Mr. Macfarren. You can put 
 up with his preaching? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did he visit his people? " 
 
 " Yes, goodness knows, he did that enough. " 
 
 "Was his character good?" 
 
 "Oh, certainly." 
 
 " Then I understand you to say that as a preacher 
 he was passable, as a pastor and as a man ail that 
 could be desired? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, certainly. But he was well, if you have 
 met him you must know what I mean. In short, he 
 was uncouth and boorish in his manners." 
 
 The Superintendent drew himself up, and his voice 
 began to burr in a way that his friends would have 
 recognized as dangerous. 
 
 " Boorish, Mr. Macfarren? Let me tell you, sir, 
 that he is a Highland gentleman, the son of a High- 
 land gentlewoman, and boorishness is impossible to 
 him." 
 
 " Well, that may be too strong, Doctor, but you do 
 not understand our society here. We have a large 
 number of people of good family from the old country 
 and from the East, and in order to reach them we re- 
 quire a man who has moved in good society." 
 
 "Well, sir," said the Superintendent, "Jesus Christ 
 would not have suited your society here, for He was 
 
366 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 a man of very Humble birth, and moved in very low 
 circles." And without further word he turned from 
 Macf arren to greet Father Mike, who had entered the 
 store. 
 
 " Delighted to see you again, Bishop," said Father 
 Mike. " We are always glad to see you even though 
 you are outside the pale." 
 
 " Depends upon which pale you mean, Father 
 Mike," said the Superintendent, shaking him warmly 
 by the hand. 
 
 " True, sir. And I, for one, refuse to narrow its 
 limits to those of any existing organization." 
 
 " Your principles do you credit, sir," said the 
 Superintendent, giving his hand an extra shake. 
 " They are truly Scriptural, truly modern, and truly 
 Western." 
 
 " But, Doctor, I want to ask you, if I may without 
 impertinence, why did you do so great an injury to 
 our community as to remove your missionary from 
 us?" 
 
 " Ah, you consider that a loss, Father Mike? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly, sir. A great and serious loss. He 
 was a high type of a man. I will quote as expressing 
 my opinions, the words of a gentleman whose judg- 
 ment would, I suppose, be considered in this com- 
 munity as final on all such matters General Brady, 
 sir. I think you know him. This is what I heart? 
 him say. * He is an able preacher and a Christian 
 gentleman.' ' 
 
 " Thank you, sir. Thank you, sir," said the Super- 
 intendent. " I thank you for your warm apprecia- 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 367 
 
 tion of one whom, after short acquaintance, I re- 
 garded as you do." 
 
 It was Father Mike who drove the Superintendent 
 to Loon Lake next day, only to find Shock away from 
 home. 
 
 " We will inquire at the stopping-place," said 
 Father Mike. 
 
 " Let us see," said the Superintendent, who never 
 forgot a name or a face, " does Carroll keep that still? 
 He did five years ago." 
 
 " Yes, and here he is," said Father Mike. " Hello, 
 Carroll. Can you tell me where your minister is ? " 
 
 " Be jabers, it's a search warrant you'll need for 
 him, I'm thinkin'. Ask Perault there. Perault, do 
 you know where the preacher is ? " 
 
 " Oui. He's go 'way for prospect, sure." 
 
 " Prospecting ? " inquired Father Mike. 
 
 " Oui," grinned Perault, " dat's heem, one pros- 
 pector. Every day, every day he's pass on de trail, 
 over de hill, down de coulee, all overe." 
 
 " He does, eh? " said Father Mike, delighted at the 
 description of his friend. "What is he after? 
 Coal?" 
 
 "Coal!" echoed Perault with contempt. "Not 
 moche. He's go for find de peep 5 . He's dig 'em up 
 on de church, by gar." 
 
 " You see, Doctor," said Father Mike, " no ane has 
 any chance here with your fellow. There's Carroll, 
 now, and Perault, they are properly Roman Catholic, 
 but now they are good Presbyterians." 
 
 " Bon, for sure. Eh, Carroll, mon ga^on? " 
 
368 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Bedad, an' it's thrue for ye," said Carroll. 
 
 It was no small tribute to Shock's influence that 
 the ancient feud between these two had been laid to 
 rest. 
 
 " Well, do you know when he will be home ? " asked 
 Father Mike. 
 
 " I go for fin' out," said Perault, running into his 
 house, and returning almost immediately. " To-mor- 
 row for sure. Mebbe to-night." 
 
 " Well, Carroll, this is your minister's bishop. I 
 suppose you can look after him till Mr. Macgregor 
 comes home." 
 
 " An' that we can, sir. Come right in," said Car- 
 roll readily. " Anny friend of the Prospector, as we 
 call him, is welcome to all in me house, an' that he is." 
 
 That afternoon and evening the Superintendent 
 spent listening in the pauses of his letter writing to 
 the praises of the missionary, and to a description, 
 with all possible elaboration and ornament, of the 
 saving of little Patsey's lif e, in which even the doctor's 
 skill played a very subordinate part. 
 
 " An' there's Patsey himself, the craythur," said 
 Mrs. Carroll, " an' will he luk at his father or meself 
 when his riverince is by? An' he'll follie him out an' 
 bey ant on that little pony of his." 
 
 The Superintendent made no remark, but he kept 
 quietly gathering information. In Perault's house 
 it was the same. Perault, Josie, and Marion sang in 
 harmony the praises of Shock. 
 
 Late at night Shock returned bringing the doctor 
 with him, both weary and spent with the long, hard 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 369 
 
 day's work. From Perault, who was watching for 
 his return, he heard of the arrival of the Superinten- 
 dent. He was much surprised and mortified that his 
 Superintendent should have arrived in his absence, 
 and should have found no one to welcome him. 
 
 " Tell Josie and Marion," he said to Perault, " to 
 get mj room ready," and, weary as he was, he went 
 to greet his chief. 
 
 He found him, as men were accustomed to find him, 
 busy with his correspondence. The Superintendent 
 rose up eagerly to meet his missionary. 
 
 " How do you do, sir, how do you do ? I am very 
 glad to see you," and he gripped Shock's hand with 
 a downward pull that almost threw him off his balance. 
 
 " I wish to assure you," said the Superintendent, 
 when the greetings were over, " I wish to assure you," 
 and his voice took its deepest tone, " of my sincere 
 sympathy with you in your great loss. It was my 
 privilege to be present at your mother's funeral, and 
 to say a few words. You have a great and noble 
 heritage in your mother's memory. She was beautiful 
 in her life, and she was beautiful in death." 
 
 Poor Shock! The unexpected tender reference to 
 his mother, the brotherly touch, and the vision that 
 he had from the Superintendent's words of his mother, 
 beautiful in death, were more than he could bear. His 
 emotions overwhelmed him. He held the Superinten- 
 dent's hand tight in his, struggling to subdue the sobs 
 that heaved up from his labouring breast. 
 
 " I suppose," continued the Superintendent, giving 
 him time to recover himself, " my last letter failed to 
 
370 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 reach you. I had expected to be here two weeks later, 
 but I wrote changing my arrangements so as to ar- 
 rive here to-day. " 
 
 " No, sir," said Shock, " no letter making any 
 change reached rne. I am very sorry indeed, not to 
 have met you, and I hope you were not much incon- 
 venienced." 
 
 " Not at all, sir, not at all. Indeed, I was very glad 
 to have the opportunity of spending a little time at 
 the Fort, and meeting some of your friends. By the 
 way, I met a friend of yours on my journey down, 
 who wished to be remembered to you, Bill Lee of 
 Spruce Creek. You remember him ? " 
 
 " Oh, perfectly. Bill is a fine fellow," said Shock, 
 enthusiasticalty. 
 
 " Yes, Bill has his points. He has quit whiskey sell- 
 ing, he said, and he wished that you should know that. 
 He said you would know the reason why." 
 
 But Shock knew of no reason, and he only replied, 
 " Bill was very kind to me, and I am glad to know of 
 the change in him." 
 
 u Yes," continued the Superintendent, " and I 
 spent some time at the Fort meeting with some of the 
 people, but upon inquiries I am more puzzled than 
 ever to find a reason for the withdrawal of our serv- 
 ices, and I am still in the dark about it." 
 
 Shock's face flushed a deep red. 
 
 " I am afraid," he said, in a shamed and hesitating 
 manner, " that I was not the right man for the place. 
 I think I rather failed at the Fort." 
 
 " I saw Macfarren," continued the Superintendent, 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 371 
 
 ignoring Shock's remark. " He tried to explain, but 
 seemed to find it difficult." The Superintendent 
 omitted to say that he had heard from Father Mike 
 what might have explained in a measure Macfarren's 
 opposition. But Shock remained silent. 
 
 " Well," continued the Superintendent, " now that 
 I am here, what do you wish me to do ? " 
 
 " First," said Shock, " come over to my house. 
 Come to the manse. Carroll will not mind*" 
 
 The Superintendent put his papers together, and 
 Shock, shouldering his valise and coat, led the way 
 to the manse. 
 
 As they entered the big room the Superintendent 
 paused to observe its proportions, noted the library 
 shelves full of books, the organ in the corner, the 
 pictures adorning the walls, and without much com- 
 ment passed on upstairs to Shock's own room. But 
 he did not fail to detect a note of pride in Shock's 
 voice as he gave him welcome. 
 
 " Come in, come in and sit down. I hope you will 
 be comfortable. It is rather rough." 
 
 " Rough, sir," exclaimed the Superintendent. " It 
 is palatial. It is truly magnificent. I was quite un- 
 prepared for anything like this. Now tell me how 
 was this accomplished? " 
 
 " Oh," said Shock, diffidently, " they all helped, and 
 here it is." 
 
 "That is all, eh?" 
 
 And that was all Shock would tell. The rest of 
 the story, however, the Superintendent heard from 
 others. And so, throughout his whole visit the Super- 
 
372 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 intendent found it impossible to get his missionary 
 to tell of his own labours, and were it not that he car- 
 ried an observant and experienced eye, and had a skil- 
 ful and subtle inquisitorial method, he might have 
 come and gone knowing little of the long, weary days 
 and weeks of toil that lay behind the things that 
 stood accomplished in that field. 
 
 It was the same at the Pass. There stood the 
 hospital equipped, almost free from debt, and work- 
 ing in harmony with the camps and the miners. 
 There, too, was the club room and the library. 
 
 " And how was all this brought about ? " inquired 
 the Superintendent. 
 
 " Oh, The Don and the doctor took hold, and the 
 men all helped." 
 
 The Superintendent said nothing, but his eyes were 
 alight with a kindly smile as they rested on his big 
 missionary, and he took his arm in a very close grip 
 as they walked from shack to shack. 
 
 All this time Shock was pouring into his Superin- 
 tendent's ear tales of the men who lived in the moun- 
 tains beyond the Pass. He spoke of their hardships, 
 their sufferings, their temptations, their terrible vices 
 and their steady degradation. 
 
 " And have you visited them? "'inquired the Super- 
 intendent. 
 
 He had not been able to visit them as much as he 
 would have liked, but he had obtained information 
 from many of the miners and lumbermen as to their 
 whereabouts, and as to the conditions under which 
 they lived and wrought. Shock was talking to a man 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 373 
 
 of like mind. The Superintendent's eye, like that of 
 his missionary, was ever upon the horizon, and his 
 desires ran far ahead of his vision. 
 
 It was from The Don that the Superintendent 
 learned of afl Shock's work in the past, and of all 
 that had been done to counteract the terrible evils 
 that were the ruin of the lumbermen and miners. 
 Won by the Superintendent's sympathy, The Don 
 unburdened his heart and told him his own story of 
 how, in his hour of misery and despair, Shock had 
 stood his friend and saved him from shame and ruin. 
 
 " Yes, sir," The Don concluded, " more than I shall 
 ever be able to repay he has done for me, and," he 
 added humbly, " if I have any hope for the future, 
 that too I owe to him." 
 
 " You have cause to thank God for your friend, 
 sir," said the Superintendent, " and he has no reason 
 to be ashamed of his friend. You are doing noble 
 work, sir, in this place, noble work." 
 
 A visit to the. nearest lumber camp and mines, a 
 public meeting in the hospital, and the Superinten- 
 dent's work at the Pass for the time was done. 
 
 As he was leaving the building The Don called him 
 into his private room. 
 
 " I wish to introduce you to our nurse," he said. 
 " We think a great deal of her, and we owe much to 
 her," and he left them together. 
 
 " I asked to see you," said Nellie, " because I want 
 your advice and help. They need to have more nurses 
 here than one, and no one will come while I am here." 
 
 The Superintendent gazed at her, trying to make 
 
374 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 her out. She tried to proceed with her tale but failed, 
 and, abandoning all reserve, told him with many tears 
 the story of her sin and shame. 
 
 " And now," she said, " for the sake of the hos- 
 pital and the doctor I must go away, and I want to 
 find a place where I can begin again." 
 
 As the Superintendent heard her story his eyes 
 began to glisten under his shaggy brows. 
 
 " My dear child," he said at length, " you have had 
 a hard life, but the Saviour has been good to you. 
 Come with me, and I will see what can be done. 
 When can you corne ? " 
 
 " When the doctor says," she replied. 
 
 "Very well," said the Superintendent, "I shall 
 arrange it with him," and that was the beginning of 
 a new life for poor Nellie. 
 
 The last meeting of the Superintendent's visit was 
 at Loon Lake, after the Sunday evening service. The 
 big room was crowded with people gathered from the 
 country far and near, from the Fort to the Pass, to 
 hear the great man. And he was worth while hearing 
 that day. His imagination kindled by his recent 
 sight of the terrible struggle that men were making 
 toward cleanness, and toward heaven and God, and 
 the vision he had had through the eyes of his mis- 
 sionary of the regions beyond, caused his speech to 
 glow and burn. 
 
 For an hour and more they listened with hearts 
 attent, while he spoke to them of their West, its re- 
 sources, its possibilities, and laid upon them their 
 responsibility as those who were determining its 
 
THE REGIONS BEYOND 375 
 
 future for the multitudes that were to follow. His 
 appeal for men and women to give themselves to the 
 service of God and of their country, left them thrill- 
 ing with visions, hopes and longings. 
 
 In the meeting that always followed the evening 
 service, the people kept crowding about Kim, refusing 
 to disperse. Then the Superintendent began again. 
 
 " Your minister has been telling me much about 
 the men in the mountains. He seems to have these 
 men upon his heart." 
 
 " Sure," said Ike. " He's a regular prospector, he 
 is." 
 
 " So I have heard, so I have heard," said the Super- 
 intendent, smiling, " and so I should judge from what 
 I have seen. Now, what are you going to do about 
 it?" 
 
 They all grew quiet. 
 
 " You know about these men, no one else does. Are 
 you going to let them go to destruction without an 
 attempt to prevent it? " 
 
 The silence deepened. 
 
 " Now, listen to me. This will cost money. How 
 much can you give to send a man to look them up?, 
 Two hundred and fifty dollars? " 
 
 " Count me," said Ike. 
 
 " Me, too," echoed Perault. " And me, and me," 
 on all sides. In ten minutes the thing was arranged. 
 
 " Now, there is something else," said the Superin- 
 tendent, and his voice grew deep and solemn. " Can 
 you spare me your man ? " 
 
 " No, sir ! " said the Kid, promptly. 
 
376 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Not much-! " echoed Perault, and in this feeling 
 all emphatically agreed. 
 
 "Do you know where we can get such a man?" 
 said the Superintendent, " such a prospector? " 
 There was no answer. " I do not either. Now, 
 what are you going to do ? " 
 
 Then Sinclair spoke up. 
 
 " Do you mean, Doctor, to remove Mr. Macgregor 
 from us? That would seem to be very hard upon this 
 field." 
 
 " Well, perhaps not ; but can you spare him for six 
 months, at least? " 
 
 For some minutes no one made reply. Then Ike 
 spoke. 
 
 " Well, I surmise we got a good deal from our 
 Prospector. In fact, what we ain't got from him 
 don't count much. And I rather opine that we can't 
 be mean about this. It's a little like pullin' hair, but 
 I reckon we'd better give him up." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said the Superintendent, who 
 had learned much from Ike throughout the day. 
 " Your words are the best commentary I have ever 
 heard upon a saying of our Lord's, that has inspired 
 men to all unselfish living, ' Freely ye have received, 
 freely give.' ' 
 
XX 
 
 THE NEW POLICY 
 
 IT was still early spring when Shock received a 
 letter from Brown, a letter full of perplexity 
 and love and wrath. 
 
 " Something has gone wrong," he wrote. 
 " You have got to come down here and straighten it 
 out. I can plainly see that Mrs. Fairbanks is at the 
 bottom of it, but just what she is at I cannot discover. 
 Helen I do not now see much. The changes in our 
 life, you see, have been very great. I cannot bear to 
 go to the house now. The associations are too much 
 for me. Besides, Lloyd seems to have taken possession 
 of the whole family. The old lady flatters and fondles 
 him in a manner that makes my gorge rise. It is 
 quite evident she wants him for her son-in-law, and 
 more than evident that he entirely concurs. 
 
 " Just what Helen thinks of it I am at a loss to 
 know, but I cannot believe she can stand Lloyd any 
 more than I can. Up till recently she was very open 
 with me and very loyal to you, but of late a change 
 has taken place, and what in thunder is the matter, 
 I cannot make out. Have you done or said anything? 
 Have you been guilty of any high-falutin' nonsense 
 of giving her up, and that sort of thing? I fear she 
 is avoiding me just now, and I feel certain she has 
 been misled in some way, so you must come down. 
 
 377 
 
378 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 You really must. Of course you will say you can- 
 not afford it, but this is too serious a thing for any 
 excuse like that. Will not your confounded High- 
 land pride let me loan you enough to bring you down. 
 Anyway, come, if you have to walk." 
 
 It must be confessed that Brown's letter produced 
 little effect upon Shock's mind. The bitterness of 
 his surrender was past, so, at least, he thought. The 
 happy dream he had cherished for a year was gone 
 forever. He was quite certain that it was not Brown's 
 but the Superintendent's letter that determined him 
 to accept appointment as a delegate to the General 
 Assembly. 
 
 " I have no right to command you in this," the 
 Superintendent wrote. " I wish I had. But I need 
 you, and for the sake of the men you and I know, 
 I wish you to come down to the Assembly and meet 
 the Committee." 
 
 It was undoubtedly the Superintendent's letter, 
 and yet that sudden leap of his heart as he read his 
 chief 's ' entreaty startled him. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " he said, shutting his jaws hard to- 
 gether. " That is all done with." And yet he knew 
 that it would be a joy almost too great to endure to 
 catch a glimpse of the face that still came to him 
 night by night in his dreams, to hear her voice, and 
 to be near her. 
 
 So Shock came down, and his coming brought very 
 different feelings to different hearts, to Brown the 
 very news of it brought mad, wild delight. He rushed 
 to find Helen. 
 
THE NEW POLICY 379 
 
 " He is coming down," he cried. 
 
 " Is he? " replied Helen, eagerly. " Who? " 
 
 " I have seen his chief," continued Brown, ignor- 
 ing the question. " He has had a wire. He'll be here 
 day after to-morrow. Oh, let me yell ! The dear old 
 beast! If we could only get him into a jersey, and 
 see him bleed." 
 
 " Don't, Brownie," said Helen, using her pet name 
 for her friend. They had grown to be much to each 
 other during the experiences of the past year. " It 
 suggests too much." 
 
 " I forgot," said Brown, penitently. " Forgive 
 me. It will be hard for you." 
 
 "And for him. Poor Shock," said Helen. "Don't 
 let him go to his home." 
 
 " Not if I can help it," replied Brown. 
 
 " And don't don't talk about me much." 
 
 " Not if I can help it," replied Brown again, this 
 time with a suspicion of a smile. 
 
 " Now, Brownie, I want you to help me," said 
 Helen. " It is hard enough. There is nothing be- 
 tween us now. He wishes it to be so, and after all, 
 I do too." 
 
 " You do ? Look me in the face and say you do." 
 
 Helen looked him steadily in the face, and said, 
 quietly, " Yes, I do. In all sincerity I believe it is 
 far better so. Mother is quite determined, and she 
 has only me. It is the only thing possible, so I want 
 you to help me." 
 
 " And all that that that thing last spring was 
 a farce a mistake, I mean?" 
 
680 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Yes, a mistake. An awful mistake. You see," 
 explained Helen, hurriedly, " I was dreadfully ex- 
 cited, and well, you know, I made a fool of myself. 
 And so, Brownie, you must help me." 
 
 "Help you how? To keep him off ? That won't 
 be hard. Tell him it was all a mistake last spring 
 and that you regret it, and you won't need to do any- 
 thing else, if I know him." 
 
 " I have at least mother has told him." 
 
 "Your mother?" gasped Brown. "Then that 
 settles it. Good-by. I did not expect this of you." 
 
 " Come back, Brownie. You know you are unkind, 
 and you must not desert me." 
 
 " Well, what in heaven's name do you want me to 
 do? Keep him off? " 
 
 " Oh 5 1 do not know," said Helen, breaking through 
 her calm. " I don't know. What can I do? " 
 
 "Do?" said Brown. "Let him tell you." He 
 had great faith in Shock's powers. 
 
 But the next two days were days of miserable 
 anxiety to Brown. If Shock would only do as he was 
 told and act like an ordinary man, Brown had no 
 doubt of the issue. 
 
 " Oh, if he'll only play up," he groaned to him- 
 self, in a moment of desperation. " If he'll only 
 play up he'll take all that out of her in about three 
 minutes." 
 
 The only question was, would he play. Brown 
 could only trust that in some way kind Providence 
 would come to his aid. On the afternoon of the 
 second day, the day of Shock's arrival, his hope was 
 
THE NEW POLICY 381 
 
 realized, and he could not but feel that Fortune had 
 sondescended to smile a little upon him. 
 
 Shock's train was late. The Superintendent had 
 sought Brown out, and adjured him by all things 
 sacred to produce his man at the committee meeting 
 at the earliest possible moment, and this commission 
 Brown had conscientiously fulfilled. 
 
 Toward evening he met Helen downtown, and was 
 escorting her homeward when they fell in with Tommy 
 Phillips, a reporter for the Times. He was evidently 
 :n a state of considerable excitement. 
 
 " I have just had a great experience," he exclaimed. 
 " I was down this afternoon at your church com- 
 mittee, and I tell you I had a circus. There was a 
 big chap there from the wild and woolly, and he 
 made 'em sit up. Why, you know him, I guess. 
 He's that 'Varsity football chap the fellows used to 
 rave about." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know," said Brown. " Macgregor. 
 Shock, we used to call him." 
 
 " Yes. of course. I remember I saw him last year 
 at the McGill match." 
 
 " Well, what was up ? " said Brown, scenting some- 
 thing good. " Let us have it. Do the reporter act." 
 
 " Well, it's good copy, let me tell you, but I don't 
 want to allow my professional zeal to obliterate my 
 sense of the decencies of polite society." 
 
 " Go on," said Brown, " I want to hear. You 
 know, I played quarter behind him for three years, 
 and Miss Fairbanks is interested, I know." 
 
 " You did? Well, if he bucked up as he did this 
 
382 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 afternoon, you must have had good hunting. Well, 
 then, when that committee met you never saw a more 
 solemn-looking bunch in your life. You would think 
 they had all lost their mothers-in-law. And when they 
 broke up they didn't know but they were standing on 
 their heads." 
 
 " What was the matter? " 
 
 " Oh, there was a big deficit on, and they had to 
 go up to your big council conference what do 
 you call it in your pagan outfit? Assembly? Yes s 
 that's it and take their medicine. Twenty thousand 
 dollars of a debt. Well, sir, on the back of all that 
 didn't their Grand Mogul archbishop you know, 
 from the West no, not Macgregor their chief 
 pusher. Superintendent? Yes come in and put an 
 ice pack on them in the shape of a new scheme for 
 exploration and extension in the Kootenay country, 
 the Lord knows where, some place out of sight. Well, 
 you ought to have heard him. He burned red fire, 
 you bet. Pardon my broken English, Miss Fair- 
 banks." 
 
 " Go on," said Helen, " I like it," and Brown gave 
 himself a little hug. 
 
 " I am glad you do," continued Tommy, " for it is 
 bad enough to write copy without having to speak it. 
 Well, the war began, some in favour of the scheme, 
 some against, but all hopeless in view of the present 
 state of finances. Better wait a little, and that sort 
 of talk. Then, let's see what happened. Oh, yes. 
 The question of the man came up. Who was the 
 man? The Superintendent was ready for 'em. It 
 
THE NEW POLICY 383 
 
 was Macgregor of some place. Frog Lake? No, 
 Loon Lake. Then the opposition thought they had 
 him with a half-nelson. Old Dr. Macfarren jumped 
 on to the chief with both feet. His man was no good, 
 a flat failure in his field, no tact. Beg your pardon, 
 Miss Fairbanks. What did you say ? " 
 
 " Oh, never mind," said Helen. " Go on." 
 
 " He appealed for corroboration to his friend, the 
 chap up at Park Church, you know, that sleek, kid- 
 gloved fellow." ' 
 
 "Burns?" asked Brown, innocently, delighted in 
 the reporter's description of Lloyd and desiring more 
 of it. 
 
 " No. You know that orator chap, liquid eyes, 
 mellifluous voice, and all the rest of it." 
 
 " Oh, Lloyd." 
 
 " Yes. Well, he took a whirl and backed up 
 Macfarren. Evidently didn't think much of the 
 Superintendent's choice. Remarked about his being 
 a Highlander, .a man of visions and that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 " What else did he say? " inquired Brown, who was 
 in a particularly happy mood. 
 
 " Oh, a lot of stuff, in his most lordly, patronizing 
 tone. Macgregor was a very good, earnest fellow, 
 but he should judge him to be lacking in tact or 
 adaptability, fine sensibilities, and that sort of rot. 
 But never mind. Didn't he catch it ! Oh, no. My 
 Sally Ann! Boiling lard and blue vitriol, and all 
 in the chief's most sweet-scented lavender style, though 
 all the time I could see the danger lights burning 
 
384 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 through his port-holes. I tell you I've had my di- 
 minished moments, but I don't think I was ever re- 
 duced to such a shade as the Park Church chap when 
 the Superintendent was through with him. Serve him 
 right, too." 
 
 "What did the Superintendent say?" continued 
 Brown, delighted to find somebody who would express 
 his own sentiments with more force and fulness than 
 he could command. 
 
 "Say! Well, I wish I could tell you. < Mr. Lloyd 
 says he is a Highlander. Yes, he is, thank God. So 
 am I. He is a man of visions. Yes, he has vision 
 beyond the limits of his own congregation and of his 
 own native cross-roads, vision for what lies beyond 
 the horizon, vision for those men in the mountains who 
 are going to the devil.' A quotation, Miss Fairbanks, 
 I assure you. ' These miners and lumbermen, for- 
 gotten by all but their mothers, and God.' Say, it 
 was great. If I could reproduce it there would be 
 a European trip in it. Then he turned on Dr. Mac- 
 farren. It seems that Macgregor somehow had to 
 quit some place in the West on the plea that he was 
 not adaptable, and that sort of thing. * Dr. Mac- 
 farren says he was a failure,' went on the old chief, 
 using at least five r's, * Mr. Lloyd says he is not 
 adaptable, he is lacking in fine sensibilities. It is true 
 God did not make him with sleek hair' which, by 
 Jove, was true enough ' and dainty fingers. And 
 a good thing it was, else our church at Loon Lake, 
 built by his own hands, the logs cut, shaped and set 
 in place, sir, by his own hands, would never have 
 
THE NEW POLICY 385 
 
 existed. He was a failure at the Fort, we are told. 
 Why? I made inquiries concerning that. I was 
 told by a gentleman who calls himself a Presbyterian 
 I need not mention his name that he was not suit- 
 able to the peculiarly select and high-toned society of 
 that place. No, sir, our missionary could not bow 
 and scrape, he was a failure at tennis, he did not shine 
 at card parties,' and here you could smell things 
 sizzling. ' He could not smile upon lust. No, thank 
 God ! ' and the old chap's voice began to quiver and 
 shake. ' In all this he was a failure, and would to 
 God we had more of the same kind ! ' ' Amen,' 
 'Thank God,' 'That's true,' the men around the 
 table cried. I thought I had struck a Methodist re- 
 vival meeting." 
 
 "What else did he say?" said Brown, who could 
 hardly contain himself for sheer delight. 
 
 " Well, he went on then to yarn about Macgregor's 
 work how a church and club house had been built 
 in one place, and a hospital and all that sort of thing, 
 in another, and then he told us stories of the differ- 
 ent chaps who had been apparently snatched from 
 the mouth of hell by Macgregor, and were ready to 
 lie down and let him walk over them. It was great. 
 There was an Irishman and a Frenchman, I remem- 
 ber, both Roman Catholics, but both ready to swallow 
 the Confession of Faith if the Prospector ordered 
 them. Yes, that was another point. Macgregor, it 
 seems, was a regular fiend for hunt-ing up fellows and 
 rooting them out to church, and so they dubbed him 
 the Prospector.' The old chief stuck that in, I tell 
 
386 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 you. Then there was a doctor and, oh, a lot of chaps, 
 a cowboy fellow named Ike, who was particularly 
 good copy if one could reproduce him. And then " 
 here Tommy hesitated "well, it's worth while tell- 
 ing. There was a girl who had gone wrong, and had 
 been brought back. To hear the chief tell that yarn 
 was pretty fine. I don't turn the waterworks on with- 
 out considerable pressure, but I tell you my tanks 
 came pretty near overflowing when he talked about 
 that poor girl. And then, at the most dramatic mo- 
 ment that old chap knows his business he brought 
 on Macgregor, announcing him as 6 the Prospector 
 of Frog Lake, no, Loon Lake.' Well, he was not 
 much to look at. His hair was not slick, and his 
 beard looked a little like a paint brush, his pants ran 
 up on his boots, and bagged at the knees." 
 
 " He had just come off the train," hastily inter- 
 posed Brown, " He hadn't a moment to dress him- 
 self." 
 
 " Well, as I say, he wasn't pretty to look at, and 
 they gave him a kind of frosty reception, too." 
 
 " Well, what happened? " inquired Brown, anxious 
 to get over this part of the description. 
 
 " Well, they began firing questions at him hot and 
 fast. He was a little rattled for a while, but after 
 a bit he got into his stride, put down his map, laid 
 out his country and began pouring in his fa-cts, till 
 when they let him out they looked for all the world 
 like a lot of men who had been struck by a whirlwind 
 and were trying to get back their breath and other 
 belongings." 
 
THE NEW POLICY 387 
 
 " Well, what did they do then? " 
 
 " Oh, the thing passed, I guess. I left 'em and 
 went after the man from the West. I thought I had 
 struck oil. I had visions too." 
 
 " Well, did you get him? " 
 
 " I did, but there was not any oil. It was rock, 
 hard, cold Scotch granite. I'm something of a borer, 
 but I tell you what, he turned my edge. It was no 
 use. He wouldn't talk." 
 
 " Good by. Come around and see your man at my 
 rooms," said Brown heartily. " I'll pump him for 
 you, and you can catch the oil." 
 
 " You will, eh? All right, set a mug for me." 
 
 " Great boy, that Tommy," said Brown, who was 
 smitten with a sudden enthusiastic admiration for 
 the reporter. " Clever chap. He'll make his mark 
 yet." 
 
 Helen walked for some distance in silence. 
 
 " Is is he is Mr. Macgregor with you? " she 
 inquired at length. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Macgregor is with me," mimicked 
 Brown. " Will you send him a card ? " 
 
 " Now, Brownie, stop," said Helen in distress. 
 " He has not been home yet, has he? " 
 
 "No. Why?" 
 
 " Could you keep him away till about eleven to- 
 morrow? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I might. He has got to get some 
 clothes and get some of the wool off him. But why 
 do you ask? " 
 
 " Well, I thought I would just run in and dust, and 
 
388 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 put some flowers up, and, you know, make it a little 
 more homelike." 
 
 " Helen, you're a brick. I had decided to drop 
 you because I didn't love you, but I am changing my 
 mind." 
 
 " Well, do not let him go before eleven. Every- 
 thing will be right by that time." 
 
 " Good ! " said Brown, with an ebullition of rap- 
 ture, which he immediately suppressed as Helen's 
 eyes were turned inquiringly upon him. " You see," 
 he explained hurriedly, " he has been in the West and 
 will need to get a lot of things, and that will give 
 you plenty of time. There's my car. Good-by. We 
 have had a happy afternoon, eh? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, very happy, thank you," said Helen, but 
 ^he could not quite suppress a little sigh. 
 
 " Well, good-by," said Brown, and he went off 
 jubilant to his car. 
 
 He sat down in a corner, and thought hard till he 
 came to his street. " If he'll only play up we'll win, 
 sure thing. But will he, confound him, will he? 
 Well, the kick-off will be to-morrow." 
 
 He found Shock waiting in his rooms, with a face 
 jo grave and so sad that Brown's heart grew sore 
 for him. 
 
 " Come on, old chap, we'll go to grub. But first 
 I am going to groom you a bit. We'll take a foot or 
 two off your hair since the football season is over; 
 and I think," examining him critically, " we can 
 spare that beard, unless you are very fond of it." 
 
 Shock protested that he had no particular love for 
 
THE NEW POLICY 389 
 
 his beard; it was better for the cold weather, and it 
 was not always convenient for him to shave. 
 
 When the barber had finished with Shock, Brown 
 regarded him with admiration. 
 
 " You are all right, old chap. I say, you've got 
 thin, haven't you? " 
 
 " No, I am pretty much in my playing form." 
 
 " Well, there is something different." And there 
 was. The boyish lines of his face had given place 
 to those that come to men with the cares and griefs 
 and responsibilities of life. And as Brown looked 
 over Shock's hard, lean face, he said again, with em- 
 phasis, " You'U do." 
 
 After dinner Shock wandered about the rooms un- 
 easily for a time, and finally said, " I say, Brown, I 
 would like to go up home, if you don't mind." They 
 had not yet spoken of what each knew was uppermost 
 in the other's mind. 
 
 "All right, Shock. But wouldn't it be better in 
 the morning? " 
 
 " I want to go to-night," said Shock. 
 
 " Well, if you are bound to, we will go up in an 
 hour or two. There's a lot of things I want to talk 
 about, and some things to arrange," replied Brown, 
 hoping that in the meantime something might turn 
 up to postpone the visit till the morning. 
 
 For a second time that day Fortune smiled upon 
 Brown, for hardly had they settled down for a talk 
 when the Superintendent appeared. 
 
 " I am glad to find you in," he said, giving Shock's 
 hand a vigorous shake. " I came to offer you my 
 
390 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 congratulations upon your appearance this afternoon, 
 and also to tell you that the Committee have ap- 
 pointed you to address the Assembly on Home Mis- 
 sion night." 
 
 " Hooray ! " cried Brown. " Your Committee, 
 Doctor, is composed of men who evidently know a 
 good thing when they see it." 
 
 " Sometimes, Mr. Brown, sometimes," said the 
 Superintendent, shrewdly. 
 
 But Shock refused utterly and absolutely. 
 
 "I am no speaker," he said. "I am a failure as 
 a speaker." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Macgregor, I will not take your re- 
 fusal to-night. It is the Committee's request, and 
 you ought to hesitate before refusing it." 
 
 "A man can do no more than his best," said Shock, 
 " and I know I cannot speak." 
 
 " Well, think it over," said the Superintendent, 
 preparing to go. 
 
 " Oh, sit down, sit down," cried Brown. " You 
 must want to have a talk with Shock here, and I want 
 to hear all about this afternoon." 
 
 " Well," said the Superintendent, seating himself, 
 " it is not often I have a chance to talk with a Pros- 
 pector, so I will accept your invitation." And by the 
 time the talk was done it was too late for Shock to 
 think of visiting his home, and Brown went asleep 
 with the happy expectation of what he called the 
 " kick-off " next day. 
 
XXI 
 
 THE WAITING GAME 
 
 BROWN was early astir. He knew that he could 
 not keep Shock so fully employed as to pre- 
 vent his going home long before ten o'clock, 
 and it was part of his plan that Shock's first 
 meeting with Helen should take place in his own 
 mother's house. 
 
 " The first thing we must do," he announced, " is 
 to see a tailor. If you are going to address the 
 General Assembly you have got to get proper togs. 
 And anyway, you may as well get a suit before 
 you go West again. I know a splendid tailor cheap, 
 too." 
 
 " Well, he will need to be cheap," said Shock, " for 
 I cannot afford much for clothes." 
 
 " Well, I will see about that," said Brown. So he 
 did, for after some private conversation with the 
 tailor, the prices quoted to Shock were quite within 
 even his small means. 
 
 It was half-past nine before they reached Shock's 
 home. Brown took the key out of his pocket, opened 
 the door, and allowed Shock to enter, waiting outside 
 for a few moments. 
 
 When he followed Shock in he found him still stand- 
 ing in the centre of the little room, looking about 
 
 391 
 
S92 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 upon the familiar surroundings, the articles of fur- 
 niture, the pictures on the wall, his mother's chair 
 beside the table, with her Bible and glasses at 
 hand. 
 
 As Brown came in Shock turned to him and said, 
 " Is this some more of your kindness, Brown? Have 
 you taken this care of everything ? " 
 
 " No," said Brown, " that is not my work. Every 
 week since the house was closed Helen has come over 
 and kept things right.'* 
 
 Without any reply Shock passed into his mother's 
 room, leaving Brown alone. 
 
 When half an hour had passed, Brown, glancing 
 out of the window, saw Helen approaching. 
 
 " Thank goodness ! " he exclaimed, " here she is at 
 last." 
 
 He opened the door for her. 
 
 " Oh, good morning," she exclaimed in surprise. 
 " I am sure this is very kind of you." 
 
 " Yes, I thought I would help," said Brown in a 
 loud voice. " You see, Shock was anxious to come, 
 and I thought I would come up with him. He is in 
 the next room. He will be out in a minute. We were 
 coming up last night, but could not get away. The 
 Superintendent dropped in, and we talked till it was 
 too late." Brown kept the stream of his remarks 
 flowing as if he feared a pause. 
 
 Helen laid the bunch of flowers she was carrying in 
 her hand upon the table. 
 
 " Oh, Brown," she exclaimed, " how could you ! 
 This is very unkind." She turned to go. 
 
THE WAITING GAME 
 
 " Hold on," said Brown in a loud voice. " Shock 
 will be here in a minute. He'll be sorry to miss you, 
 I am sure." 
 
 For a moment Helen stood irresolute, when the door 
 opened and Shock, pale, but quiet and self-controlled, 
 appeared. He had just been face to face for the 
 first time with his great grief. The thought that 
 filled his mind, overwhelming all others, was that his 
 mother had passed forever beyond the touch of his 
 hand and the sound of his voice. Never till that 
 moment had he taken in the full meaning of the change 
 that had come to his life. 
 
 During the minutes he had spent in his mother's 
 room he had allowed his mind to go back over the 
 long years so full of fond memory, and then he had 
 faced the future. Alone henceforth he must go down 
 the long trail. By his mother's bed he had knelt, 
 and had consecrated himself again to the life she had 
 taught him to regard as worthy, and with the resolve 
 in his heart to seek to be the man she would desire 
 him to be and had expected him to be, he rose from his 
 knees. 
 
 When he opened the door the dignity of his great 
 grief and of a lofty purpose was upon him, and he 
 greeted Helen unembarrassed and with a serene con- 
 sciousness of self-mastery. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Miss Fairbanks," he said, 
 taking her hand. " I am glad that we meet here, for 
 it was here, in this house, that you gave such loving 
 and tender care to my dear mother. However long I 
 may live, whatever may come to me, I shall never for- 
 
394 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 get what you did for her through all the year, and at 
 the last." 
 
 His quiet dignity restored to Helen her self-posses- 
 sion. 
 
 " I did all I could for her. I was glad to do it, be- 
 cause I loved her. But she did more for me than ever 
 I could have done for her. Her last illness was very 
 brief, and her death was full of peace." 
 
 " Tell me," said Shock, placing a chair for her. 
 " I want to know all." 
 
 With gentle, sweet sympathy the story was told in 
 all its beautiful details, till the very end. Instinc- 
 tively Helen seemed to know the points that Shock 
 would desire to hear, and he listened to her with his 
 heart shining through his eyes. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," he said. " Never can I 
 thank you enough for all that you have done. And 
 you, too, have had your great sorrow. Brown told 
 me about it all." 
 
 At this Brown rose hastily, and looking out of the 
 window, exclaimed, " I say, there's Boyle. Wait for 
 me." 
 
 " Yes," said Helen, when Brown had gone, " it was 
 a terrible grief, and mother has never recovered from 
 it, nor will she. Betty was the life of our house. She 
 was so bright." 
 
 " Oh, bright, indeed. How well I remember her 
 brightness that night in your home." 
 
 " I remember," said Helen. " And Mr. Bal- 
 four," she continued, " The Don. He has been with 
 you? " 
 
THE WAITING GAME 395 
 
 " Yes, indeed, poor chap. And nobly he has done," 
 and Shock told of The Don and of his work in the 
 Pass. 
 
 " How good you have been," exclaimed Helen, " and 
 how much you have done. I am so thankful, and so 
 proud. We are all so proud of you." 
 
 " No," said Shock gravely, " that is not the word, 
 Miss Fairbanks. There is no room for pride." 
 
 " WeU, we think so," replied Helen. " You will 
 come to see us? Mother will be so glad." 
 
 Helen was wondering at her own calmness. She 
 could hardly make herself believe that she was talk- 
 ing to Shock, and so quietly, in this room where so 
 short a time ago he had held her in his arms. 
 
 " I do not know," replied Shock. " It may be as 
 well not to not to see much to see you." 
 
 Shock became unexpectedly conscious of their 
 previous relations. The memory of that scene in 
 which they had been the chief actors came vividly 
 before him. For weeks he had dreaded this interview, 
 and now it was almost over. He felt like a man who, 
 in the hour of victory, is unexpectedly threatened with 
 defeat. Well, sooner or later he must speak his mind 
 plainly; there would never be a better chance than 
 now, and though he wished he could get back that 
 perfect self-mastery of the past few minutes, he re- 
 solved to go through with it now. He took hold of 
 himself with a stern grip. 
 
 Helen saw it in his face. A great fear seized her. 
 She started up. 
 
 " Oh, I must run ! " she exclaimed. " You will be 
 
396 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 sure to come and see us, Mr. Macgregor. Indeed, you 
 must come." 
 
 Her manner was light, almost frivolous. Shock 
 felt the change instinctively, rea'd her fear, and de- 
 cided that the moment for speech had passed. 
 
 " Good-by," he said, looking steadily into her eyes. 
 " Good-by. God bless you for your kindness to to us 
 both." 
 
 The little catch in his voice reached the girl's heart, 
 and the tears sprang to her eyes. 
 
 " Good-by," she said hurriedly. " Good-by," and 
 was gone. 
 
 A little way down the street she met Brown. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well, it is all over. I am thankful, too. Yes, so 
 thankful." 
 
 " Well, I'U be" Brown left his sentence unfin- 
 ished and turned away from her impatiently. 
 
 He found Shock still sitting at the table, unspeak- 
 able misery showing in his eyes. 
 
 " Well, old chap," Brown said kindly, putting his 
 hand upon his friend's shoulder. 
 
 " That is over, thank God ! " said Shock. " I was 
 afraid of it, but it is over now." 
 
 " It is, eh? " said Brown crossly. " Well, let's go. 
 You're two of a kind. Come on. You'll have to get 
 at your speech now." 
 
 66 My speech? " said Shock, rising wearily. " No 
 speech for me." 
 
 " I tell you what, Shock," said Brown, with a touch 
 of impatience, " you think too much of yourself." 
 
THE WAITING GAME 397 
 
 "Do I, Brown? Well, perhaps so," said Shock, 
 humbly. 
 
 " Oh, confound your old carcass ! " cried Brown, 
 throwing his arm round Shock's neck. " You'll be my 
 death yet. At the same time, you ought to speak, and 
 I believe you will. If I know your conscience it won't 
 let you rest." 
 
 It turned out that Brown was right, for when the 
 Superintendent wrote a note to Shock asking him 
 formally on behalf of the Committee to address the 
 Assembly on Home Mission night, the last sentence in 
 his letter determined Shock to accept. 
 
 " I know what this will cost you," the Superinten- 
 dent wrote, " but the cause is not yours nor mine. It 
 is His. And for His sake I believe you will do this." 
 
 " I knew you would, old chap," said Brown exult- 
 antly. " If a fellow could get the combination of 
 your conscience he could do what he liked with you." 
 
 " Well, I suppose if they wish me to make an ex- 
 hibition of myself I should not refuse, and after all, 
 what matter how I speak? I will fail, I know, but I 
 will do my best." 
 
 " Never a fail," cried Brown. " Don't preach at 
 them. Tell them yarns. That's what your chief does. 
 Now you hear me." 
 
 This proved to be good advice, for when the chair- 
 man introduced Shock as the Prospector from Loon 
 Lake, Shock simply began, as Brown said, to " yarn." 
 
 " That is what Perault and Ike called me," were 
 his first words, and from that moment till the close of 
 his speech he had his audience leaning forward and 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 listening with ears and eyes and heart. He made no 
 attempt at fine speaking, but simply told them of his 
 friends in the West, of the men he had come to love as 
 brothers, and who had come to love him. 
 
 As they came down the steps of the Park Church, 
 where the meeting was held, Brown could hardly keep 
 pace with Helen as she danced along beside him. 
 
 " Oh, wasn't he splendid ! " she cried, " wasn't he 
 splendid!" 
 
 " Splendid? " said Brown. " There's not a word 
 big enough left." 
 
 " Oh, I am so happy," sang Helen. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter with you? " cried Brown. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, nothing," and she bubbled over with 
 happy laughter until Brown grew gloomy and cross. 
 But Helen deigned him no further explanation of her 
 overflowing joy, and left him, still sullen and some- 
 what indignant, at her door. 
 
 Her radiant face caught her mother's eye as she 
 entered the room. 
 
 " Well, my child, you are looking very happy. I 
 have not seen you look so bright for months. You 
 are very beautiful, my daughter," said her mother, 
 putting her arm around her daughter as Helen stooped 
 to kiss her. * 
 
 " Oh, mother," cried Helen, " I am very happy." 
 
 " Well, darling, it makes me happy to hear you say 
 so. Has has Mr. Lloyd spoken to you ? " 
 
 " Mr. Lloyd? " -Helen laughed gleefully. " No, 
 mother, he knows better than that. Oh, mother. 
 Shock loves me." 
 
THE WAITING GAME 
 
 " What ! Has he dared to speak after promis- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " No, mother, he has not spoken, not with his lips. 
 But I know it, I know it, and oh, I am so glad." 
 
 " What of his plain declaration to me that he had 
 given you up? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't care, mother. He has not changed," 
 cried the happy girl. " He loves me just the same as 
 ever." 
 
 " And what of the girl Mr. Ambherg told us of? " 
 
 "No, mother, there is no other girl," cried Helen. 
 * ' I don't care who told you. ' ' 
 
 "Helen, I am ashamed of you," exclaimed her 
 mother, angrily. 
 
 " Dear mother," said Helen, falling on her knees 
 and putting her arms about her mother, " I cannot 
 help loving him, and I cannot help being happy. Oh, 
 mother, he is splendid. You ought to have heard him 
 to-night, and you ought to have seen the people. 
 Why, the ministers almost hugged him. And oh, 
 mother, mother, as he came down and passed my seat, 
 he turned and looked at me. He did not expect to see 
 me, and he was off his guard, and then I knew, oh, I 
 knew. He is just the same. Oh, mother, be happy 
 with me." 
 
 Her mother burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh," she sobbed, " I thought I was to have one 
 child left. I am indeed bereaved." 
 
 " Hush, mother," cried Helen. " I will not leave 
 you." 
 
 "But you love him?" 
 
400 THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 " Yes, yes. With all my heart." 
 
 " He will not give up his work in that awful 
 country ? " 
 
 " No," said the girl proudly, " he will not, not even 
 for me. But he will love me always and I will love 
 him, and that is enough just now." 
 
 " Helen, listen to me. You will never marry him 
 with my consent," said Mrs. Fairbanks, determinedly. 
 
 " And he would never marry me without," replied 
 Helen. 
 ~ "What, then, is your future to be?" 
 
 "Oh, I will stay with you, mother darling." 
 
 " And he? " inquired Mrs. Fairbanks. 
 
 "He? Oh, I don't know, but he will always love 
 me, mother." 
 
 In desperation Mrs. Fairbanks sent next day for 
 Shock. Her one hope lay in his fine sense of honour, 
 and in his generosity. 
 
 " Mr. Macgregor," she said, when Shock stood be- 
 fore her, " I want to appeal to your generosity. You 
 will not stand in the way of my daughter's happi- 
 ness?" 
 
 " Mrs. Fairbanks, I thought I had made myself 
 clear. What more can I say or do? " 
 
 " She fancies you still love her. Could not you dis- 
 abuse her of her foolish fancy ? " 
 
 " Tell her I do not love her? " asked Shock. " That 
 I cannot do. It would be false." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Macgregor," cried Mrs. Fairbanks, 
 weeping, " if you force my child from me I will die." 
 
 Shock was greatly disturbed at her tears. 
 
THE WAITING GAME 401 
 
 "Mrs. Fairbanks, I could never force your daughter 
 away from you, but I shall always love her. Can I say 
 more? " 
 
 " I have told her," said Mrs. Fairbanks between her 
 sobs, " I will never consent to her marriage with you." 
 
 Shock's heart gave a leap. 
 
 "And what did she say?" he inquired in an un- 
 steady voice. 
 
 " She said you would not marry her without my 
 consent." 
 
 " And that is true," said Shock. 
 
 " And what, then, will you do ? * inquired Mrs. 
 Fairbanks. 
 
 Shock threw up his head, with joy illumining his 
 face. 
 
 " I we " changing the pronoun with a sudden 
 ecstasy of rapture, " we can wait." 
 
 " And how long, pray? " inquired Mrs. Fairbanks, 
 scornfully. 
 
 "How long?" He paused as if pondering the 
 question. " Forever ! " 
 
 "Shock!" 
 
 He turned quickly. There at the door, in all her 
 glorious beauty, her eyes luminous with the light of 
 love, stood Helen. 
 
 " Helen ! " he cried aloud, in his surprise. " You 
 heard! Can you? Can we? " 
 
 With a movement of ineffable grace she was at his 
 side. He put his strong arms about her. She looked 
 into his eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Shock, we can wait now." 
 
A Million and a Half Sold of 
 
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