'he 
 
 Vindication 
 
 CREIGHTON 
 
 FREDERICK FOX 

 
 The Vindication of 
 Robert Creighton
 
 "Creighton believed that every man must have three things- 
 religion, a job and a hobby."
 
 The Vindication of 
 Robert Creighton 
 
 A Tale of the Southwest 
 
 By 
 DANIEL FREDERICK FOX 
 
 NEW YORK CHICAGO 
 
 Fleming H. Revell Company 
 LONDON AND EDINBURGH
 
 Copyright, 1921, by 
 FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
 
 New York: 158 Fifth Avenue 
 Chicago : 1 7 North Wabash Ave. 
 London. 21 Paternoster Square 
 Edinburgh : 75 Princes Street
 
 To 
 
 MY SILENT PARTNER 
 this volume is dedicated 
 
 213E570 '
 
 Contents 
 
 I. QUINN'S GOLDEN TEXT ... 9 
 
 II. HITTING THE TRAIL .... 20 
 
 III. COMING BACK 29 
 
 IV. A THOROUGHBRED .... 37 
 
 V. THE NORMAN 53 
 
 VI. A MILLION-DOLLAR PROJECT . . 63 
 
 VII. WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF . 74 
 
 VIII. THE WEALTH OF THE HILLS . . 83 
 
 IX. FOLLOWING THE GLEAM ... 94 
 
 X. RAINBOWS ON PARADE . . .108 
 
 XI. THE ENCHANTED ISLAND . . .126 
 
 XII. A CAMP' FORUM . . . .137 
 
 XIII. A MASTERPIECE .... 160 
 
 XIV. FORCES THAT WIN . . . .171 
 
 XV. THE LOST LIBRARY . . . .195 
 
 XVI. BETH AND JEAN .... 214 
 
 XVII. TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL . . 226 
 
 XVIII. MISSION INN 235 
 
 XIX. THE RANGER'S CABIN . . . 246 
 
 XX. THE VINDICATION . . . .258
 
 QUINN'S GOLDEN TEXT 
 
 HIS full name was John Quincy McQuade. 
 To this there had recently been added 
 the letters " M. D." To all of his 
 friends he was known as " Quinn." By the 
 facetious among these he was sometimes referred 
 to, because of his genius in languages and his 
 hobby for linguistics, as " The Professor." Even 
 among strangers he was spoken of as " Quinn," 
 " Mr. Quinn " or " Dr. Quinn." The reader will 
 remember him as " Quinn." 
 
 He was a man of frank, striking appearance, 
 dark complexion, and brilliant eyes. 
 
 Quinn loved two things the mountains and 
 children. He loved the mountains because they 
 had given him health and a vision. He could have 
 loved no living thing more tenderly than he loved 
 the mountains. His golden text seven days in the 
 week was, " I will lift mine eyes unto the hills." 
 
 And he loved children. He loved them because 
 they were natural and told the truth. ''If they 
 are your friends," he said, " they like you for your 
 own sake and not for anything they can get out of 
 you ; children know their friends by instinct." 
 
 9
 
 10 VINDICATION OF EOBEBT CEEIGHTON 
 
 In all of his rambles, Quinn was accompanied 
 by a fine collie that answered to the name of 
 " Scotty." The two were familiar figures on the 
 mountain trails that zigzagged up from the Arroyo 
 and over the crest to Barley Flats. Sometimes 
 they even crossed the further range and came out 
 into Antelope Valley on the edge of the Mojave 
 Desert. 
 
 On a sunny day in early July, coming up the 
 trail on their return from a trip to the city, Quinn 
 and his dog, whose chief duty seemed to be to 
 carry in his mouth his master's copy of Theocritus 
 or other classic, paused for a noonday meal beside 
 the mountain stream. As he was gathering wood 
 with which to light a fire, he lifted his eyes and 
 saw, down the Arroyo, a man of middle age, with 
 a peculiar slouch in his walk, and an unusual pallor 
 in his face. 
 
 " He sure is a tenderfoot," Quinn said to himself. 
 " That complexion doesn't belong to this part of 
 the world." 
 
 The man walked slowly as if in search of some- 
 thing. He would take a few steps, then stop and 
 look around. At one time he paused as if about to 
 seat himself upon a rock close to the edge of the 
 stream, but went on. Scotty had gone up to him, 
 looked him over, and now came bounding back to 
 his master as if to say, "A friend in trouble." 
 
 " I'm all in, partner," the stranger remarked as 
 he drew near, lifting his cap and wiping the sweat
 
 QUINN'S GOLDEN TEXT 11 
 
 from his forehead. " I suppose the world looks 
 good to you, and these birds are singing songs of 
 hope into your ear, but to me it's a wail of de- 
 spair." 
 
 " Nothing wrong with the world," Quinn re- 
 plied. " The world has made good. Perhaps it's 
 you." 
 
 " Partner, you've said it," the stranger sighed. 
 " I've tried, and tried honestly to make good, but 
 I don't seem to be able to come back." 
 
 " I know that gone feeling," Quinn replied, " but 
 a square meal generally gives me the lift I need. 
 No use trying to decide weighty problems on an 
 empty stomach. Come along, have a seat on the 
 soft side of this stone, and we'll talk it over be- 
 tween bites." 
 
 As the stranger seated himself, Quinn deftly 
 built a fire, and, having heated the coffee, offered 
 the stranger a steaming cup. " Here," he said, 
 " throw a bit of this hot coffee into your system ; 
 it will hold you together until the food is ready." 
 In a twinkling, Quinn cut a smooth branch from a 
 near-by elder, upon which he spitted several strips 
 of bacon; this he hung on a couple of notched 
 twigs that were stuck into the ground beside the 
 fire. An appetizing odour soon pervaded the air 
 as the bacon sizzled and dripped above the glow- 
 ing coals, and hardly had the stranger finished his 
 coffee before Quinn was offering him a piece of 
 bread with the crisp, brown bacon upon it. "Any
 
 12 VINDICATION OF EOBEKT CEEIGHTON 
 
 preference " he said, " rare or well done, dark 
 
 or light meat ? " 
 
 The muscles in the stranger's face began to re- 
 lax as Quinn laughed heartily, his laughter re- 
 sounding through the Arroyo and the reechoing 
 hills. 
 
 " Now tell me about it, if you want to," said 
 Quinn, after they had finished the meal, " and 
 maybe we can pull together and put something 
 across that will be worth while." 
 
 " I don't know why I talked to you as I did a 
 moment ago, but you're on the square, all right," 
 responded the stranger, " and anyway, it can't be 
 worse. I'm just out of the pen." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " That accounts for the difference in our com- 
 plexions. Yours is a fine nut-brown, mine's 
 chalky. You're entitled to yours, and I'm not say- 
 ing but what I am to mine. I'm not saying I 
 don't deserve it. But listen to me. Tell me, what 
 is a man going to do who wants to make good and 
 applies for a job, and when they ask him for ref- 
 erences ? Unless he lies, he has got to say, * I'm 
 just done serving time/ I reckon you don't know 
 what I'm talking about. Have you ever been up 
 against it ? " 
 
 Scotty sat before the man, looking up into his 
 face, blinking his eyes knowingly, and pounding 
 the ground with his tail. 
 
 Quinn found himself perplexed.
 
 QUINN'S GOLDEN TEXT 13 
 
 " There ought to be some way," continued the 
 stranger, without waiting for a reply, " whereby 
 every man who wanted a job could get it. If there 
 were a job for every American, then every citizen 
 under the flag would love it. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 "You have no relatives to give you a lift?" 
 suggested Quinn. " Father, son, a brother, per- 
 haps?" 
 
 " I have a daughter," said the stranger. " I had 
 
 a brother " He broke off, his eyes wet with 
 
 sudden feeling. " I had a brother," he repeated 
 but could, or would not go on for a minute. "As 
 I was saying," he reverted, " every man in this 
 country should have a job for the asking. Look at 
 this. A poor boob is sent up, found guilty on a 
 charge of highway robbery. He snatched a 
 woman's hand-bag with a powder-puff in it, a 
 street-car transfer and thirty cents! Now, he 
 shouldn't have stolen. But he was well, never 
 mind how hard up he was in the eyes of the law, 
 he is a criminal. He serves his time. What I 
 want to know is, why doesn't the state set aside a 
 percentage of the money that that man earns, hold 
 it, and give it to him for a new start after he has 
 done his time? 
 
 " Or, here is a man who has stolen from honest 
 poor folks their hard-earned savings. He's sent 
 to the pen. Right. What I want to know is, why 
 doesn't the state make that man work until he re- 
 pays every cent of the money that he's stolen?
 
 14 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 " Or, here is a man who is doing time while his 
 wife and children are made to shift for them- 
 selves. What I want to know is, why doesn't the 
 state pay that man's wife a percentage of the 
 money he earns? Why do we make the innocent 
 suffer with the guilty ? 
 
 " Or, here is a man who has done time and now 
 they find that he was railroaded in. He is inno- 
 cent. What I want to know is, why doesn't the 
 state reimburse that man for the wrong that has 
 been done him? 
 
 " Manifestly, I can't be all of these men. I may 
 or I may not be any of them, but I tell you I know 
 some things, and when I know a thing, I know it 
 as well as anybody knows anything. 
 
 " It seems as if it would be easy enough to find 
 work in a city of a quarter of a million, but I've 
 been answering ads for weeks, and whenever I got 
 next to the employer, and he asked for references, 
 it was all off. I tried for the position of floor- 
 walker, clerk, bookkeeper, salesman on a commis- 
 sion basis, but nothing doing. I was offered what 
 seemed a good thing, but it turned out that they 
 wanted a spotter; they wanted me to ride on the 
 street-cars and spot the conductors to see if any 
 of them were knocking down the fares. But I 
 couldn't take a job like that. 
 
 " It's a long story, and here I am with a few 
 coins and an empty stomach. I know now why so 
 many poor fellows find comfort in whiskey.
 
 QUINN'S GOLDEN TEXT 15 
 
 Think of the tired, weak, miserable company that 
 line the park benches! When a thing has hap- 
 pened to you, you know what it's like." 
 
 The stranger was silent for a moment, then sud- 
 denly straightening himself, and gazing earnestly 
 into the face of his new-found friend, he con- 
 tinued, " Do you know why seventy-five per cent, 
 of the men who have done time go back? They 
 think the world's dead against them. They are 
 desperate because the odds are against them. Is it 
 any wonder there is murder in their hearts? I 
 don't care if it is their own fault. Most of them 
 are not bad ; they are weak. 
 
 " It's discouraging to think that we can't make 
 use of our common experiences and somehow get 
 together in team work for the good of all, and 
 especially for the good of those who are coming 
 after us. I'm up against it, I tell you," the man 
 concluded. " I don't care how far down the line I 
 must begin, if there is a chance to come back; but I 
 have tried, and as things stand now, I can't cash in 
 my prospects at two cents on the dollar. I have 
 no to-morrow." 
 
 It is a trait of human nature that when we find 
 out a man is a criminal, we are interested all of 
 us. We want to know how it feels to be a crim- 
 inal. When, however, we find in how many ways 
 he is just like ourselves, our interest suddenly 
 ceases and we quit the trail. 
 
 " Water seeks its level," Quinn was saying to
 
 16 VINDICATION OF EOBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 himself as he listened to the stranger. Then he 
 thought of his golden text, and it occurred to him 
 that this was precisely what the man before him 
 was doing, looking " unto the hills." No man 
 could talk like this without having had a world of 
 experience. And the man had evidently thought to 
 some purpose ; he had the marks of a leader. 
 
 " Couldn't you get anything to do in your line 
 while you were serving your time?" Quinn in- 
 quired. " Generally they give a man work in his 
 line if they have it, and he is qualified.'* 
 
 " There was nothing for me to do. I'm a civil 
 engineer. In my day, I was a shark at mathe- 
 matics. No, there was nothing in my line. But 
 that wasn't the worst of it. It was the spirit of 
 the place. To-day, in most people's thoughts, pun- 
 ishment is supposed to be remedial and disciplinary. 
 In the human hell in which I served my time, it 
 was terrifying. Thus, in addition to being cut 
 off from everything that exercises a saving in- 
 fluence in a man's life the love of wife, child, 
 home, work, play, hope, ambition the very worst 
 that was in us was aroused by the treatment we 
 received." 
 
 " Don't you know anybody who could help you 
 get back into business life?" Quinn refrained 
 from suggesting relatives again. 
 
 "Yes, I have acquaintances, as all men have, 
 and I also have a few friends. By friends I mean 
 those who know all about you and still believe in
 
 QUINN'S GOLDEN TEXT 17 
 
 you. But I have lost my friends, or rather I cov- 
 ered my trail when the trouble came so that they 
 have lost me. I want to spare them the sorrow 
 and humiliation, and until I am on my feet again, 
 I will not make my whereabouts known." Then 
 pausing thoughtfully as if weighing the conse- 
 quences of what he had said, the stranger con- 
 tinued, " I had one friend, a brother. I have tried 
 to find him, but he evidently has adopted my own 
 tactics, for I can't get a clue of him except an ab- 
 surd one that leads across continents and seas. 
 He was the most capable, all-around man I ever 
 knew. He was scholarly and practical, with the 
 happiest combination of cultural and vocational 
 training I have ever met. When I came West 
 years ago, he remained in the East. As a young 
 man, he met a serious disappointment. If I could 
 find him, he would understand; but he's some- 
 where, and I'm here," and the stranger waved his 
 hand as he concluded. "As for my little girl, 
 well she is not far off. I have traced her, but 
 I don't want her to find me. Down and out 
 as I am, how could I be any sort of father to 
 her?" 
 
 Ordinarily Quinn was fertile in suggestions, but 
 he found himself confronted with a situation that 
 baffled him. Here was an unusual man. This 
 was an extraordinary situation. " I'll think of a 
 lot of brilliant things to say to-morrow, and by 
 next week I'll know just what should have been
 
 18 VITOIOATIOSTOF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 done. That's the way with a one-cylinder mind 
 like mine," he mused. Then he suddenly recalled 
 the fact that the stranger was a civil engineer, and 
 the range of his interests widened. He knew that 
 work was being projected in the mountains for 
 impounding the storm water, and instantly he de- 
 cided on a line of action. 
 
 " I've had a jolt or two myself, in my time," he 
 said half to himself and half to the stranger, " but 
 I guess I've never really been up against it," and 
 carefully putting out the fire and throwing his pack 
 over his shoulder, he turned to the stranger and 
 said: 
 
 " How would you like to take a turn over the 
 mountains ? I'm going up the trail ; it's some hike, 
 but if you care to come along, I can introduce you 
 as a friend from the East." 
 
 The man hesitated a moment. Then he ad- 
 vanced, and extending his hand, said, " My name 
 is Robert Creighton. Bob will do." 
 
 " My friends call me Quinn," was the reply. 
 
 Then an odd light came into the stranger's 
 eyes. " Did you say your name was Quinn ? " he 
 inquired, with suppressed eagerness. 
 
 " Yes," responded the young physician, curi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Thank you. I sometimes need to have a 
 name repeated to get it by heart. And to tell 
 you no lies, there are sometimes other better rea- 
 sons which may wait, until you care to hear
 
 QtJINN'S GOLDEN TEXT 19 
 
 them," he said, laughing for the first time during 
 their conversation. 
 
 "Whenever you like," said Quinn, smiling. 
 But it was to be long before the matter was re- 
 ferred to again, Creighton apparently forgetting 
 it, and Quinn dismissing it from his thoughts as 
 of no consequence.
 
 HITTING THE TRAIU 
 
 FOR a long time they walked in silence, 
 single file, Quinn leading the way and 
 setting the pace. 
 
 Half the time it seemed to Creighton they were 
 crossing the stream, the other half doubling back, 
 stepping on boulders, around which the waters 
 tumbled in splendid confusion. 
 
 " How you coming? " Quinn exclaimed, spring- 
 ing from rock to rock. 
 
 " It makes me tingle from head to foot," said 
 Creighton, getting down on his knees and, push- 
 ing his face into the crystal stream, he drank 
 deeply. 
 
 " Beats all the juleps that were ever mixed," 
 said Quinn. " No brown paper taste next morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " You've got it doped out right," returned the 
 other. 
 
 " Where's the dog? " cried the young man, sud- 
 denly. " Queer how you get to like a dog, isn't 
 it? Here he comes! Hello, Scotty, old boy! 
 Carry the book. He's my chief helper, Mr. 
 Creighton." 
 
 20
 
 HITTING THE TEAIL 21 
 
 The trail now left the stream. It wound 
 around the mountain like a lasso. As the air 
 grew thinner, Creighton found it harder to keep 
 up with Ouinn, who was lengthening his stride and 
 going forward with a steady swing. 
 
 " Crooked path ? " said Quinn. "A ram's horn's 
 as straight as a sunbeam compared to this trail, but 
 that's the glory of it," and they stopped a mo- 
 ment to look down into the ravine, noting where 
 the trail doubled back on itself. 
 
 It pleased Quinn to note, as time went on, that 
 Creighton was an observer. He needed no look- 
 ing after. And the fellow could talk! There 
 was a singular interest, a quick response, an easy 
 brevity, and an almost startling directness in his 
 speech. He could talk but he could also keep 
 quiet. 
 
 " City people don't know much," Quinn used to 
 say. " It's the man who lives in the country that 
 holds his tongue and thinks! He often has only 
 his thoughts for company." 
 
 " This man is surely at home in the mountains," 
 Quinn mused, as Creighton paused to get a second 
 sight of a shrub. " It may be his first trip over 
 this trail, but it is not his first hike over the hills." 
 Scotty was near, barking eagerly, and Creighton 
 was talking to him. Creighton now peeled off a 
 piece of bark from a brown madrona tree and 
 spoke of its habits. He noted the rich foliage of 
 the bay trees and observed how some of them
 
 22 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CREIGHTON 
 
 sprang out of the ground, grew into the bodies of 
 other trees, and then doubled back into themselves 
 again. " Robbers of the forest," he said, " steal- 
 ing vitality from their neighbours." 
 
 " You'll do," said Quinn to himself, as, in an 
 elbow of the trail, he saw Creighton seize a hand- 
 ful of the bay leaves from an overhanging tree, 
 crush them and smell their fragrance. 
 
 After hours of climbing, they reached the high- 
 est point of the range. There, Quinn threw his 
 pack on the ground and, looking across the moun- 
 tains and down into the valley, he turned to 
 Creighton and asked, " Did you ever wrap your- 
 self in a blanket, watch the stars come out, and 
 sleep all night under the open sky? That's the 
 thing that puts blood into your veins. 
 
 " Did you ever see a sky like this ? " continued 
 Quinn, a good physician, but a better poet. " Look 
 at that storm driven by a pack of sunbeams ! See 
 that cloud winding itself around the brow of that 
 peak! Look at those shadows crouching in the 
 ravine ! Watch that eagle on the crag ! There he 
 goes, sailing down into the valley! Did you ever 
 see a lark come down across the morning sky side- 
 ways? Look! All the architects of all the ages 
 could never unriddle such an array of splendours. 
 It makes a city look like a bunch of hen coops." 
 Quinn suddenly came to earth, and he grinned 
 sheepishly. But the appreciation in Creighton's 
 eyes held him up to his high sincerity.
 
 HITTING THE TBAIL 23 
 
 " I tell you, man," he resumed, " this is the thing 
 that clears out a fellow's brain. It takes the 
 mountains to lift a man out of the prate of the low- 
 lands. And all this belongs to all of us any of 
 us, with the eyes to see ! " 
 
 Creighton looked at Quinn with curiosity. He 
 had met many men, but never one like this, and he 
 had no answer ready. After a moment, Quinn 
 continued, " I am not saying that a man ought to 
 be happy watching the grass grow, and milking 
 cows. A man can get into Heaven even if he 
 hasn't plowed corn with a mule to see if he can 
 keep his temper. Fine clothes and good food give 
 us pleasure and comfort, but what I am aiming at 
 is the poor foundations our modern life often 
 seems to rest on. A man makes a fortune out 
 of a plug of tobacco, a stick of chewing gum, or a 
 porous plaster, then he struts around as a lover of 
 art, a connoisseur of porcelains and tapestries. 
 He doesn't know anything about them; they are 
 junk on which he pays insurance, but he blows his 
 horn and the walls of Jericho fall. The horn is 
 lined with gold. 
 
 ' The last time I went down the trail, I met a 
 man who owns a private gallery. I tried to point 
 out the rich tobacco colour in the bark of the cedar 
 trees. I spoke of how it glows into gold at noon, 
 and deepens into a rich wine at night, but all it 
 made him think of was his pipe ! " Quinn's feel- 
 ing lifted his speech to eloquence. " I pointed out
 
 the balsam trees, silvering in the moon over the 
 squaw grass that grows in the open spaces between 
 the manzanita, but all to no purpose. He saw 
 nothing. All of this sky, stars, trees, hills 
 never quickened his pulse. That old dub owns a 
 gallery of masterpieces, but when God hung His 
 glories across the sky, he was as blind as a bat." 
 
 In the midst of this rhapsody, Scotty bounded 
 suddenly into view, and as they turned, they saw 
 a slender woman coming along the trail. 
 
 She was dressed in khaki, with mountain boots 
 and hat. Her cheeks were glowing and her eyes 
 were smiling with the inner vision that good men 
 love. 
 
 As Quinn saw her, he swung off his cap, and 
 sprang forward to grasp her hand. "I say, 
 Jean," he cried, "this makes the picture right. 
 This is ' Inspiration Point.' ' 
 
 After a moment's pause, only a moment, during 
 which Quinn looked first at one, then at the other, 
 he said: 
 
 " Miss Mundell, this is Mr. Creighton." 
 
 At the mention of his own name, Creighton, 
 who, stone-still, had been looking at her from her 
 first appearance, started, glanced around as if he 
 expected some other man to come forward, but 
 instantly recovering himself, lifted his cap and 
 pronounced her name with the clear enunciation 
 of educated speech. But in spite of his evident 
 breeding, he gazed long and piercingly into her
 
 HITTING THE TBATL 25 
 
 face; then, suppressing his interest, he bowed, and 
 resumed his cap. 
 
 "Are there any newcomers at the camp? " asked 
 Quinn. 
 
 " Oodles of them," replied Jean, " and every- 
 body is waiting for you. You're down to enter- 
 tain the children, and they have been making great 
 preparations. Rock Room has been transformed 
 into a Moorish palace. You promised an enter- 
 tainment before you went away. It's nominated 
 in the bond, and they are going to collect payment 
 in full," and Jean laughed heartily. 
 
 Creighton sensed the pleasurable quality of her 
 voice; he noted the refined, subdued, yet hearty 
 ring of her laughter; it was all so wholesome, so 
 genuine, so worth while! 
 
 The three now started down the trail that led to 
 the camp. 
 
 At the turn in the trail, Creighton again saw 
 Jean's face, and as he looked, something within 
 him answered to something without. In a vague 
 way he understood, so he explained it to himself, 
 perhaps it was the call of the hills, the call of the 
 view, the call of the sky, the call of life ; all of this 
 urged him to take his part in life again with this 
 kind of man, this sort of woman. The call 
 came and the answer. 
 
 " She knows," he said to himself ; " she's the 
 sort that knows whether a man is worth looking at 
 or not." Then a sense of despair smote him. He
 
 26 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 stared into the distance. He felt himself slipping. 
 A picture of other days swam into the field of his 
 consciousness. Sweat came out on his forehead. 
 His heart faltered. 
 
 Quinn and Jean were now talking, and Creigh- 
 ton heard something about " sailing," and " a mis- 
 sion to the Orient." But though he listened at- 
 tentively, he could make nothing of what they said. 
 
 At one time Jean trembled, Creighton thought, 
 as if something had frightened her. He saw the 
 blood creep into her temples; he saw her cheeks 
 surge with rich, youthful life, and her eyes fill with 
 light. He noted that there was a wordless under- 
 standing between the two. 
 
 Finally the three descended a slope of the trail, 
 and there, Creighton saw before him, beyond a 
 mountain stream, the cottages that made a camp; 
 and, crossing the bridge, they met Scotty, who had 
 gone before them, and now came to welcome them 
 as they arrived. 
 
 Quinn led Creighton to a tent cottage, and as 
 they passed through the door, he said, " There are 
 two cots here, as you see; you are welcome to 
 sleep in one of them. After a wash-up, you can 
 lie down and rest for an hour, if you wish. Sup- 
 per will not be served until six o'clock, and I want 
 you to be my guest." 
 
 " Thanks ! " said Creighton, as Quinn went out, 
 and he tried to say something else, but Quinn had 
 gone.
 
 HITTING THE TEAIL 27 
 
 Quinn found Jean sitting on the veranda of the 
 hotel, feeding the squirrels. 
 
 " Well ! " he said, as he found his chair. " This 
 place looks better all the time." 
 
 " Who is Mr. Creighton? " asked Jean, directly. 
 
 " Bob Creighton is his name. That's all I know. 
 I met him on the way up. Scotty says he's all 
 right." 
 
 " He doesn't look very well, does he ? " Jean 
 queried. 
 
 " He has just finished a term, he told me," 
 Quinn replied. " He's been rather closely con- 
 fined, I imagine needs air and the sun." 
 
 " Isn't it a pity that our colleges turn out so 
 many wrecks ? " cried Jean, innocently. 
 
 " Some are turned out and some graduate. It 
 all amounts to the same thing in the long run, I 
 guess." 
 
 Then ensued a pause. To even the casual ob- 
 server, the situation between the two young people 
 was plainly tense. 
 
 " When are you sailing? " Jean asked presently, 
 breaking the silence. 
 
 " Next week," Quinn replied. " I have my sail- 
 ing orders. It's all arranged. She's a funny old 
 boat, but she's better than a hospital! All sorts 
 of queer people aboard! Besides, I have that 
 mission with sealed orders. Romantic, isn't it ? " 
 And then as he saw her eyes were filling, he said, 
 more gravely, " Suppose we walk! "
 
 28 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 Jean nodded. 
 
 Together they went down the path that led to 
 the bridge where they could overlook the falls. 
 
 " I don't like the falls to-day," Jean remarked, 
 as they stood on the bridge. " They are in such 
 a hurry to get away to the sea; they seem to be 
 taking you away with them ! " 
 
 " I wouldn't go ! " Quinn replied. " If the job 
 wasn't put on me. And the experience is going to 
 help me. It's strange how the marvellous comes 
 into our lives ! A week ago, I knew nothing about 
 all this. But I'll turn the clock forward, and when 
 I come back we'll be married the day I land 
 here!" 
 
 And they stood in silence. Above them towered 
 the mountains, beneath them were the falls, and 
 as the sun went down behind the peaks, the peace 
 of Nature's twilight entered into their own hearts. 
 They knew and loved each other. Together they 
 would plan and endure.
 
 Ill 
 
 COMING BACK 
 
 ON the mountainside, in a sheltered cove 
 that overlooked the valley, stood a cabin. 
 To newcomers, it was pointed out as the 
 " Johnson Home." A picturesque line of bay 
 trees shaded the roadway that led up to the house 
 and filled the air with refreshing odours. 
 
 Here, for a number of years before his recent 
 death, Seth Johnson had lived in retirement with 
 his only daughter. His sister had taken care of 
 the house, and had been, at the same time, a mother 
 to the girl. Sam Stutesman had been for years 
 his trusted servant. Such was the household. 
 Seth and his daughter had been inseparable. She 
 had inherited from her father much of his temper 
 and fearlessness. Decided in her likes and dis- 
 likes, she was loyal to her friends, compassionate 
 to the unfortunate. She had been the pride of her 
 father, and devoted to him. She had thrown 
 about him a protecting love that made his ways 
 more comfortable. She knew, in a vague way, 
 that some cloud had passed over the sky of his 
 life. She knew also that he had worked against 
 the thrusts of a treacherous combination, and that 
 he had suffered mentally. Beyond this, he had not 
 
 29
 
 30 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIQHTON 
 
 chosen to take her into his confidence. But he 
 had never allowed himself any self-pity. He had 
 faced life bravely. " Time puts it all into the 
 rag-bag," he had said. " Experience is costly, but 
 it's worth it." 
 
 Johnson had been a man of initiative and 
 energy. He had been drawn West as a young 
 man by the promise of its resources and oppor- 
 tunities. He had tramped many a mile over the 
 mountains. It was a long story. His wife had 
 died before the better days had begun to dawn, and 
 he found himself alone with his child and a for- 
 tune. He had sent Beth away to a girls' school, 
 and subsequently to college. All her school ex- 
 perience had been shared with Jean Mundell ; they 
 were fast friends. Beth's father for some rea- 
 son or other a guardian to Jean had suggested 
 that Jean make her home with them, after college 
 was over for the girls. " You will be company 
 for each other," he had said. 
 
 Beth remembered the home in which she had 
 lived in the city when she was a child, but she al- 
 ways loved the cabin in the mountains. Each 
 summer they had gone a little earlier, remained a 
 little later, and when on a fine September after- 
 noon her father asked if she could make it her 
 home, Beth rejoiced. "We can go down to the 
 city as often as we wish," he had said, " and we 
 have the telephone and the mail to keep us in touch 
 with the world."
 
 COMING BACK 31 
 
 Now, Beth had known that her father, retired 
 though he was, was not idle. He often made long 
 trips, coming and going at unexpected intervals. 
 On certain days he always met the postman. 
 Sometimes a number of men called and went away, 
 having received orders. Quinn, she understood 
 vaguely, was concerned in all of this mystery. 
 Her father had said as much. 
 
 " I've put my affairs into the hands of a trust 
 company," he said one day. " I don't like de- 
 tails, and as I am Quinn's guardian, I have placed 
 his affairs with the same company. When I am 
 gone, they will tell you what to do." He paused 
 reflectively. "And they will have," he added, 
 " a commission for Quinn to perform. The na- 
 ture of it " 
 
 Beth listened thoughtfully. "Why do you 
 speak in this way, Daddy dear ? " she asked. 
 
 " It's my love for you," he replied, " and my 
 duty to somebody else. That's what has kept 
 me alive." 
 
 Then Sam called him, and the two men walked 
 down the path together, talking earnestly. It was 
 the last conversation Beth had with her father. 
 He died a few weeks later. What commission 
 for Quinn had been placed in the hands of the 
 trust company, her father had forgotten to tell 
 her. 
 
 As Jean and Quinn stood overlooking the falls, 
 Beth came along the trail. As she reached the
 
 32 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 bridge, they called to her and the young man with 
 her he was Duke Bunnell, Quinn noticed. 
 
 Standing on the bridge, they all watched the 
 water plunge from the rocky shelf until dinner 
 time, when they walked to the hotel, where they 
 found Creighton pacing back and forth on the 
 veranda. On entering the dining-room, now 
 crowded with guests, to Creighton's relief he was 
 placed alone at a table where he could see and 
 think. 
 
 Rock Room had been so named because in the 
 corner of the lobby there was a boulder. Around 
 this boulder the room had been built. Upon its 
 top a dozen or more children could be installed. 
 To the left of it was a fireplace, on whose andirons 
 logs glowed a welcome. In the opposite corner 
 was a table made out of a log, cut through and 
 polished. The walls were decorated with the skins 
 of animals. 
 
 Quinn believed in taking a childlike part in chil- 
 dren's pleasures. As he came into the room after 
 dinner, he was greeted with a cheer. Scotty, never 
 far from his master, settled himself on the bear- 
 skin in front of the fireplace, looked up into his 
 master's face as much as to say, " You're a won- 
 der," then turned his head to one side as if to 
 listen more attentively. 
 
 Quinn began with a rapid fire of questions. 
 " One of our boys," he said, " has sunburn. Why 
 is his skin full of fire while mine is not? What 
 is the difference between orange skin and an apple
 
 COMING BACK 33 
 
 skin, peach skin or a baseball covering? Why are 
 some skins tender and some tough? What hap- 
 pens when a skin is tanned? Do liquids have 
 skins? What holds a drop of water together? 
 Why is it round ? Have all liquids the same kind 
 of skins? Will fifty drops of alcohol give you the 
 same bulk in quantity that you get from fifty drops 
 of water ? Yes or no ; why ? " 
 
 By this time everybody was interested. 
 
 " I'm holding a fine sieve in my hand," con- 
 tinued Ouinn. " Over the wire in the sieve, I'm 
 going to rub the end of this candle. Now I will 
 fill the sieve with water. The water won't run 
 through. Why not? But when I pour alcohol 
 into the sieve, it goes through ! Why ? " 
 
 " It cuts its way through," said one of the boys. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " It's different." 
 
 "What is the difference?" 
 
 " It has a finer skin." 
 
 " Now, the skin of a drop of water will stretch. 
 To stretch it better, we will mix a little glycerine 
 in it. See how, when I blow into the water, each 
 drop stretches, enlarges until we have a fine, large 
 bubble. Now see how, when I shake it off from 
 the end of the blow-pipe, it comes down. I can 
 catch it on my hand, throw it up, have it rebound 
 from my sleeve, jump back again, and all this be- 
 cause it is elastic, almost like a rubber ball. 
 
 " In this bottle I have some ether. You don't 
 know now what that is, but never mind about that.
 
 34 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 I'm going to pour some of the ether on a piece of 
 this blotter, drop the blotter into a jar, blow the 
 bubble, hold it over the jar and saturate it with 
 the ether vapour. To do this, I must lower the 
 bubble into the jar because the vapour is too heavy 
 to come to the top. When you go into a cave," 
 Ouinn said, turning to the boys who were sitting 
 on a rock, " don't lie down unless the cave is well 
 ventilated. Poison vapours crawl along the floor, 
 and if you lie down and breathe them, they may 
 kill you. Don't forget that. What has happened 
 to our bubble? Just as the alcohol cut its way 
 through the paraffin in the sieve, so the vapour 
 from the ether has cut small holes into the skin 
 of the bubble and crawled inside. Now I will lift 
 the bubble out. Watch ! " 
 
 As Quinn held it nearer the candle, the bubble 
 ignited, and, with a tiny puff, exploded. 
 
 " A balloon on fire," shouted one of the boys. 
 
 Another and still another bubble was blown and 
 burned, while the children cheered with excite- 
 ment. 
 
 While all this was going on, Creighton sat un- 
 observed just inside and back of the door. 
 
 "What sort of human is this anyway?" he 
 mused to himself as he watched Quinn. " Gives 
 a stranger a lift, shares his bunk with him, is the 
 center of attraction at the dinner table, is at home 
 with the children, and now, in a perfectly easy and 
 natural manner, is welding all ages together around 
 a point of common interest."
 
 COMING BACK 35 
 
 At first Creighton had looked amused, then in- 
 terested, then absorbed. Before he was aware of 
 it, the muscles of his face had relaxed, there was 
 a tremor on his lip. He noted now how Jean, 
 Beth and Duke were working together to make the 
 evening successful, and he observed what a happy 
 company all these people were as they left the 
 room and sauntered out onto the porch. As he 
 went, one of the boys grasped his hand and ex- 
 claimed, " Wasn't that fun ? " Creighton trem- 
 bled. It had been ages since his hand had touched 
 the soft, warm fingers of a child ! 
 
 For a long time Creighton stood outside the door 
 of the tent cottage, going over the events of the 
 day. At first he was happy; then came a violent 
 revulsion. A whirlpool of grief seemed sucking 
 him in. This day of all days had been hardest 
 for Creighton to bear. It was the anniversary of 
 his wedding. The years had come and gone, and 
 with them all that life held in store of happiness 
 and hope. How terrible life is! In the distance 
 he heard voices, laughter, applause. From the big 
 house came the music of a waltz, and, through the 
 windows, he saw the young people dancing. The 
 wind stirred in the trees that swayed gravely as 
 they flung their shadows around him. Through 
 the leaves, he saw the young moon, close at hand ; 
 moths were beating in the tent light. Now all the 
 lights flashed twice, the warning signal for bed, 
 for in twenty minutes the dynamo would stop.
 
 36 VINDICATION OF EOBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 Suddenly the air was vibrant with the notes of 
 an old melody. Creighton listened: 
 
 " Mid pleasures and palaces, 
 Though we may roam, " 
 
 The melody fell upon his withered life like a re- 
 freshing shower: 
 
 " A charm from the skies 
 
 Seems to hallow us there 
 Which, seek through the world, 
 Is ne'er met with elsewhere." 
 
 He was awestruck with the beauty of it. As 
 wave after wave of the song pulsed through his be- 
 ing, it seemed to Creighton that his soul was being 
 cleaned of the prison taint that had clung to him 
 like the scent of death. 
 
 For the first time in many years, a tear ran over 
 his cheek. But he did not heed his tears. He 
 only knew, in a dim way, that he was coming back. 
 In his memory, the happy faces of the children 
 lately with him were glorified, and as the warm 
 drops wet his face, he knew relief, and peace like 
 a mantle settled on his spirit. 
 
 Long after the lights had gone out he walked 
 beneath the stars. At last he went inside. 
 
 For a moment, on his bed he lay enjoying the 
 comfort of it all; then his eyes closed in slumber, 
 and he fell asleep in a chamber whose windows 
 opened toward the dawn. Yes, Creighton had 
 " come back."
 
 IV 
 
 A THOROUGHBRED 
 
 WHEN Creighton came out of the dining- 
 room the next morning, some one ap- 
 proached him and, handing him his 
 card, said, " Good-morning, sir. My name is 
 Russell. I am chairman of the Board of Super- 
 visors." He went on to say that an unexpected 
 situation had arisen and he wondered if Creighton 
 would be willing to help him out. Quinn had 
 thought perhaps he might. An engineering proj- 
 ect was under way, and an expert was needed; 
 half a day would prove whether Creighton could 
 swing the job. He said much about rainfall, soil, 
 tree growth and the necessity of gathering data on 
 the same. 
 
 It was hard for Creighton to quiet the rising 
 tide of emotion that arose within him. For a 
 moment he seemed to be sailing away into uncon- 
 sciousness, but not knowing just what to say, he 
 managed to stammer out: 
 
 " I should think it would be a good thing to con- 
 sult, along with government reports, the pioneers 
 in the valley, and the prospectors in the mountains. 
 
 37
 
 38 VINDICATION OF BOBEBT CEEIGHTON 
 
 Through the years they have accumulated some 
 first-hand knowledge that would be exceedingly 
 valuable." 
 
 " Precisely," replied Russell. " Sam," he called, 
 looking to the other end of the veranda, " I want 
 you to meet Mr. Creighton," and turning and call- 
 ing again, " Duke, come here a minute, please," 
 and to Creighton he introduced Duke Bunnell, one 
 of the engineers. 
 
 " Mr. Creighton, gentlemen," said Russell, " is 
 the superintendent of your gang, and I want you 
 to give him the benefit of what you know about 
 the mountains. You are to drill through the sand 
 and gravel for bed-rock, down in the narrows of 
 the Arroyo." 
 
 All this had come about so quickly, so melodra- 
 matically, that it was fortunate for Creighton that 
 he had a little time to think things over going 
 down the trail, also that Sam volunteered some 
 general information concerning the undertaking. 
 
 When Creighton came into camp, he found the 
 tent houses for the men in place, kitchen and din- 
 ing service installed, and everything in readiness 
 to go forward with the drilling. 
 
 There were granite walls on both sides of the 
 bank at a place where the Arroyo narrowed clown 
 to three hundred feet. Here, a dam with sluices 
 to let out the overflow was to be put in, and above 
 it, a bridge to connect the foothills road. As he 
 turned and looked toward the mountains, Creigh-
 
 A THOEOUGHBEED 39 
 
 ton saw before him the natural basin for a reser- 
 voir the place for a storage lake. He thrilled at 
 the thought of it, and said to himself as he joined 
 the men for the evening meal: " A great thing for 
 the country! And work for an army of men! " 
 
 " That man, Quinn, is a prince," said Sam, as 
 the men were eating in the tent dining-room. 
 " Clean as a hound's tooth, and what he doesn't 
 know about the mountains isn't in the books." 
 
 " Well, he ought to know it," replied one of 
 them. " Here's where he grew up. He had it 
 bumped into him and rubbed into him, and soaked 
 into him." 
 
 " You know these parts, Mr. Creighton ? " in- 
 quired a man sitting next to him. 
 
 Creighton felt a strange sensation. Not for a 
 long time had'he sat in a circle of men, treated as 
 an equal. He drank a glass of water, then clear- 
 ing his throat and ignoring the question that had 
 been directed at him, he said: 
 
 11 You called Quinn a thoroughbred. Why 
 may I ask? " 
 
 " Why ! Quinn's dad was chief ranger of this 
 whole section years ago, but he lost his money try- 
 ing to put a railroad through," said Sam, " and 
 when his folks died, Quinn had to shift for him- 
 self. He had plenty of chances to go over the 
 toboggan, all right. The skids were greased for 
 him, as they are for any man who is just natu- 
 rally popular like he is. But look at him ! He was
 
 40 VINDICATION OF EOBEKT CEEIGHTON 
 
 up and fussing early this morning about a pros- 
 pector up in his shack! Quinn went to see him 
 before breakfast, and he was saying, ' Poor scout 
 seems to be doing everything he can to drink him- 
 self to death, and it looks as if he was going to 
 have his own way about it. I don't know what we 
 can do to stop it. Seems a little late in the day for 
 him to wake up.' Quinn has more real fun doing 
 what he's doing than any man I know! Money? 
 He doesn't know its colour. He's as poor as any of 
 us, but if this project goes through, a ranch in the 
 valley that belongs to him can be irrigated. This 
 will put him on easy street where a thoroughbred 
 like him ought to be." 
 
 ' Creighton began to feel a little more at ease. 
 " The thing that strikes me about Quinn," he said, 
 " is the fact that he knows what he's talking 
 about!" 
 
 " Now you're talking," said Sam. " Did you 
 see how he entertained the kiddies, and all the time 
 he was telling the grown-ups a lot of things they 
 never knew before ? I heard him tell the boys one 
 night, ' It isn't what you see/ says he, ' going over 
 the trail, and it isn't what you hear ; it's what you 
 remember that makes you educated.' 
 
 " We had a parson up here not long ago," Sam 
 continued, " and he was telling Quinn about what 
 he believed, and why, and Quinn said to him, 
 ' There's enough faith in the world anyway, and I 
 guess it won't make much difference if a few of
 
 A THOROUGHBKED 41 
 
 us are a bit short on it. At present I'm going in 
 for plain human helpfulness. And I don't want 
 any promise of reward except the pleasure of do- 
 ing a good turn. Of course I've not lived very 
 long, and I may see things different some day.' ' 
 
 As Creighton listened, he found himself 
 strangely stirred. It was well for him that the 
 dusk of the evening concealed his features. With- 
 out further comment, he arose and sauntered over 
 to where a fire was burning on the banks of the 
 Arroyo. Around it, some of the men from camp 
 had gathered, and they had been joined by a dozen 
 blanket hoboes who had wandered in from all di- 
 rections. It was an odd aggregation. An air of 
 general shabbiness characterized most of them. 
 The men had never met before, but they seemed 
 to have come together in the spirit of an old time 
 reunion. Each man had his story, and soon they 
 were comparing notes and drawing conclusions. 
 
 It was plain, now, that not all of them were 
 common tramps. Indeed, the only inference a 
 casual listener could draw from what he might 
 hear was that while all the men were tramps, they 
 had, by no means, always been so! There are 
 men who, from choice, spend their days wander- 
 ing to and fro. A spirit of restlessness drives 
 them. Several of these men belonged to that class. 
 They had had every opportunity of self-improve- 
 ment, but by an unaccountable impulse they had 
 let themselves slip, had become wanderers. And
 
 42 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CREIGHTON 
 
 while they were well informed, clever, after a 
 fashion, their lives counted for naught they were 
 vagabonds. 
 
 " Sit in, pard," one of the men called out as 
 Creighton drew near. But as Creighton's eyes 
 swept around the circle in answer to the general 
 welcome that was extended to him, his gaze met 
 that of a man who answered to the name of Swen. 
 There was a look of surprised recognition, the ex- 
 change of a mental message that was all ; for the 
 attention of the company was once more centered 
 upon one man who, continuing the animated dis- 
 cussion, directed his remarks to the one opposite 
 him, saying: 
 
 "If your dad had given as much time to your 
 bringing-up as he did to his horses, you'd be quite 
 a man, eh ? " 
 
 " Don't blame it on the old man," interposed 
 another, filling his pipe, " and don't charge it up 
 to anybody else if you're a runt. This lay in' the 
 blame on somebody else was started back in Eden 
 when Adam remarked, ' The woman did it/ 
 Nothin' doin'! If Adam had been half a man, 
 he'd 'ave said, ' Do anything to me you want 
 to, but don't you touch Eve; she's my one best 
 girl!' 
 
 " Women are the limit, but any man that tries 
 to get under cover by puttin' the blame on a woman 
 for any trouble he has got hisself into, is just a 
 natural born low-down sneak. Some preacher
 
 A THOEOUGHBEED 43 
 
 ought to read the burial service over Adam; he's 
 been in the spotlight a whole lot longer than he's 
 any right to be." 
 
 Then springing to his feet, in renewed anima- 
 tion, the speaker continued, " I say, any of you 
 fellers ever know the millionaire hobo? He's a 
 regular feller, all right. I met him a few nights 
 ago and I asked him how he got his million. 
 
 " ' Do you really want to know? ' he asked. 
 
 " ' I sure do,' I said, ' I'm interested.' 
 
 " ' All right/ he said, ' there's just ten reasons 
 why I'm a millionaire. I always get up at six, 
 regularity; I cultivate a friendly spirit, courtesy; 
 I save ten cents on every dollar I get, economy; I 
 always brush my clothes and shine my shoes, in- 
 cludin' the heels, cleanliness; I eat wholesome 
 food, plain living; I never carry a grouch, cheer- 
 fulness; I always meet my obligations promptly, 
 credit good; I associate with people who've suc- 
 ceeded, good company ; I never do things in a slip- 
 shod way, thoroughness ; an' I inherited a million 
 two hundred thousand dollars from an uncle I 
 never saw ! ' 
 
 " I've got nine-tenths of the qualifications," one 
 man exclaimed. " All I need is a rich uncle. I'm 
 always out of luck." 
 
 " Here ! Here's a horseshoe ! " called a hobo, 
 as he threw an object across the circle. 
 
 Another one came from the opposite side. 
 " Hold on," cried the recipient ; " don't throw any
 
 44 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 more. One horseshoe is good luck a wagon load 
 of 'em 's junk." 
 
 " I'd as lief have a wagon load of horseshoes as 
 an acre of this land," grunted the man who had 
 thrown the first one. 
 
 "That's where you're off," replied the other; 
 " it's as fine a piece of country as ever a man 
 th rowed his eyes over. If a man didn't know the 
 difference, he'd think, by gracious, it was all to 
 the bad. I'm just giving my opinion that any man 
 who wants to do it can make himself rich right 
 here in ten years. I remember down South, they 
 said land was worthless sandstone. It wasn't 
 sandstone at all. One day a man came along, took 
 off the top of the ground, dug down five or six 
 feet, found a regular bed of phosphate, and shov- 
 elled out the cash." 
 
 " Exactly," came the reply. " Luck dropping in 
 without even ringing the bell." 
 
 " Another sizz out of the siphon. Old man, 
 your gear is stripped and your valves are stuck ! " 
 This last remark was suggested by an automobile 
 coming up the grade along the mountain road. 
 
 " Engine trouble," said one of the men, rising. 
 " Guess I'd better go and see what I can do." 
 
 The man in the machine, on coming around a 
 curve in the road, saw the fire in the Arroyo, and 
 the men sitting around it. " Look at that bunch 
 of bums," he said to his wife. " They can tell you 
 how to solve all of the problems of the world. Bet
 
 A THOEOUGHBEED 45 
 
 you a new hat there's not a man among them but 
 has a most profound contempt for anything that 
 even suggests a fair day's work! If laziness puts 
 a man in rags, to quote our parson, those fellows 
 are going into the rag business just as fast as 
 time and laziness can carry them." 
 
 By that time his engine had stopped entirely. 
 The owner was a greenhorn driver, and, getting 
 out of his car, he proceeded to go over the machine, 
 trying to adjust the difficulty. 
 
 " Engine trouble ? " queried the hobo from the 
 camp, approaching. Then looking over the man's 
 shoulder, he continued, " Your carbureter is dry. 
 You haven't enough gas in your tank to supply 
 your engine. Turn on your emergency. Then 
 she'll work all right." 
 
 Taking his place in the car, the owner tossed 
 the stranger a quarter. 
 
 " He knew what to do, didn't he, Daddy? " said 
 the little girl who sat beside her father, as he 
 threw his clutch into second with a jam. "Are 
 they all just tramps? " 
 
 Returning to the circle around the fire, the 
 tramp remarked, in English, surprisingly good: 
 " Mr. Newlyrich taking his family across the coun- 
 try! He tossed me a two-bit piece. That's his 
 idea of the price of an idea that got him into the 
 city, when he might be spending the night in the 
 roadside. This is a land flowing with milk and 
 gasoline, but all the same it's a rotten deal that
 
 46 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CKEIGHTON 
 
 put me where I am. I worked for an old gink, 
 got up at four in the morning, milked thirty cows, 
 worked all day in the field, milked thirty cows at 
 night, did the chores, piled in at ten, out again at 
 four, seven days in the week, for thirty dollars a 
 month. 
 
 " One Sunday he drove to church and passed 
 me on the road. It was hot, but he never even 
 offered to give me a lift. Now, I've got as much 
 reverence as anybody for high and holy things, 
 but that's what I call a dirty turn. ' Two can play 
 at that game,' I says to myself, ' and here's where 
 I go down the line.' Curse me for a blanket hobo, 
 if you like, but I left that old rotter to milk his 
 own cows. None of that kind of pious stuff for 
 mine ! It isn't the work I mind, it's the condition. 
 Ain't that good enough gospel, Deacon ? " he cried, 
 addressing another vagabond. 
 
 " Why don't you change the conditions and 
 milk your own cows ? " came the retort. " Jacob 
 did. You never went to Sunday School and 
 memorized the proper names. and all; you don't 
 know who Jacob was. Jacob was the original 
 blanket hobo. Like some of the rest of us, he got 
 in bad and had to hot foot it out of town between 
 days. After the natives found he'd flown the coop, 
 they got together and gave him the once-over. ' I 
 always knew he was a bad egg,' chirped one old 
 Jezebel. * Turned out just as I expected,' piped 
 up Mrs. Ananias. ' Good riddance to bad rub-
 
 A THOROUGHBRED 47 
 
 bish/ said Delilah. But nary a one was ready to 
 say, ' Good-bye, old man, I'm sorry you're going. 
 Good luck to you ! ' 
 
 " That night he unrolled his blanket and slept 
 with his head on a rock. He dreamed there was a 
 ladder set on the earth, and it reached to heaven. 
 There were angels on it and one of them said, 
 ' This is a bad deal. You're in wrong, but you've 
 got it in you to make good. Why don't you do it ? 
 We're for you strong.' 
 
 " The next morning he woke with the birds, and 
 before the camp came to, he was down the road, 
 traveling to beat the cars. He got a job on his 
 uncle's cattle ranch, fell in love with his cousin, 
 put one over on his father-in-law, got to be the 
 biggest cattle king in his part of the country, and 
 when he went back to the old home to visit the 
 folks, he had a fortune, and I forget how many 
 kids." 
 
 " That's going some for the black sheep of the 
 family," somebody shouted. 
 
 " Oh, that isn't the best of it. When he got 
 back, the relatives that had fired him, and the 
 neighbours that had knocked him, worked over 
 time telling how ' he was the family pride ' and 
 how they ' always had predicted wonderful things 
 for Jacob.' Can you beat it ? " 
 
 " No, you can't beat it because it's true to life," 
 answered one of the men. " Success covers a mul- 
 titude of bad breaks, as the saying goes."
 
 48 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 The last speaker was a man beyond middle age. 
 He wore baggy trousers, a flannel shirt and a sack 
 coat. His hair protruded below the rim of an old 
 derby that came far down over his ears. He was 
 broad and squatty. His nose was huge and red. 
 He was full of wise maxims, good-natured im- 
 prudence and shrewdness; the wreck of what 
 might have been! 
 
 " There are just two kinds of people in the 
 world," he said, " highbrows and roughnecks, and 
 the difference between the two is a three days' 
 growth of whiskers. And there are two agencies 
 of civilization, razors and shower baths. Dirt is 
 a figure of speech. Jam on bread is food ; jam on 
 a boy's face is dirt. It's all a matter of location, 
 as the saying goes." 
 
 " By that classification you're a neutral," a man 
 broke in. 
 
 " Is that so? I'm a neutral, am I? " Then he 
 landed verbal blows on his critic. He based his 
 statements upon what he called his own experi- 
 ences. " Them's what I calls the facts in the case. 
 The world ain't no Christmas turkey waiting to 
 be carved, but a man ain't poor unless he has lost 
 his nerve. Where does the wonder and the mys- 
 tery and the adventure come in, as the saying goes, 
 if a man knows each day of his life just where 
 his next meal is coming from ? But when you are 
 on your uppers, not a cent in your jeans, and you 
 have got to meet the cold stare of people who
 
 49 
 
 watch you come up the path and are ready for 
 you, dogs and all, and you have nothing but your 
 wits to help you win your way, take it from me, it 
 takes brains to get away with it, as the saying 
 goes." 
 
 " We've been there," one of the men exclaimed. 
 
 Then without heeding the interruption, the 
 speaker went on to regale the company with the 
 story of his wanderings and experiences. He 
 seemed drunk with his own exuberance. There 
 was no occupation which he had not followed, no 
 section of the country he had not visited. 
 
 " You're full of hop, old boy," spoke up a voice 
 at last. " Your cogs don't mesh. Your circles 
 don't come true. You'd be a hundred and fifty 
 years old, not a day less, and that wouldn't be 
 time enough for a man to bring in the runs you've 
 marked up to your credit." 
 
 " Don't string yourself, my friend. This is a 
 camp-fire, the one democratic institution on earth. 
 Here the grouch gets his, and each man is as good 
 as any other man if he is, as the saying goes, and 
 no questions asked," and the speaker took off his 
 hat and made a bow to the company. " This is a 
 big world," he continued. " Some people should 
 always be personally conducted, as the saying 
 goes ; they ought never to take the road alone." 
 
 " Now you're playing it safe, old top," shouted 
 a man with a loud voice. 
 
 " I always play it safe. We are all kindred
 
 60 VINDICATION^OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 spirits, as the saying goe'sT*" We oelong to me same 
 church." 
 
 " And right here is where I take up the collec- 
 tion," said the " deacon." Then, as if a serious 
 thought had suddenly gripped him, he continued, 
 " Oh, I've passed the plate and ushered in my time, 
 and I'll say right here that those were among the 
 happiest days of my life. To usher people into 
 their pews and make each one of them feel that 
 they had received just the right amount of atten- 
 tion, then to hold the collection plate square in 
 front of some old miser, to stop right there until 
 you separate the old dub from his coin, and watch 
 the agony of the operation as it registers itself on 
 his face! Whoopee! Then to pass the fellow in 
 the next pew and to make him feel at home though 
 he can't pay that takes real generalship." 
 
 " Cut it out, Deacon," exclaimed a burly young 
 fellow. " What would happen to you if you went 
 back? That is the question. It's a cinch you'd 
 never get your hand on another collection 
 plate." 
 
 " I don't know what would happen if I went 
 back. I only know what did happen. We had a 
 swell choir in our church. Jonsie, a fine man with 
 a big voice, sang bass. He would take the low 
 notes so far down he had to reach up to touch 
 bottom. Will Kinney used to say how comfort- 
 able a feeling it was just to sit back and not have 
 to hold your breath to help over the hard places,
 
 A THOBOUGHBBED 61 
 
 dead sure that Jonsie would come up at the right 
 minute without being torpedoed off the key. 
 
 " And I never heard any one sing * The Holy 
 City ' the way the tenor sang it. He just took us 
 up to the gate and held us there, for when that 
 man filled his lungs for a long note, he took in air 
 enough to float a balloon. He was the director of 
 the choir, and it was better than a movie to see 
 him stand before the chorus when they were com- 
 ing up to a climax, shake his fists and shout, * Now, 
 say something ! Say something ! ' 
 
 " There were a lot of fine people in that choir, 
 and I remember the bunch because I can't forget 
 the little girl in it. She was a true pal. If I'd 
 stayed by her and taken her tip, I wouldn't be 
 here ; but I kicked against what I called ' cramped 
 surroundings.' I wanted a bigger sphere. My 
 vanity ran away with me. Knock the church peo- 
 ple all you want to; you're calling in the devil as 
 doctor when you do. They're a whole lot better 
 than I am. I'm not going to carry my bluff any 
 further. I've quit making fun of what I know is 
 good. I've hit the toboggan good and hard since 
 then. I wish I was back. Some day I'm going." 
 
 " You're all right, Deacon, just perfectly all 
 right, as the saying goes," said the stocky man. 
 
 "What's this anyway a camp-meeting?" 
 asked an officious young chap, as he arose to stir 
 the fire. 
 
 "That's right, kick, you nut," the stubby man
 
 52 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 replied. "That's all some people can do. Noth- 
 ing wrenches a man like kicking at nothing. I 
 suppose you do it to keep in trim. And don't stir 
 the fire that way." 
 
 " Stir it yourself then," the man retorted. 
 
 " I'm not a yell leader, old sport, but I have 
 heard say when a man knows his business, he 
 don't go around explaining to people that he does. 
 It's what a man thinks he knows that he brags 
 about, as the saying goes. When a guy needs a 
 word with ten syllables to describe his profes- 
 sion, put it down he's a corn doctor. It's the fel- 
 low that puts on the most airs that knows the 
 least. Here, let your uncle build the fire for you, 
 little man ; you're tired out trying to rest." 
 
 Thus, far into the night the men talked, smoked 
 and argued. Creighton offered them work, but 
 this was declined unanimously and with thanks. 
 
 " Not for mine, old top," said an indolent fel- 
 low as he rolled himself in his blanket. " Deal me 
 the mountains for a regular home-meeting." 
 
 When, late in the night, Creighton returned to 
 the camp, he was accompanied by Swen, whom he 
 had recognized and who had recognized him when 
 they were in the group earlier in the evening.
 
 V 
 
 THE NORMAN 
 
 " A VESSEL in every way well found," 
 
 yL-k read the Inspector's Certificate that 
 *- -^ hung in the salon entrance of the Nor- 
 man. But this was only a part of the truth. The 
 Norman had been condemned as unseaworthy, had 
 been overhauled, painted up, and brought out un- 
 der a different name. 
 
 Commanded by Captain Knight, she was sail- 
 ing on her way home around the cape. She was 
 now in the Mediterranean, and Quinn was expect- 
 ing to make connections soon with transportation 
 that would bring him to the main objective of his 
 journey. 
 
 Most of the passengers were prospectors return- 
 ing from the South African gold fields. Some of 
 them were real miners, but for the most part they 
 were a rough gang, coarse of speech and irrever- 
 ent. 
 
 The ship's list showed a various lot of passen- 
 gers; Greeks, Jews and Americans among them, 
 and the occupations were as varied as the nations. 
 
 The journey was now half over. Between 
 whiles, the miners beguiled themselves reviewing 
 their experiences. Several of them had " struck it 
 rich," but most of them were failures. They 
 
 53
 
 64 VINDICATION OF EOBEBT CEEIGHTON 
 
 would lean over the taffrail, watch the flying fish 
 and dolphins, and look for passing ships. 
 
 One albatross had followed them for days, ap- 
 parently sleeping on the wind and unaffected by 
 the storm. 
 
 On occasion, schools of porpoise arose in shoals 
 almost covering the sea. 
 
 A small company of miners had gathered near 
 the center of the skylight above the sailors' bunk- 
 room, discussing a fight that had taken place over 
 a card game. 
 
 Quinn had just finished dressing the wounds of 
 the man who had beaten his assailant. 
 
 In a cage over the entrance to the sailors' hatch- 
 way, a parrot was bobbing up and down and sing- 
 ing, " Trum-de-dum, te-dum-de-dum," then call- 
 ing, " Kitty, Kitty, Kitty " ; then in deeper tones 
 it would exclaim, " Come shake hands with your 
 daddy." 
 
 An Irish woman of vigorous mind had left the 
 piano and, joining the company around the parrot, 
 said, " Not a felly aboard wid th' ear of a bat for 
 music ! " when two of the stewards appeared, 
 carrying one of the passengers who was slowly re- 
 covering from a serious illness. Quinn had or- 
 dered him on deck. The stewards placed him 
 gently in a steamer chair and tucked a blanket 
 cozily around him. 
 
 " You poor lad," said the woman, squaring her- 
 self in front of the boy, " how bad you look, and
 
 THE NOEMAN 55 
 
 you haven't a soul on board the ship for a friend, 
 they tell me. You look ahful bad, you do. I 
 never saw but one funeral at sea, and I felt so bad 
 that if inny body had patted the back in me, it 
 would 'ave made me cry. It was a sad sight! 
 They took him, put him on a plank, cased him in 
 canvas, and after the service, they slid him over 
 the side into the sea wid a plunge. I can hear it 
 yet, and see the water bubblin' as it closed up the 
 
 openin'. He was young, too " she was about 
 
 to add when Quinn interposed: 
 
 " Well, son, you'll be feeling better now. We 
 are going to make a sailor of you. There is a sail 
 just ahead coming our way. We'll pass each other 
 in an hour. Watch her and see if you can tell me 
 what liner she is from the colours on the stack." 
 
 The nuns, in a corner by themselves, were read- 
 ing. 
 
 Leaning on the railing at the stern of the vessel, 
 his back turned toward the changing scenes on 
 deck, Quinn presently was apparently indifferent 
 to everything that was going on about him. Pos- 
 sibly his mysterious mission, mysterious to him- 
 self as yet, was the subject of his meditations. All 
 that he knew was that the trust company had 
 given him a letter to one Roberts, to be found on 
 the Isle of Patmos. His cap was drawn far down 
 over his eyes. He did not notice the approach of 
 a woman, a ship-acquaintance of his, nor was he 
 aware that she was standing at his side watching
 
 56 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 the waves that were beginning to be covered here 
 and there with caps. The wind had been playing 
 with the streamers and swelling the sails, and now 
 blew a gale. The sun was sending its last flashes 
 of light along the evening sky, and tipping the 
 storm clouds that were gathering in the distance 
 with an underslope of gold and purple. 
 
 " And is this really your last trip ? " asked the 
 woman, a missionary. " I think you said as much 
 the other day that it would be, unless you fail 
 this time in some mission you spoke of. I should 
 think it would be difficult for a man like you to 
 say good-bye to the sea. It is so elemental, so 
 universal ! " 
 
 " Very true," Quinn replied. " There are just 
 three places a man finds himself in the desert, 
 on a mountain, and under the stars at mid ocean; 
 it is hard to choose between the three, so I take 
 them all, by turns. What I can't understand is, 
 why you are planning to go back to live amid the 
 surroundings you were describing the other day. 
 I hope you will change your mind." 
 
 The expression in her face answered Ouinn's 
 question. She saw that he had little faith in mis- 
 sionary labours. His religious faith was a plant 
 of slow growth. 
 
 " Oh, we shall go back. Our only regret is that 
 you will not be the ship's physician on the return 
 trip. But with you, or without you, we shall go 
 back."
 
 THE NOKMAN 57 
 
 " But you ran for your lives ! " replied Quinn. 
 " Those blacks are brutes, and they ought to be 
 left to perish off the face of the earth." 
 
 " They may seem little better than brutes," re- 
 plied the woman. " And we were exposed to dan- 
 gers, and we used unheard-of methods to gain 
 their confidence, but we must not leave them to 
 themselves. They are children in understand- 
 ing. They are, for the most part, superstitious 
 and brutal, but they have a faith in the super- 
 natural; and this, in itself, shows that they are 
 not altogether brutes, incapable of knowing 
 God. 
 
 " We begin with the children," she continued. 
 " We organize the school, the hospital. We 
 preach, teach, and heal the sick, and try, by show- 
 ing them a Christian home, what constitutes Chris- 
 tian living. The one thing the world needs is good 
 men and women, faithful husbands, devoted wives, 
 happy children, generous masters, obedient serv- 
 ants, prophets, apostles, heroes. How is this con- 
 dition to be brought about? Are you going to 
 leave a people to themselves and say, in effect 
 we are all animals placed in this cage of the world, 
 we are slowly evolving, some are strong, some are 
 weak, but in the struggle the weak must perish? 
 The tears and groans of the perishing will make 
 good soil in which to cultivate a nobler species, 
 and in the course of the ages, the world will be 
 peopled with a tribe of superior men."
 
 58 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 At the mention of schools, Quinn assumed a 
 different attitude. He thought of the evening in 
 Rock Room, and the happy children there. He 
 listened attentively as the woman set forth the 
 needs and opportunities of work among the chil- 
 dren. They, at least, were worthy. Here was 
 good material to work with. " Why not build a 
 children's hospital ? " he found himself musing. 
 Then suddenly he said : 
 
 " There is so much troubled thinking these days 
 that mental repose seems, for the most part, the 
 property of the ignorant and the unthinking. 
 Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " No, nor do I think the spring of two thou- 
 sand years of Christian heroism is a myth. Cults 
 and philosophies do well enough on paper, but 
 where is the nation they have healed? " 
 
 " Few people study the deeper questions of re- 
 ligion. Christian philosophy sleeps for them in 
 the book. They withdraw all nourishment from 
 that part of their being that discriminates and 
 elaborates the spiritual, although they know well 
 enough that the constant disuse of an organ des- 
 troys it, and while they are capable enough in 
 many ways, they are themselves a glaring example 
 of the mistake and mischief of imperfect educa- 
 tion." 
 
 " And so you do not fear for your faith ? " 
 Quinn asked: 
 
 " No, I am not afraid. As well try to wrestle
 
 THE NOEMAN 69 
 
 with the lightning! I am not afraid that the 
 lightning will be destroyed, but what of the hand 
 that tries to clutch it?" 
 
 This last remark was suggested by peculiar 
 lights that were playing in the sky. So engrossed 
 had they been, that before they knew it, the Nor- 
 man was heading for a storm. As they turned, 
 they saw that the heavens were filled with con- 
 fusion. Clouds were approaching in troops, com- 
 panies and reserves. They plunged headlong 
 through the gathering darkness. They collided 
 in mid-air. They staggered across the waters. 
 
 " We're gettin' it in the teeth," said one of the 
 sailors. 
 
 " Aye, without comment," said another, as he 
 pulled his hat down on his head. 
 
 Two of them had gone out on the boom to lash 
 the canvas, and as a sea struck the Norman, she 
 plunged ahead, sending canvas and sailors through 
 the waters. The boom headed under the water, 
 and when the Norman righted herself, a sailor 
 was gone. Angered by the tragedy, an old mate 
 rolled back his sleeves and took the place of the 
 missing man. 
 
 " Easy, mates," he said to the sailors, " hold 
 hard!" 
 
 "Can you hold her?" the Captain asked the 
 man at the wheel. 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir ! " came the reply. 
 
 Spar and rigging swung through the gloom like
 
 prison bars. From the yards, the torn canvas 
 hung and streamed. Over the sea through a flood, 
 the Norman plunged in her effort to ride above the 
 waters that overwhelmed her. The storm smote 
 her sides. It pounded her through the gloom. It 
 burst over her in the triumph of utter defiance. 
 
 There are times when a sailor needs all of his 
 strength. At such times the real man stands re- 
 vealed. The two hundred passengers were di- 
 vided on the one hand, into a group of manly 
 men and courageous women; and on the other, a 
 small company a few cowards. 
 
 Some of the men were praying. They bar- 
 gained with Heaven, promising service in return 
 for deliverance. 
 
 " Shut your face ! Can't you cut out the hol- 
 ler ? " cried a sailor. " What you been doin' 
 you're so afraid to die? God Almighty won't 
 plug up a ship for the likes of you. Here, get busy 
 with those belts ! " 
 
 The Captain had ordered the usual rockets to be 
 fired, signals of distress, but he knew how little 
 they availed. " The weather's too thick," he said, 
 as the rockets went whizzing through the sky, 
 leaving nothing but darkness behind them. 
 
 By this time the Norman had sprung a leak, 
 her seams were opening, and she was filling. The 
 sea was gaining on the pumps. The sailors were 
 swinging out the life-boats and getting the rafts 
 ready for disembarking, going about their work
 
 THE NOEMAN 61 
 
 in a matter-of-fact manner, nerved to meet their 
 fate, if meet it they must, in a way worthy of 
 men. 
 
 The Captain assured the passengers that all 
 would be safely landed. 
 
 No sooner had arrangements been made than 
 one of the miners, already casually mentioned, 
 crowded to the front. 
 
 Quinn had been stationed at the point where 
 the boat was being lowered. As the miner plunged 
 forward, pushing the women aside, Quinn was at 
 him and, despising the use of a weapon upon the 
 creature, seized him by the throat, threw him 
 down and dragged him to one side of the deck. 
 
 " Shove off," shouted the Captain, as one after 
 another of the life-boats were filled, and faded out 
 of sight in the darkness. 
 
 Now the ship was listing and the remaining 
 sailors with her. " No boat can live in a sea like 
 this," one of them remarked, as a wave knocked 
 him over and washed him about. Presently the 
 engines silenced. A fog sponged out the lights. 
 When the last life-boat drew away from the side 
 of the Norman, only Quinn and the Captain re- 
 mained. 
 
 One of the wonders of life is the mind of a 
 man in hours of danger. Emotion overwhelms! 
 Panic and helplessness ensue! If the fears that 
 clamour for recognition are held back by intelli- 
 gence, even though they cry for a hearing, intelli-
 
 62 VINDICATION OF EOBEBT CEEIGHTON 
 
 gence controls. It would seem that the function 
 of the brain is not only to let us remember 
 one can't help doing that; but to let us forget. 
 And Quinn " forgot." He never once thought of 
 himself. But now that the life-boats were filled, 
 he thought of Jean; he hoped she would sorrow 
 without suffering. 
 
 He remembered the day when something seemed 
 to say to him, " She's the one ! " and he remem- 
 bered how he had loved her then. He thought of 
 the many times he had seen her at work making 
 trifles for their home. She would play and sing, 
 and then she would pick up her work again, and 
 stitch in a world of love with that precious 
 needle. Yes, they were happy days all too few 
 lived, as they were, in anticipation of what was 
 to be. All this had flashed through Quinn's mind. 
 He was aware of no other thought. Then sud- 
 denly he felt himself lifted from his feet, and he 
 plunged, he and the Captain and the Norman, into 
 the depths of the sea. Death was there. In a lit- 
 tle while, floating planks, pieces of the bridge and 
 the wheel house, along with a few life-preservers, 
 were all that remained of the Norman.
 
 VI 
 A MILLION-DOLLAR PROJECT 
 
 WORK in the construction camps was 
 now going forward with good results. 
 Roads had been built; supplies and 
 stores of every kind were on hand; tent-houses, 
 with comfortable bunks for the men, had been se- 
 cured ; a large dining-room and a first class motion 
 picture outfit kept the men contented and increased 
 their interest in the work. 
 
 When the reports of the research work were 
 presented, the Board of Supervisors were at once 
 impressed with the fact that Creighton was big 
 enough to deal with this problem, and they had 
 engaged him as superintendent of the entire proj- 
 ect. 
 
 ' There are five things," said Creighton, " we 
 must keep in mind: 
 
 ' The water for the cities in the valley must be 
 assured ; industrial development must be made pos- 
 sible by generating electricity; we must conserve 
 and impound the storm water in reservoirs, run it 
 along lateral ditches, and irrigate the valley; we 
 must control the flood waters to prevent annual 
 
 63
 
 64 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 damage; and last, we must divert the silt that is 
 now washing down and filling up the harbour." 
 
 This was the substance of Creighton's report. 
 He had investigated every foot of ground along 
 the trail, and had consulted pioneers and prospect- 
 ors, comparing their experiences with the results 
 of scientific investigations and professional skill. 
 
 " How about those check dams far up in the 
 mountains ? " asked some one, pointing to the blue- 
 prints. 
 
 " Those/' said Creighton, " are to be put in as 
 indicated to hold back the rain, and so help to 
 spread the water over wide areas. It will thus 
 seep through and reinforce the growth of shrub- 
 bery and trees. This is essential to the success of 
 our project. As the water seeps into the crevices, 
 it will lay the foundation for extensive reforesta- 
 tion. We must make these mountains a vast 
 sponge to absorb as much of the rainfall as they 
 can. If we do this, they will pay huge dividends 
 in water and verdure." 
 
 " You were speaking a moment ago," said one 
 of the supervisors, " of diverting some of the 
 water along the foothills by means of lateral 
 ditches." 
 
 " Yes," replied Creighton, " this can easily be 
 done, and should be undertaken at once. We must 
 have three camps: one to work on the big dam 
 that will make possible the reservoir; another to 
 work on the check dams, and drill the tunnel
 
 A MILLION-DOLLAB PEOJEOT 65 
 
 ! 
 
 through which the water must flow in order to 
 generate the electricity; and the third camp 
 should construct the lateral ditches and line their 
 banks with trees. 
 
 " The banks of the ditches and the river must 
 have a second reinforcement in the shape of a 
 double embankment. Higher up, and further 
 back, trees must be planted. This second check 
 must be held by double rows of locust and willow 
 trees, and still further back by another row of live 
 oak, and between these rows of trees, a macadam- 
 ized highway must be built. This river will give 
 us a safe outlet for the storm water, and the high- 
 way will be a splendid road from the mountains 
 to the sea. 
 
 " That constitutes your problem, gentlemen. It 
 will cost a million dollars. But if you put it 
 through, you have a Paradise: if we can get the 
 cooperation of the men, we can keep the snakes 
 out. I've been all over the globe, and I tell you 
 there is nothing like this combination of mountain 
 and valley anywhere on the planet." 
 
 Meanwhile, Beth and her Aunt Miriam were 
 having a heart talk. Beth sat on the grass, Aunt 
 Miriam in the hammock. 
 
 Aunt Miriam had noted that things were not 
 going smoothly, and as Beth poured out her heart, 
 she listened attentively. Beth always went to her 
 aunt with important questions, when she was up 
 against hard things, and she always found in the
 
 66 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 motherly broad-bosomed woman a fine relief. 
 Aunt Miriam would listen, cry with her gently, 
 wipe away the tears from Beth's eyes, and send 
 her out along the right path. For Aunt Miriam 
 was known far and wide as the kind of woman 
 who would willingly squander her strength on a 
 friend in adversity. She was an extravagant 
 spendthrift of emotional sympathy, a fine bad 
 weather friend. Often she helped women in their 
 trouble, and on occasion, she had been known to 
 take a man by the ear and straighten him out. 
 
 With the years, Aunt Miriam had grown fat, 
 but she had pretty hands and dainty wrists, and 
 there was always a curious, laughing flicker in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " You don't need preaching to, Beth," Aunt 
 Miriam said. " What you need, my dear, is peace 
 of mind, and that can't be got the way you're go- 
 ing after it. Remember the little church out on 
 the edge of the desert windows broken, door 
 gone, sand piled in drifts right up where the altar 
 stood ? People's hearts get like that if they aren't 
 careful ; empty drifted up with dust and grit, the 
 fire of love smothered. Then they go off on all 
 sorts of excursions trying to get satisfaction out 
 of substitutes. Of course they get bitter, rebel- 
 lious, disappointed, wrecked." 
 
 After an impressive pause, Aunt Miriam con- 
 tinued, " As I look back through the years, it 
 seems to me as if I'd lived three lives. When my
 
 A MILLION-DOLLAR PEOJECT 67 
 
 father died, I was about your age," and she looked 
 at Beth. " When my father died, I was a spoiled 
 child, the popular daughter of a successful man, in 
 a little town place. Then I had to start to make 
 money to keep myself going, so I taught. I had 
 a lover we became engaged. He was forced to 
 go away for over a year, and we grew apart. 
 Then it came to me that he was a stranger to me 
 that I didn't know him. I did not marry him; I 
 thought I loved another man. Finally I came to 
 keep house for your father, and here I am." 
 
 After another pause, Aunt Miriam said, " When 
 Duke went away the other evening, I heard him 
 say, * She's a funny girl.' I've been thinking that 
 over, Beth, and I've just about made up my mind 
 that Duke is right about you." 
 
 Then, as if she were living over again at second 
 hand her days of courtship in Beth's experience, 
 Aunt Miriam said, " Beth, you mustn't think that 
 because Duke is good mannered, that he's weak. 
 I remember one day hearing you laugh at one of 
 his courtesies. You've lived in the wilderness, 
 Beth, till you've forgotten how a well-brought up 
 man ought to behave. Goodness! When you're 
 as old as I am, things that look big to you now 
 will look mighty small. Duke isn't the sort of man 
 you can hold a whip hand over. You've been so 
 much in the company of the men that you've 
 learned their ways, and you unconsciously copy 
 them. Sometimes you walk with the swing of an
 
 68 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 old time rider, accustomed to the saddle. When 
 you were a little girl, that was cute; but, Beth, 
 you're not a child now, and you don't want to try 
 to be too chummy with them. A man don't like 
 that in a woman. Your dad used to call all of the 
 men by their first names, and you learned to do it 
 when you were young, but you mustn't do it now. 
 Nice men won't know what to think of it. I re- 
 member the day you ran away you were four 
 and we found you sitting on the bar in the saloon, 
 eating a sandwich, and laughing and talking with 
 the men. Now you make a vain show when a 
 fine young fellow like Duke comes along. Don't 
 do it. I'd be sorry to see you lose Duke you're 
 trifling with him and you're in danger of doing 
 it." 
 
 As Aunt Miriam talked, a fragrance came float- 
 ing on the air. The day was warm, and as the 
 water played on the garden, its freshness released 
 the perfume from the flowers and filled the air 
 with delight. 
 
 " Beth," Aunt Miriam said, as she arose, " I'd 
 hate awfully to see you make the mistake I made. 
 Keep the dew of your womanhood on your soul. 
 It will make you strong, keep you sweet, and help 
 you to sing through the days. There isn't any 
 substitute for it." 
 
 And presently, as Duke came up the trail, he 
 found Beth, slightly humbled in spirit from her 
 aunt's talk, waiting at the cabin for him.
 
 A MILLION-DOLLAE PEOJECT 69 
 
 Together, they watched the sunset, and as the 
 conversation reverted to the camp and the work, 
 Duke told her of the directors' meeting. 
 
 Beth had little to say. 
 
 Presently, Duke lifted an abalone shell from the 
 porch rail and called her attention to its beauty. 
 Together, they traced the milk and fire that 
 blended like changing glory in the heart of an opal. 
 " Look at the lavender, the blue, the sea- foam 
 green, the amethyst, purple, gold, jasper, ruby! 
 It's all there, isn't it ? " he cried. " But it was 
 hidden until Sam told you to boil it in ashes, and 
 polishing it with emery and oil ! " 
 
 " Like me ! " Beth answered. " Aunt Miriam 
 says I need polishing." 
 
 Tears filled her eyes. Finally she said, " I've 
 just had a talk with Aunt Miriam. I wish Dad 
 were here ! I remember how he used to say, ' My 
 little girl, the way you do things doesn't count es- 
 pecially ; just think about the right thing until you 
 want to do it, and then if you do it long enough, 
 you get your hand in and just do it without think- 
 ing natural-like.' And he used to say, * You 
 don't have to go through life keeping from doing 
 a lot of things you want to do, to sit in a future 
 heaven. You don't have to eat dry bread here to 
 get it buttered there. What we have to do/ he 
 said, ' is a fairly decent day's work, say our 
 prayers, be happy now, and merge our life and in- 
 fluence in the great on-flowing stream of human
 
 70 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 progress.' I wish I could have a good talk with 
 Dad!" 
 
 As Beth concluded, they walked to the end of 
 the pergola and, taking a chair beside her, Duke 
 looked straight into her eyes and said, " Beth, I 
 want to talk to you, and you must hear me 
 through. Creighton has been appointed superin- 
 tendent of the engineering project. He told me 
 that he might be called away any time for a while, 
 and that he wanted me to be ready to keep things 
 going during his absence. I'm all right as far as 
 my job is concerned. But there's another side to 
 my life. We men write, invent, make fortunes, 
 not for ourselves, but for some one we love." 
 
 Beth trembled a little. She avoided Duke's 
 eyes. But Duke took her hand in his and she lis- 
 tened as he asked her the question which, more 
 than any other question that ever was asked, thrills 
 the heart of a woman. He knew he could take 
 care of her, and he felt sure they would be happy, 
 and, unfolding a piece of paper and giving Beth a 
 pencil, he said: 
 
 " Let's sketch the plans of our new home." 
 
 " Mercy ! You're not thinking of building ! " 
 Beth exclaimed. 
 
 " I am, that is to say we are. You're to make 
 the plans, superintend the job, and I'll do the 
 work." 
 
 " Castles in the air ! " 
 
 " I've built them, and I'm going to keep on, but 
 now I'm going to build on the ground."
 
 A MILLION-DOLLAB PKOJECT 71 
 
 " Not a big house, I hope," said Beth. " I'll not 
 promise to manage it, if it is! I love this," lift- 
 ing her eyes and looking around the cabin. 
 " When Dad gave up the big house in the city, I 
 was the happiest girl you ever saw. I used to tell 
 him that all he was doing anyway was just run- 
 ning a big nigger boarding-house. That sort of 
 life is downright slavery. I'm strong for the 
 cabin." Then noting a puzzled look in Duke's 
 face, she went on, " I know what you're saying to 
 yourself. You're saying, ' What will people 
 think?' Who cares what they think! If this is 
 what we want, why can't we have it ? " 
 
 It was just here that Creighton saw them. 
 After his report, Creighton had gone for a walk 
 in the open. At first he had experienced a sense 
 of satisfaction, then he said to himself as he 
 walked along, " It's all in the day's work," and he 
 was tempted to bitterness : " Was anything worth 
 while!" 
 
 Thus he walked in the gloaming, and looking up 
 at the afterglow of pink that was streaming across 
 the hills, he noted the smoky haze in the deep re- 
 cesses, and before he knew it, he saw before him 
 Duke and Beth, all unconscious that any human 
 eyes were upon them. 
 
 " Dreaming and making plans ! " Creighton 
 said to himself; " they go together! " He remem- 
 bered how he, too, had dreamed his dream of hap- 
 piness, and how he had planned. For the moment 
 he was quieted. Then he felt the indignity of the
 
 72 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 flings that passers-by had thrown upon him once 
 when, weary and despairing, he met the vulgar 
 criticism that falls upon a man in shoddy clothes. 
 He saw Beth and Duke talking intimately, he felt 
 the need of comradeship, for even though he had 
 been given full charge of the work, he felt a re- 
 bound of suspicion, of inquiry. The directors had 
 asked no questions, but he felt that they wanted 
 to know more. He would not lie he could not 
 tell!- 
 
 Then suddenly he felt as if he wanted to tell 
 the world. He could survive the furnace! Is it 
 true that it makes no difference if only you cover 
 up your tracks if only you are clever? He used 
 to think that he never knew the hour when he did 
 not know what to do, when he wanted help. But 
 that was in the days when he had won the love of 
 his wife. From the moment he saw her, he loved 
 her unceasingly. Her love made him strong. She 
 always gave the deciding vote. When a question 
 came up, she would sit back as if saying " What 
 do you think ! " But he would give the answer 
 as he thought she would have him ! Now he was 
 at the spiritual breaking point with worry and de- 
 ciding. He felt he could carry the burden if he 
 had her to look to. Self-sufficient as he had al- 
 ways felt himself with her, now that she was gone, 
 the time had come when he, too, must turn to 
 some one else for help; some one to stand beside 
 him and lift his hands until the battle ended. 
 
 How blessed such help had been from her ! He
 
 A MILUON-DOLLAE PEOJECT 73 
 
 remembered how, on opening the door of his 
 home, he always asked "Where are you, Anna?" 
 and she would always call back " Yes, Bob! " 
 
 But here he was alone slinking through life, 
 his name tarnished. He, who never once had 
 rolled his spirit in the mire, was going blackened 
 through the days! Even the knowledge of his 
 own uprightness could not take away the heart- 
 break he felt. 
 
 When again he lifted his eyes, Beth and Duke 
 had disappeared into the house. It was supper 
 time. 
 
 There stood the cabin before the mountains, 
 framed in the sunset, the trees and flowers blend- 
 ing their beauty and fragrance in the changing 
 colour of the day's closing hour. He heard the 
 faint murmur of the falls. The music sent a 
 thrilling wave through his blood. In the fir trees 
 overhead, he heard the twitter and rustle of birds 
 settling for the night. All about him were the 
 glory and wonder of life, and he felt a desire to 
 call back his appreciation of the grandeur with 
 which he found himself surrounded. The land- 
 scape became vocal silence became speech ! Why 
 must there be so many discordant notes! Nature 
 is eloquent, wonderful, beneficent! Why can't we 
 make human nature equally blessed ? 
 
 " I guess it is, in spots," Creighton concluded, 
 as he looked once more toward the cabin.
 
 VII 
 WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF 
 
 THE Norman went down on a night when 
 the very elements seemed to be at war. 
 The wind howled over the water, gather- 
 ing fury as it came. In the darkness, the life- 
 boats were separated. It was long past midnight 
 when a flicker in the distance caught the keen eye 
 of a sailor. He knew its meaning. The word 
 from him was enough to cheer brave fellows at the 
 oars whose hearts were breaking under the strain. 
 Again the light came, and the sailor, awaiting its 
 reappearance, answered it with a flashlight a 
 rocket of distress another, and still another. 
 Back came the signal to lay to and hold out, and 
 in a few hours all the occupants of the different 
 boats were landed on the deck of an Oriental 
 steamer, rescued from the very verge of death 
 all but the men on one raft, commanded by the 
 purser. The Captain and the Doctor, everybody 
 said, had gone down with the ship, refusing to 
 abandon her. 
 
 It had seemed to Ouinn, drawn down by the 
 suction of the sinking ship, that he would never 
 come up again. He never understood how it was 
 
 74
 
 WHAT DEEAMS AEE MADE OF 76 
 
 he found himself floating among the wreckage, 
 swimming with an oar. In the darkness, he heard 
 voices, but there was no answer to his call. As he 
 floated, he collided with a plank, and clung to it, 
 relinquishing the oar. After an eternity of wait- 
 ing, a gray streak heralded the dawn. As the 
 light grew clearer, he could make out, at no great 
 distance, the outline of a raft with several men 
 upon it; it was tossed by the waves that now re- 
 vealed and again hid it from sight. Quinn was 
 a strong swimmer and he pushed his way through 
 the waters until he reached the raft, pulled him- 
 self out of the sea, and as one raised from the 
 dead, crawled over to where the purser and his 
 men were huddled to keep warm. 
 
 With daylight came the rain. The deluge 
 seemed endless. The torrent poured its flood upon 
 them. This, however, was a blessing, for the rain 
 was warm and the sweet water which the men 
 caught in their hands and upon their upturned 
 faces allayed their thirst. All day they drifted, 
 hoping against hope that a passing ship would 
 sight them, but darkness came, and with it a bit- 
 ing wind. It was terrifying this clinging to life, 
 hanging to the raft as it staggered under the stars, 
 shuddering through the waters down the dark blue 
 hills of sea. The wind, chill and bitter, changed 
 the spray into sleet and hail that chilled the men to 
 the bone. Some of them muttered strange words 
 in their sleep, praying and cursing in turn. One
 
 76 VnroiCATICXN^OFjEOBEBT CEEIGHTON 
 
 of the sailors, in delirium, issued orders to make 
 any landsman pale. 
 
 " Keep your nerve, young man," one of the sail- 
 ors said to Quinn. " Panic is your enemy. Keep 
 your nerve. The raft won't go. Stick to her. 
 Here's my coat ! I don't need it," and he slipped 
 into the water fainting. The great waves swept 
 him away. Out of the depths, the hands of death 
 seemed visible, waiting for the rest of them to pull 
 them in. 
 
 The agony of the older men made Quinn forget 
 himself. He was battling, not only for his own 
 life but for these fellows. Strong sailors they 
 were, who, whatever their faults, were not cow- 
 ards, nor were they selfish. Even the sea seemed 
 to Quinn to sigh in pity over them, as the raft 
 was hurled down the water when a gulf opened, 
 and they came up, all but drowned. Indeed, some 
 of the men were missing, and after three days, 
 Quinn found himself with only a solitary compan- 
 ion, who was lying as if dead. 
 
 As a boy, Quinn had been taught to pray. There 
 on the raft, as it rolled and twisted, he thought of 
 the cursing fellows who had cowered at the first 
 threat of adversity. Those who had bragged then 
 prayed on their faces, and crying for mercy. 
 The sailors had been no saints, but they had 
 straightened up and met the danger of the hour 
 like men. Quinn recalled a sermon he had heard 
 at college when the preacher had said that " even
 
 WHAT DREAMS AEE MADE OF 77 
 
 when the prodigal was down, deserted by the men 
 who had spent his money, he still went on, trying 
 to fill himself with the husks that the swine ate, 
 and it was only when the husks had failed that he 
 went home penitent! It was all he could do," the 
 preacher declared. " No credit to him ! " What 
 right has a man who is little better than a devil, 
 whose mouth is black with lies, whose speech is 
 blasphemy what right has such a man to pray to 
 the God whom he has defied in all his ways ! To 
 pray because his life is threatened and he wants to 
 save his skin ! 
 
 " I haven't been praying much lately," Quinn 
 said to himself, with a grim smile, while the Nor- 
 man was going down; but again as he lay on the 
 raft, he thought calmly, even gladly of God's 
 mercy. 
 
 During the third night and the following day, 
 Quinn was in a stupor. In a conscious moment, 
 he lifted himself and looked across the waters, 
 now smooth, and up into the sky. He thought he 
 detected a sail that lifted itself above the blue 
 stretch of the sea and stood out against the sky. 
 Yes, there it was, a ship coming up over the hori- 
 zon, heading in the direction of the raft. Quinn 
 watched, longed, hoped. At last he made out that 
 it was a sailing brig. The wind was in the right 
 quarter, and if she kept her course, she would soon 
 be within hailing distance. With superhuman 
 strength, Quinn tore up a plank from the raft,
 
 78 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 fastened his shirt to the plank, held it between his 
 knees and waited. 
 
 The brig had now reached the point where she 
 would be nearest him. Presently her course would 
 take her past him, out of sight, beyond the 
 power of help. Would she see him? Life was 
 slipping. His hands were icy; his brain aflame; 
 he felt himself dying. But there! A flag goes 
 up, it dips! Again! And again! A third time 
 and down again! He had been sighted! That 
 was all that Quinn knew until later when he, 
 opened his eyes in a bunk of the brig, and heard 
 " Dutch," who was walking about the deck, telling 
 all hands " how it had happened." 
 
 The brig was on her way to carry supplies to an 
 out-of-the-way island off the beaten highway of 
 the sea. There is a superstition among sailors 
 that any man picked np only to die on board will 
 bring evil on those who rescued him. Quinn was 
 very sick. The sailors decided that he was dying. 
 When the brig dropped anchor off the island, they 
 took Quinn ashore. 
 
 Once on shore, Quinn was led by his sailor guide 
 along the base of the island, up a narrow, ragged 
 trail and around a high ledge of rocks. On round- 
 ing a hill, they came upon a monastery hidden in 
 an elbow of the mountain. Crossing a draw- 
 bridge, they paused before a wooden door that was 
 hung on heavy hinges. " Have I, after all," 
 thought Quinn, " reached my destination? "
 
 79 
 
 The sailor knocked. They heard footsteps 
 within, and a moment later, the door was opened 
 cautiously and a number of monks peered out at 
 them. 
 
 " Was it a newcomer, one who, like themselves, 
 had abandoned the world and now sought the se- 
 clusion of the monastery? " 
 
 " He needs help," explained the sailor, pointing 
 to Quinn. " He is sick." 
 
 Exhausted in mind and body, Quinn waited, 
 while the monks looked at each other and at him. 
 The sailor again explained the stranger's plight. 
 After a moment, one of the monks turned to 
 Quinn and asked him to come inside, and he led 
 the way across the room into a narrow cloister. 
 Quinn felt an odd shock of revolt as he weathered 
 the scrutiny of the monks. The way led through 
 a door at the end of a long hall, into a small room. 
 
 " Here," the monk said in a kindly tone, and in 
 Ouinn's own language, " you will find a change 
 of garments, also water for your bath ; " and 
 as he left the room, he added, " I will bring 
 you some food in a little while; that will revive 
 you." 
 
 With a feeling of gratefulness, Quinn sank upon 
 a bench. This, with an iron bed and a candle 
 stand, made up the furnishings of the room. As 
 Quinn sat in his quandary, he noted the crucifix on 
 the wall, and the flagstones of the floor. "If this 
 should be the place ! " he reflected.
 
 80 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 The monk soon returned and, placing the food 
 on the stand, said, " There, my son, food and sleep 
 will do you good." 
 
 Now Quinn made note that the monk was old, 
 but the natural grace of his bodily strength had 
 not failed him. The cowl above his gown par- 
 tially hid his face from view. Around his waist, 
 a knotted rope served as a girdle, the ends of 
 which hung down his side. A wooden rosary 
 hung about his neck. His feet were encased in 
 sandals, his head tonsured, his strong face shaven 
 clean. As Quinn observed him and noted the 
 long, straight nose and the stubborn chin, some- 
 thing floated on the edge of his consciousness. 
 For the moment he thought he had known the man 
 before him, then the notion faded and he fancied 
 himself in the presence of a Roman Emperor. 
 Quinn wiped the perspiration from his forehead. 
 He felt faint. "Where have I seen this man?" 
 he said to himself. " He is kind anyway," he con- 
 cluded, as the monk withdrew. 
 
 Having eaten, Quinn decided to sleep, but tired 
 and worn as he was, found no repose. Like a sol- 
 dier in battle, he had forgotten himself during the 
 strife, but now that the siege was at an end, and 
 he was safe, dread overpowered him. The shift- 
 ing scenes of his recent experience came and went 
 across his mind. As he lay on his cot in the dark- 
 ness, he thought of the Norman, the raft, the brig, 
 the monastery, the monks, the room, of Jean, of
 
 WHAT DBEAMS AEE MADE'OF 81 
 
 the bewildering past, of his mysterious mission, of 
 the shadowy future. " Rescued from a grave in 
 the sea to be buried alive ! " he mused. From the 
 distance came the sound of the ocean on the rocks. 
 He listened to the wind. At one time he could 
 have shrieked to break the spell, but he found no 
 words to say, nor whom to call. At last, no 
 longer able to endure his desperation, weak as he 
 was, he sprang from the bed, dressed, and left the 
 room. He groped his way along the hallway and 
 down the corridor, heavy with gloom. He pushed 
 through a door that swung on groaning hinges. 
 He ascended a flight of steps that led to a parapet, 
 and as he saw the stars, heard a bell. It sounded 
 like doom, and he fancied he would have dropped, 
 but for a monk who appeared beside him and sup- 
 ported him. " I heard you leave your room," the 
 monk said, in a quiet voice. " To-morrow, after 
 you have rested, you will be better able to plan. 
 Now you must sleep," and the monk led him back 
 to the room. " You are among friends be at 
 peace." 
 
 And Quinn slept. As he slept, he dreamed that 
 some one stood beside him. Some one was calling 
 his name ; it was pleasant to hear. The one beside 
 him was strong and ready to help. 
 
 Twice during the morning, the monk opened the 
 door; each time he closed it with a smile and an 
 approving nod. 
 
 It was long past noon when Quinn wakened.
 
 82 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 He lifted himself on his elbow and looked out 
 through the little window. There were the radi- 
 ant splendours of a day whose light gave all things 
 beauty. Then his head dropped back upon the 
 pillow. For a long time he lay silent. At last he 
 said, " It was her look, her voice, her spirit ! Oh, 
 Jean ! " he cried, as he lifted up his head. " I 
 wonder what dreams are made of ! "
 
 VIII 
 THE WEALTH OF THE HILLS 
 
 EARLY in the fall Creighton found it neces- 
 sary to cross the mountains and make a 
 trip to the Northern range to do some 
 first-hand exploring that would help him, if pos- 
 sible, to determine the gravity flow of the water. 
 Besides this, he wanted to pick up a certain clue 
 the clue of the man Fleck who had sent him to 
 the pen. Duke accompanied him, sketching their 
 findings and jotting down data for record and use. 
 He thought Duke also might be of service in trail- 
 ing Fleck. 
 
 " The trip won't be a hard one," said Duke, as 
 they were making their plans. " I am sure Beth 
 and Jean would enjoy it. I am wondering if we 
 can't arrange to have them go with us." 
 
 " If pleasure interferes with your business, give 
 up your business," Creighton said with a smile. 
 
 " Not that, Mr. Creighton," Duke replied, " but 
 Sam has charge of the men and he knows just 
 what to do to make Beth and Jean comfortable, 
 and I thought they might as well enjoy the trip." 
 
 At the mention of Sam's name, Creighton's face 
 lighted. "All right ! " he said. " Tell Sam to ar- 
 
 83
 
 84 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 range to care for them, and tell him to have every- 
 thing ready for an early start." 
 
 Thus they had gone together, up into the King's 
 River Country, walking and riding in turns, mak- 
 ing observations by day, and by night coming to 
 camp. There they would find the tents pitched, 
 and the food ready to be served. It was a happy 
 time for Beth and Jean, and as for Creighton, he 
 found out what he wanted to know. 
 
 One morning as the party came into the shadows 
 of the Calaveras forest, they saw Sam, who had 
 gone before, leaning over the stump of one of the 
 large trees. He was counting the rings of each 
 year's growth, and trying to figure out its age. 
 
 " How old is it, Sam? " Beth asked, taking her 
 place beside him. 
 
 "Two thousand years, this one, by the rings! 
 That one is three thousand, and that one, over 
 there, four. It's three times the size of the one 
 here, and that one over there is at least " 
 
 " Stop ! " Beth cried. " I can't get you ! " 
 
 " Figure it this way, so far as we can," said 
 Creighton. " Man has been on this planet ten 
 thousand years. That covers everything since his- 
 tory. These trees have stood here, lording it over 
 this valley, with their heads to the stars long 
 enough to let almost all human history pass by." 
 
 Pausing, they looked up to the top of the giant 
 tree. Sam called their attention to its height, say- 
 ing, " Look up, now back away, and watch it climb
 
 THE WEALTH OF THE HILLS 85 
 
 into the sky ! " For a long time they stood in 
 silence. Presently a ray of light fell through the 
 foliage, and Sam broke the silence by pointing to 
 the oaks near by, and saying, " These grew," then 
 raising his eyes to the redwoods, he said, " but 
 Almighty God made these." The three men re- 
 moved their caps and stood in silence. 
 
 Along the way, Sam had gathered a bouquet of 
 squaw grass, and as he gave the silver flowers to 
 Beth and Jean, he told them how they blossom 
 only once in seven years. 
 
 " You are fond of flowers, are you not, Sam? " 
 Jean asked, as she thanked him for the bouquet. 
 
 "I like them," he replied, "but not on a woman's 
 hat, nor woven in a carpet." 
 
 " But, Sam, think how fond your Indian women 
 are of decorating themselves." 
 
 " The Indian woman," Sam replied, " 'braids her 
 hair, and decorates herself with beads as blue as 
 the sky, or as dark as her eyes, or as green as the 
 leaves of the trees, then she throws a scarf over 
 her head that is as bright and cheerful as the glow 
 of the orange; and she is supposed to be dressed 
 like a barbarian. But look at some of your Amer- 
 ican women. They have a fruit ranch on their 
 hats there are plums, cherries, grapes, pickles, 
 wild hay, pumpkin and squash vines; or they col- 
 lect a bunch of feathers from a chicken, along with 
 the wing of an owl, and the tail of a crow, and 
 wear it, and that is supposed to be beautiful. It
 
 86 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 may be beautiful, I don't know about that, but I 
 prefer the Indian beads," Sam concluded, as all 
 joined in hearty laughter. 
 
 " How bright and fresh the charcoal is ! " said 
 Jean. " There must have been a recent fire here." 
 
 " No," Sam replied, " charcoal never loses its 
 lustre. Such fire was kindled by the Indians years 
 and years ago. It used to be when they wanted 
 game, they went back into the canyon, set fire to 
 the woods, and when the mountain bears and bob- 
 cats were driven out by the fire, they would 
 slaughter them." 
 
 They now came to a circle of great trees. 
 
 " These are of the curly grain variety," said 
 Sam. " You can see the curl in the bark," and 
 they noted the graceful waves. " That curl goes 
 right through into the grain of the wood. It is 
 the most beautiful wood in the world! The cen- 
 tral tree," he continued, " has been cut out, and 
 around the rim from the parent root these dozen 
 trees have grown, each one of them a giant." 
 
 Later, when they came around the shoulder of 
 the mountains that afforded a view across the in- 
 tervening valley, the half-breed pointed out the 
 trail up the mountainside. " These peaks used to 
 belong to my people," he said, " and echoed to the 
 footsteps of the Indian pony long before the grind 
 of the pony relay stage." 
 
 Far below, they noted a mountain stream gleam- 
 ing through the greenery like a silver ribbon, and
 
 THE WEALTH OF THE HILLS 87 
 
 dancing around the rocks as it journeyed to the 
 sea. Deer came timidly out of the underbrush for 
 a drink, and Sam explained that one of them was 
 on the alert to guard the others and warn them of 
 lurking danger. 
 
 Above the mountain stream, over a shelf of 
 rocks that was hidden beneath foliage, a waterfall 
 plunged into view, and as the breath of the canyon 
 smote it, and the sunbeams drove across its un- 
 folding billows of creamy white, it spilled its glory 
 through the spaces, and fell on the rocks below in 
 a cadence of melody that faded away in a shoreless 
 sea of song. 
 
 As they came over the crest of the mountain, 
 slowly down to the opposite side, they saw a ridge 
 a mile in length. At the top it was only a few 
 feet wide. It was without vegetation 6f any kind. 
 Through the center of it they saw an open seam 
 in the rocks, and out of it issued a roar that 
 sounded like the muffled whistle of a steamboat. 
 
 ; ' This," said Creighton, " is the newest portion 
 of the earth's globe. The crust here is only half- 
 baked. The fires cooled off before it was thor- 
 oughly cooked." 
 
 Meanwhile, Sam had gathered half a dozen 
 sticks ; on the end of each, he tied an egg wrapped 
 in a bit of linen. Giving each of the party a stick 
 with the egg on the end of it, he said, " Come 
 along now; every man his own. chef. Boil your 
 eggs to suit yourself,"
 
 88 VINDICATION OP EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 Climbing to the edge of the fissure, they swung 
 the eggs down into the opening, and so great was 
 the heat of the steam that issued from the open- 
 ing that the eggs were hard-boiled in a very short 
 time. 
 
 " The steam that comes out of that fissure," 
 said Creighton, " is charged with the silica from 
 the acid rock that mothers minerals. This is the 
 only place on the earth's surface where a mineral 
 vein is in the process of formation. Here gold, 
 silver, antimony, cinnabar and quicksilver crystals 
 are being precipitated. When the heat and the 
 pressure reach a certain point, the conditions are 
 right for mineralization, and the elements pass 
 from one form to another, just as when you make 
 maple sugar by boiling the sap. Big coarse quartz 
 carries only a small percentage of mineral. The 
 fine, small crystals are rich in ore. They repre- 
 sent the long periods of mineralization, the refine- 
 ment of mineral life. The big trees are wonder- 
 ful, being alive, but for age they are in the kinder- 
 garten compared with what is going on here. It 
 takes nature a long time to turn out her finished 
 products." 
 
 While the men were preparing the lunch, Duke 
 was gathering the data that would help them in 
 locating possible hidden streams of water that 
 might be tapped by tunnelling. 
 
 " I think we are on the right clue/* said Creigh- 
 lon, looking at the slope of the mountains, then at
 
 THE WEALTH OF THE HILLS 89 
 
 Duke's drawings. "An engineer is just a pair of 
 scales to weigh the facts; get close to the condi- 
 tions and find out what is below the surface. It's 
 a fascinating game, isn't it?" 
 
 " I call it a gamble with the cards stacked 
 against you," Duke replied. 
 
 In a detour that led into a plateau, Sam took the 
 party to the cabin of a pioneer whom Creighton 
 wanted, with unaccountable anxiety, to see, and 
 who was known far and wide as an authority on 
 bees and wild flowers. As the old man pointed 
 out the various hives into which the bees were 
 bringing their rich stores, he talked about them. 
 
 As they stood listening, Sam gathered a handful 
 of yellow butter balls and some purple heather, 
 and pulling up the roots of some lizard tail, he 
 said, " The Indians make tea out of this. It's 
 good for rheumatism. Don't smile," he said, ad- 
 dressing Beth ; " you used to take sassafras tea 
 and sulphur and molasses." 
 
 " Oh, that wasn't so bad, but, oh, the goose 
 grease I had to take for my croup ! " Beth re- 
 marked with a laugh. 
 
 " Yes, I remember that too ; you used to bark 
 like a sea-lion. But there's nothing better for a 
 cold than goose grease. I've saved more than one 
 man's life by pouring hot goose grease down his 
 throat, and rubbing it into his chest." 
 
 "We're behind the schedule," said Sam, paus- 
 ing in his reminiscences to glance at the sun. " It
 
 90 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 will be dark long before we reach camp. Come 
 along now, in a good, steady swing. 
 
 " These woods once thrilled with the songs of 
 all kinds of birds," said Sam, as, leaving Creighton 
 in conversation with the pioneer, they walked be- 
 neath a cluster of trees, " but now they are almost 
 silent," and he looked wistfully around as if in 
 search of a lost friend. " Not only are the birds 
 gone, murdered to meet the demands of fashion, 
 but the insects upon which they fed have increased, 
 and as a consequence, many a fine orchard has 
 been destroyed. Civilization is great stuff, isn't 
 it? 
 
 " Look at that red-breasted sap-sucker," he 
 added. " There ! He has gone around to the 
 other side of the tree. Hear his tattoo! I tell 
 you, he can make the chips fly when he bores out 
 the cavity in which to build his nest." 
 
 " He's not civilized/' Beth exclaimed. " He 
 makes his wife do all the hard drilling. There he 
 is now! See, he is drinking the sweet sap that 
 runs out of the bark." 
 
 " Oh, he is civilized all right," replied Sam. 
 " He's a white man, he drinks so much of the sap 
 it makes him dizzy ; he goes on a regular spree." 
 
 " There aren't many of them left," said Sam, in 
 answer to a question from Creighton, who had 
 just overtaken them, about the Indians. " Only 
 about three hundred thousand. Most people think 
 of Indiana a* wild savages, with painted skins*
 
 THE WEALTH OF THE HILLS 91 
 
 dancing a snake dance around a fire in the dark 
 of the moon. In museums you can see samples 
 of Indian pottery and baskets and blankets, and 
 once in a great while you will hear a trace of In- 
 dian music. That is what civilization has done 
 for my people. Their land has been confiscated; 
 they have been driven out of their homes and thus 
 impoverished, depleted in health and hope they 
 are left to shift for themselves. But the Indian is 
 a good loser," Sam concluded. "Anyway, you 
 can't live on a grouch." 
 
 " Isn't Sam wonderful ? " Jean said to Beth, as 
 they walked along. 
 
 " Sam is wonderful !" Beth replied. " He knows 
 the wealth of the hills, the language of the brooks, 
 the story of the seasons and the message of the 
 mountains ! He is a good rider, a perfect shot and 
 a fine canoeist; he is the most graceful walker I 
 ever saw. Just look at his stride, and watch the 
 rhythm of his swing! He is the champion long 
 distance runner of the country. And resourceful 
 I have never once seen him at his wit's end ! 
 
 " I remember when I was a little girl, I asked 
 him one time about the four seasons of the year, 
 and he said, ' To-morrow I will show you.' Early 
 in the morning he took me up into the mountains 
 where we snowballed. ' That is winter,' he said. 
 Then we came down into the rose garden, and he 
 cut a big bouquet of roses. ' This is spring,' he 
 remarked, as he gave me the flower?, Then w
 
 92 VINDICATION OP EOBEET CKEIGHTOH 
 
 went down to the beach and toon: a plunge in the 
 ocean. ' Now you are in the middle of summer/ 
 he said. Then we came home and went out into 
 the vineyard and gathered clusters of grapes. 
 ' This is autumn/ he exclaimed. ' Winter, spring, 
 summer, autumn all of the seasons of the year 
 in one day. Now you know what they mean/ he 
 said. And I did ! 
 
 " I remember one morning I was watching the 
 sun come up, and I was trying to guess where it 
 would appear. It was the first time we had been 
 in that part of the range. Sam came along and 
 asked me what I was doing, and when I told him, 
 he said, * Look for it there ! ' and he pointed out 
 the exact spot where the sun came over the moun- 
 tain. And as we watched the sun climb up over 
 the peak and flood the world with morning light, 
 and then looked down below on the dark domes 
 that lifted their heads out of a sea of mist, I re- 
 member seeing Sam take off his hat and stand 
 there, silent and reverent. He is a great soul ! " 
 Beth concluded, impressively. 
 
 " Who is he? " Jean asked Beth. 
 
 "Who is anybody? Sam never speaks of the 
 past. That's his secret ! " 
 
 " Everybody has a secret, it seems to me," said 
 Jean. " Quinn has gone on a secret mission to 
 the Isle of Patmos. Whenever I come near Mr. 
 Creighton, he seems to me somehow to change, to 
 put on an extra effort to appear natural. Why?
 
 THE WEALTH OF THE HILLS 93 
 
 I can't imagine ! I only know that I am conscious 
 of it. 
 
 " Did you hear him talking to the old pros- 
 pector? Creighton asked him how long he had 
 been working the mine, and when he replied, * Oh, 
 off and on for twenty years/ Creighton turned 
 pale. And when the miner told him that there 
 had been a fierce fight over the claim, and that the 
 mine never brought any luck to the men who got 
 it because they had railroaded a man into the pen 
 to get him out of the way, I thought Creighton 
 was going to fall in his tracks! I tell you, there 
 is trouble in his life. My heart aches when I look 
 at him. He is fighting a battle. I sometimes 
 wonder how long he can keep it up."
 
 IX 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 
 
 THROUGH the nursing and care of the 
 monk who had admitted him to the mon- 
 astery, Quinn had recovered his strength 
 and was becoming restless. " At long intervals," 
 the monk told him, " a brig stops here ; apart from 
 this, there is no way of communicating with the 
 outside world." 
 
 With the monks of the monastery he had little 
 in common. They gave him food and a place to 
 sleep, cheerfully, but Quinn felt that most of them 
 would be glad to be rid of him. He spent many 
 days in the library where the shelves were stacked, 
 but although the books he -found were written in 
 various languages, Quinn was a linguist and able 
 to understand and enjoy. 
 
 Seated in the chapel, Quinn watched the altar 
 lights and listened to the chorus as the monks 
 chanted their responses. For the moment, peace 
 would creep into his soul. But when he sat in the 
 cloister with the pacing monks about him, rebellion 
 arose within him. 
 
 " They are fooling themselves with illusions," 
 94
 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 05 
 
 he said. " Because they have a few rare volumes 
 they think they have a library. It's a book 
 morgue! Four drops of the tincture of madness 
 taken daily does the work. Nothing spreads like 
 blue, and they think they enjoy their melancholy! 
 Habit habit habit! What crimes are commit- 
 ted in your name ! " he muttered, as he left the 
 monastery and walked to a ledge of rock that 
 overhung the sea. 
 
 During the first days of his stay on the island, 
 one brother had watched Quinn closely. A feel- 
 ing of interest had arisen between them. To him, 
 Quinn had already told details of his life; he had 
 told him, too, about the mission committed to his 
 hands. The letter entrusted to him had been lost. 
 He had given to the monk the name of the man to 
 whom the letter had been addressed. And this 
 had led to an intimate acquaintance. This monk, 
 it was, who had cared for him on the day of his 
 arrival, and when Quinn felt a hand resting on his 
 shoulder one day, he was not surprised, on look- 
 ing, to find his new friend at his side. 
 
 " I was thinking of you," the monk said, " and 
 of your experience," and his eyes glowed as he 
 continued. " It made me live over again my life 
 of other years. My youth, my early manhood 
 were not unlike your own. Then my hopes were 
 wrecked and sent me here." 
 
 And suddenly his eyes were wet. Then he 
 smiled.
 
 96 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 " People who cry cannot see," the monk said, as 
 he continued. " The best of life, the stories leave 
 untold; they tell about the blows, not how the 
 bruise was carried. Stories never tell you these 
 things, but life omits no part. Nevertheless, all 
 parts make up the real story of life, the story we 
 weep over or rejoice in, the story we treasure in 
 the heart." 
 
 " Won't you tell me your story ? " Quinn asked. 
 
 At this the monk seemed deeply moved, and 
 Quinn feared that his direct question had offended 
 his good friend, but after a moment, the monk 
 said: 
 
 " It is a long story, my son, and a long time ago. 
 About your age, I was finishing college. I was 
 poor, but poverty meant nothing to the woman I 
 loved and I had taught her to love me. I worked 
 and studied for her. She was my star of hope, 
 my inspiration, and when I finished with hon- 
 ours, my joy was multiplied because she shared it 
 with me. At last the time came when I had made 
 a home for her, but her family had planned other- 
 wise. Some one her father had chosen married 
 her. I had a brother who had gone West in 
 search of wealth. From the first he succeeded. 
 All his projects spelled success. Then he disap- 
 peared. I went to the coast to clear the mystery, 
 but found no trace of him. This mystery and the 
 implied disgrace was the excuse her father gave 
 me for refusing me my wife."
 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 97 
 
 Ouinn looked at the monk with piercing scru- 
 tiny, and was on the point of speaking when the 
 monk continued: 
 
 " I tried to be reconciled and I was, eventually. 
 But I found no happiness. Thus, the years sped 
 on. I cannot tell you all that came into my life. 
 
 " I found relief in teaching. A professorship 
 was given to me. There was a large attendance 
 one winter semester. To help out several of the 
 men, I shared my rooms with them for a number 
 of weeks. By an accident our writing was oddly 
 similar I saw one day how one of the students 
 had written concerning my * scholarship and abil- 
 ity,' and in ending the letter, he said he hoped his 
 father would visit him and come to know me. 
 
 " During the course of the winter the young 
 man became ill, and died before his parents could 
 arrive. His mother came the morning of her 
 son's death. When she saw he was dead, a cry 
 of agony escaped her lips ; she called his name and 
 mine, and fainted. 
 
 " Next day she died. Together, mother and 
 son were taken home. Before she died, she told 
 me she had sent him to me for my teaching. She 
 hoped to compensate me with him for the sor- 
 row of my life. 
 
 " You see, my son," the monk continued, " a 
 woman's heart can never quite forget the man who 
 has loved her, whom she has loved. 
 
 " Friends came to me with comfort and advice,
 
 98 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CKEIGHTON 
 
 but they brought no consolation, .What were 
 these to one who hung upon the heavy cross of 
 mystery, and in whose heart the problem of exist- 
 ence lay heavy and unsolved ? 
 
 " The world, life, death, eternity the thought 
 of all these multiplied the anguish of my soul. 
 The final light of hope faded for me, and died; 
 and, not caring for life, yet still clinging to it be- 
 cause I doubted another, I passed within the 
 shadow of that tower, and the monastery closed 
 behind me." 
 
 The monk now stood before him, having arisen 
 as he concluded. His stalwart figure, in brown, 
 his white hair, his keen eye, his frank, untroubled 
 manner, made him a figure of commanding 
 power. 
 
 "And did you find the comfort you sought ? " 
 Quinn inquired. 
 
 " No. But I found a comfort of a different 
 sort. Real value is in the aim, in the purpose to 
 be achieved. I had known this as a theory, but 
 now I had to bring it to my life. When I came 
 here I am not a priest I came to find, if pos- 
 sible, the resignation, the faith, the security, the 
 solace which I had heard the men found who live 
 here." 
 
 " It's the last place I should have chosen ! " 
 Quinn exclaimed. 
 
 " So you think now, my son, and so I thought 
 in the old days. But this is not life outside of
 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 99 
 
 living, as you think. It is life in authority not 
 inspired from without, but derived from within. 
 
 " Fortunately for us, some things are self-evi- 
 dent, as things that are equal to the same thing 
 are equal to each other. So we know that our 
 days are numbered, and we want to meet God in 
 peace. In the hour when we face the inevitable 
 thing we call Death, we would be on good terms 
 with the universe. Such is the wish of every soul, 
 and the human mind, my son, is such that it must 
 give assent to these truths. The mark of a master 
 mind is the love of truth and pursuit of it. In 
 such, there is no confusion of issues, no prejudiced 
 conclusion, no evasion through fear, or supersti- 
 tion. 
 
 "A picture, a poem, a play, a novel, a lecture, an 
 essay or a sermon, if it expresses life, has four 
 simple elements: first, beauty; second, interest; 
 third, vitality; and fourth, inspiration power to 
 embody in your life all that you found therein. 
 Simply to know that a thing is beautiful amounts 
 to nothing. But to feel it, to have its glory thrill 
 you, to have its appeal awaken in your soul the 
 music of life, and to have it bring to you the con- 
 sciousness that you belong to the great company of 
 immortals who, through suffering, have been made 
 strong that makes you feel rich rich in- 
 deed " The monk paused. 
 
 " It's all right to feel rich," said Quinn. " I 
 agree with you there ; but feeling that way doesn't
 
 100 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CKEIGHTON 
 
 make you so. I like you, and your company, but 
 if it weren't for you, this outfit would drive one to 
 lunacy. I don't like your life here, and I'm not 
 going to say I do." 
 
 " Nevertheless, we have to deal with things as 
 they are," said the brother, " and there are two 
 ways of looking at them. You can look at pre- 
 cious stones and see sand, charcoal and rust; or, 
 you can see the heart beat in an opal, and the sun 
 in the heart of the diamond. So, also, you can 
 know the universe as matter, or you can see it in 
 the terms of spirit. 
 
 " Listen to this," and the monk took from his 
 pocket a little book and began to read. 
 
 " ' Socrates: We are agreed that he who uses a 
 thing is always different from the thing he uses. 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: That is agreed between us. 
 
 "'Socrates: So that the shoemaker and the 
 harper are some other thing than the hands and 
 eyes which they both use. 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: That is plain. 
 ' Socrates: Man uses his body. 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: Who doubts it? 
 
 ' Socrates : That which uses a thing is differ- 
 ent from the thing which is used. 
 
 "'Alcibiades: Yes. 
 
 "'Socrates: Man, then, is a different thing 
 from his body? 
 
 "'Alcibiades: I believe it. 
 
 " ' Socrates: What is man, then?
 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 101 
 
 "' Alcibiades: Indeed, Socrates, I cannot tell. 
 
 " ' Socrates : You can at least tell me that man is 
 that which uses the body. 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: That is true. 
 
 "'Socrates: Is there anything that uses the 
 body besides the soul? 
 
 "'Alcibiades: No, nothing else. 
 
 " * Socrates: Is it that that governs? 
 
 " ' Alcibiades : Most certainly. 
 
 ' Socrates: I believe that there is no man but 
 is forced to confess 
 
 "'Alcibiades: What? 
 
 "'Socrates: That man is either one of these 
 three things: either the soul or the body, or the 
 compound of them both. Now are we agreed that 
 man is that which commands the body? 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: That we are. 
 
 ' Socrates: What is man, then? Does the 
 body command itself? No, for we have said it is 
 the man that commands that. So that the body is 
 not the man. 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: So it seems. 
 
 ' Socrates: Is it then the compound that com- 
 mands the body ? And shall this compound be the 
 man? 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: That may be. 
 
 'Socrates: Nothing less. For, since one of 
 them does not command, as we have already said, 
 it is impossible that both should command to- 
 gether.
 
 102 VINDICATION OP EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 " ' Alcibiades: It is very true. 
 
 " * Socrates: Seeing then neither the body nor 
 the compound of soul and body are the man, it is 
 absolutely necessary either that man be nothing at 
 all, or that the soul alone be the man/ 
 
 " That, my son, is reasoning. Now, the one 
 thing that you were most certain of as regards 
 yourself while listening is the fact that you are 
 yourself a conscious thinker. It is not possible 
 to reason about a self unless there is a self to do 
 the reasoning. I have been telling you about my- 
 self as I am now and as I was twenty years ago. 
 I am the same person, even though I wonder at it. 
 I know this because I can note the meaning of the 
 changes the years have brought. We learn by 
 contact. Pardon me for teaching a physician 
 matters in which he is better informed than I ; but 
 it is all in the lesson. You know we learn, I re- 
 peat, by contact. By a system of nerves, there is 
 carried to the brain impressions made upon us by 
 the external world. Other nerves carry the mes- 
 sages from the brain to the organs of motion. By 
 means of the nerve lines that go to the brain, we 
 obtain our knowledge of the outside world; by 
 means of the nerve lines that go out from the 
 brain, we perform our actions. This forms the 
 physical basis upon which our life is carried morn- 
 ing and evening, year in and year out, until the 
 span is ended. Thus knowing and acting make 
 up the warp and woof of life. But to interpret
 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 103 
 
 life is different from life itself. When we iden- 
 tify our experiences, sensation becomes perception, 
 and we know that the nerve lines are no more the 
 personality that perceives these impressions than 
 the piano is the musician who plays upon it. Our 
 personal appearance is largely a racial product and 
 the result of environment. We are born, grow, 
 mature, decay, die that is the order of nature. 
 Our bodily self, with its singularities, passes away, 
 but the true self that looks out through the eyes, 
 that speaks through the voice, is of a different sub- 
 stance, and just as after sleep we awake to take up 
 the threads of conscious life again, thus when the 
 physical life ceases, the personality will continue 
 its growth toward the larger self-hood of which 
 we feel ourselves capable. 
 
 " In the library, there is a manuscript written 
 long before the Christian era. When I read it, I 
 feel the heart-beat of the man who wrote the 
 words. Through it I trace the spirit of the writer 
 as he voices the yearnings and desires of the men 
 of his day. Is the genius less enduring than his 
 parchment ? 
 
 " When you were a boy, did you fly your kite at 
 dusk? If you did, perhaps you could not see the 
 kite, but you felt its pull, and you knew that it was 
 there! My friend, each one of us flies kites at 
 nightfall in this human world and the tug we 
 feel is the pull of the eternal." 
 
 Noting that the monk seemed tired, Quinn said,
 
 104 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 " You are very kind, and I thank you. It is all 
 very clear to you, and when I listen, I seem to 
 command myself, but I confess that the only thing 
 I am sure about is, that I am not sure about any- 
 thing." 
 
 " So you have taken stock of your soul?" the 
 monk asked eagerly. " You have lifted yourself 
 into the larger mood? Have you read and 
 thought and sought as much of God as you 
 have of material things? Is there only a house 
 and no builder? Is there only music and no 
 master ? Is there only a machine and no mechani- 
 cian? 
 
 " When you turn the leaves of a book, it shows 
 order and arrangement. This arrangement dis- 
 closes thought. These solid walls of the monas- 
 tery mean thought. The ship that brought you, 
 and that comes and goes at intervals, lands here by 
 agreed direction. Now, order, stability and direc- 
 tion are evident everywhere. But it is a mind 
 that works through them, and in them is a mind 
 that reveals itself in its action. 
 
 " When I showed you our monastery and 
 pointed out the arches, the pictures, the statues, the 
 books, the walk along the cloister, suppose you 
 had asked, ' Who lives here ? ' and suppose that I 
 had answered, * No one. No one ever has. It is 
 wall and space, there is no tenant anywhere.' Tell 
 me, my son, how would you have felt? What 
 would have been your thought?
 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 105 
 
 "Here is this solid earth, this open sky, these 
 stars, this sea. Here are flowers that charm us 
 with beauty, and birds that move through the sun- 
 light. Now speed through the universe. Touch 
 every star. Then call through the spaces and ask, 
 ' Where is the Master of the House ? ' And if the 
 answer came, ' There is no Master/ My son, 
 would you laugh or would your heart die of 
 loneliness ? " 
 
 " Yes," Quinn replied, " if I thought of the uni- 
 verse in that way, I would be heartsick. I think of 
 the builder when I see a house; but when I see a 
 tree, I do not think that some one made it. To 
 me, the universe is a living thing ; but to you, it is 
 a house. If you ask me who the master may be, 
 I must say that so far as I know, the master of 
 the house is Man himself, and none other. A 
 sorry answer, but I know no better." 
 
 The monk made no direct reply. For the mo- 
 ment he gazed into the distance with luminous 
 eyes. ' The riddle of existence," he said pres- 
 ently, and he spoke as though he were communing 
 with himself, " is a mystery to the finite mind. 
 We must take ourselves as we are. Just now, 
 right here, we are a part of the universe. In 
 planning our lives, the question is, how can we 
 best spend our days ? There must be a right way ; 
 the right way must be the best way ; and it must be 
 best to live the right way. We must accept some 
 leadership, some way. And when all other anchors
 
 106 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEBIGHTON 
 
 give way, there is left no leadership but Christ. I 
 have found it adequate and satisfying." 
 
 " Put that way, Christ, no doubt, stands su- 
 preme, but how does your faith in Him bring you 
 the assurance you seek? " 
 
 " My son, when you think of a church, a palace, 
 a picture, a poem, you can always imagine a more 
 perfect structure, a finer picture, a lovelier poem. 
 
 " But it is here Christ stands alone. His views 
 are eminence. His time is endless. His spirit 
 rules the minds of men wherever the world is best. 
 By common consent, His teachings are the whole 
 world's test of excellence. ' No mortal can with 
 Him compare among the sons of men.' 
 
 " Our Master did not try to argue a belief in the 
 existence of God. He taught men to say ' Our 
 Father/ and they were satisfied. 
 
 " Our Lord did not try to prove immortality. 
 He spoke of the many mansions. 
 
 " Christ did not argue the worth of the human 
 soul. He recovered a Magdalene. 
 
 " My son, these truths fit into life wherever it is 
 reckoned at its best, and it is by faith in these 
 truths that men have attained their worth, and 
 their most glorious destiny. Listen ! " and they 
 paused to hear the strains of the " Te Deum ": 
 
 " Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ, 
 Thou art the Everlasting Son of the Father," 
 
 As the music died away, the monk said, " We
 
 FOLLOWING THE GLEAM 107 
 
 lose many things in life, but the supreme calamity 
 is loss of God." Then after a pause, he continued, 
 " I want to tell you sometime about our island, 
 and a man who lived here. Not now. But re- 
 member this, my son, take the long view and re- 
 member also * it doth not yet appear what we 
 shall be.' "
 
 X 
 
 RAINBOWS ON PARADE 
 
 GREIGHTON believed that every man 
 must have three things religion, a job 
 and a hobby. Some men run to religion ; 
 they saunter with their heads in the clouds until 
 they tumble off into a well. Others are " busi- 
 ness " ; as if the end of man was to leave behind 
 him a fortune. Still others go off on hobbies; 
 once astride, they never dismount. If a man has 
 no religion, Creighton held, he ignores the man 
 within himself; a man without a job becomes de- 
 moralized; and, if he lacks a hobby, he forgets 
 how to play. But with the three religion, a job, 
 and a hobby, he said you have a clean, industrious, 
 happy man. 
 
 Creighton knew every soul in the camp, Mexi- 
 can, Chinese, Swede or Guinea, and called them 
 by name without hesitation. It was one of his 
 hobbies to locate the men in zones, according to 
 temperament and disposition, and in a way pecul- 
 iarly his own! If a man was easily taken in, he 
 was green ; if he was insolent and cowardly, he was 
 yellow ; if he was reminiscent, always living in the 
 past, he was indigo; if he praised himself and 
 
 1 08
 
 RAINBOWS ON PAKADE 109 
 
 laughed at his own jokes, he was violet; if he was 
 hostile, reckless, belligerent, he was red ; and, if he 
 was kind, he was orange ! 
 
 For an hour each day, Creighton met the men 
 who had a grievance, or who, for any reason, 
 wanted to see him. He called the procession " the 
 rainbows." 
 
 He was speaking to a thick-necked man one 
 morning. The fellow had heavy brows and a look 
 of chronic grouch. " Well, Sibley," Creighton 
 asked, as the man slipped into a chair, " what's 
 the trouble to-day ? " 
 
 Without heeding the question, the man an- 
 nounced that he was going to quit the job, and 
 wanted his " time." 
 
 " What's the trouble ? " Creighton repeated in a 
 quiet voice. 
 
 "Trouble?" the man demanded. "Trouble! 
 I'll tell you what's the trouble. I don't know no- 
 body, and nobody knows me. What's more, I 
 don't want to know nobody. Anyway, there are 
 too many bosses." 
 
 " Why not write to some of your friends that 
 you do know ? " Creighton asked. 
 
 " Write " there was a pause after the word 
 
 was pronounced. " Write ! I've been away a 
 long time. I can't write, I don't know how, 
 I " 
 
 " Let me do it for you," said Creighton, reliev- 
 ing the evident embarrassment of the man's con-
 
 110 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 fession. " It won't take a minute," and turning 
 to the typewriter, ticked off the following letter: 
 
 " DEAR FOLKS: 
 
 " I've been living a sort of a grasshopper 
 life since I left you. I know I didn't do right in 
 not letting you know about myself, but I wasn't in 
 one place long enough to give an address, so I just 
 let it go at that. I am working up here with a 
 gang of men on a big job of engineering. It's a 
 big proposition and I don't know any of the men, 
 but I'm getting acquainted a little and if I stick, I 
 think there is a good chance for me. I guess you 
 think it's time I was staying by a job long enough 
 to make something happen, and maybe I can. 
 Anyway, if you will send a letter here I will get 
 it and be mighty glad to hear from the best folks 
 on earth. 
 
 " Your son, 
 
 " FRANK SIBLEY." 
 
 As Creighton read the letter, Sibley drew his 
 chair close, and, leaning forward, said, "Say! 
 Mister, what's your line?" 
 
 " Give you ten guesses," Creighton answered, 
 " and while you're guessing, I'll just add a post- 
 script." 
 
 " P. S. The boss says to tell you that while the 
 place where I work is called ' Devil's Gate,' the 
 gate is shut and the Devil is locked out, and I'll say 
 it's the cleanest camp I ever worked in. 
 
 " FRANK."
 
 RAINBOWS ON PAEADE 111 
 
 "And just tell them, won't you," Sibley inter- 
 posed, " that I'm working for you, and put in this 
 money?" and he drew a crumpled bill out of his 
 pocket and gave it to Creighton, while a new light 
 glowed in his countenance. 
 
 The next man to come in was in a bad way. 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Creighton," he exclaimed, 
 and then he repeated the words, several times, 
 nervously. 
 
 " Sit down, my friend," said Creighton; "you're 
 seeing red." 
 
 " I've quit," said the man, looking at nothing in 
 particular. " Don't count on me, I tell you. I'm 
 out of it." 
 
 " Why the hurry, Morasch ? " Creighton 
 asked. 
 
 " You're all right, Mr. Creighton. You've had 
 things handed to you all of your life, but " 
 
 " Yes, I know," Creighton interposed. " I 
 have had things handed to me all my life, as you 
 say. I've been through a lot; that's why I want 
 you to stay by the game. Easy-money never made 
 a man happy, useful or liked. The only way we 
 can keep our self-respect is by doing our best. 
 Have you ever figured out the difference between 
 a common man and a great one? Lincoln ate and 
 slept just as we do, but when he spoke or split 
 rails, he made that one job great. It isn't what 
 men do ; it's the way they do it." 
 
 Suddenly the man threw his hands up over his
 
 112 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 head. " I've done time ! " he cried. "And the 
 warden's in camp ! " 
 
 " Morasch, I'm not concerned with what you 
 have done; I'm interested in what you are doing. 
 This is big league stuff. You could put steam into 
 the game if you'd try. Give yourself a try-out. 
 You've got them all faded for ability. Then, too, 
 it's taken for granted when a man is on the pay- 
 roll, he'll stick, and do his best. This is your 
 chance, and if you don't come through, good- 
 night." 
 
 " I'm with you, Mr. Creighton," said the man. 
 
 " Good ! " said Creighton, and as the fellow left 
 him, his head dropped and he sat so, thinking. 
 
 " What's in the package, Savitch? " he asked, as 
 the next man came in. The fellow had dropped a 
 bundle and a photograph slipped out. 
 
 " I'm through ! " said the man, ignoring the 
 question. " Here's her letters and her picture, 
 and back they go! She always says she needs 
 more money and why don't I send more ! I've got 
 to lose her. I've quit the job and I'll thank you 
 for my pay." 
 
 " Sit down, Savitch," said Creighton. After a 
 moment, he asked, " Is what she writes true ? 
 Couldn't you send her more ? " 
 
 To this there was no response. 
 
 " I don't know what you have been doing," con- 
 tinued Creighton. " There's a proverb that says, 
 'When you're cornered, don't lie: ask questions.'
 
 KAOBOWS ON PAEADB 113 
 
 Savitch, you are getting money enough to support 
 yourself and your wife, and do it handsomely. 
 Why all this fuss? If she's asking for more than 
 she needs, find out why. Get at the truth. I'll 
 guarantee that all she wants is to find out what 
 you get. She wants what's hers, and she's right 
 to want it If she's asking for more than her 
 share, she'll back down, when she understands. 
 But if you're just peeved with her, that's a luxury 
 you can't afford. Don't be in a hurry. When 
 people figure calmly and get at the facts, they gen- 
 erally stay friends. A man gives mighty little 
 when he marries. He keeps his job, gets a home 
 where he's boss, and a cook and a nurse and chil- 
 dren, if he's lucky. How about a woman? She 
 gets the dishes and the scrubbing and the washing 
 maybe she leaves an easier job in some office to 
 be your girl. For what ! To run the risk of be- 
 ing thrown down by a fellow like you, then where 
 is she? You asked her! She didn't ask you! 
 What are you going to do ? " 
 
 While Creighton was speaking, Savitch sat lis- 
 tening. The picture was face up upon the floor. 
 
 " May I see that picture ? " asked Creighton. 
 " Your wife ? " he asked, after he had looked at it. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Savitch, green is your colour all right. Man, 
 listen to me! If that is a picture of your wife, 
 you ought to thank God ! Here, take it ! Go back 
 to your room. Write her a letter. Inclose this
 
 114 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 bill. I will advance it on your next pay envelope. 
 Win her all over again, and I'll arrange to have 
 her come here and live with you." 
 
 The man considered. " I'll do it, Mr. Creigh- 
 ton, and I thank you," came the reply. 
 
 As the man went out, Swen entered, very much 
 agitated. " Maester Creighton," he said, " dis 
 ban a gude chance to make tings vin. Dis har 
 land ban all made over new. It ban a big yob, but 
 yu do it. Ay spose us guys ban a tough bunch, 
 and ay spose yu like to quit, maybe often, but men 
 all ban loyal to yu. Da all say yu ban a gude f aller 
 to them. Ay ant hardly know vat to say, Mr. 
 Creighton. Ay ant know vat to say, but vat for 
 ban reason of dat deputy from bull pen to be in 
 camp ? Mr. Creighton, yu know ay ban yust a tuf 
 old lumberyack. Sum pepul tink a lumberyack 
 faller ban yust a poor sucker. Val maybe, but if 
 dat geezer try to give me a stall, val, ay ban raising 
 hal mighty quick, ay tel yu." 
 
 At mention of the deputy, Creighton gave Swen 
 a sharp look. It was the same look that had passed 
 between them the evening they met at the camp 
 fire. 
 
 "Vat he vant, anyvay?" Swen continued, re- 
 turning an understanding glance. " I see bunch 
 of men talk low an sidestep quick. All ackt like 
 horses van a big storm come. If he trow monkey 
 ranch into machinery, he get his, ay tel yu. Sam 
 say to me, 'Ay tank it ban a shame to be missing a
 
 RAINBOWS ON PARADE 115 
 
 fine chance to give dat deputy his. Dar ant no 
 place in dis har camp for him. If he ban vise he 
 vill strike retreat before ve put a gude crimp in 
 him.' Leave him to me and Sam, Mr. Creighton; 
 leave dat guy to me and Sam," and so saying, 
 Swen departed as unceremoniously as he had en- 
 tered. 
 
 Creighton now sat at his desk, reviewing the 
 progress of the work with Russell. 
 
 When Russell was about to leave, he turned and 
 said, " By the way, is there a man in camp by the 
 name of Blackburn? " 
 
 Creighton sat for a moment finishing the writ- 
 ing in which he was engaged, then turning, he 
 looked the President of the Board in the face and 
 asked, " Why ? Who wants him ? " 
 
 " Just as I came in," Russell replied, " I met one 
 of the deputy wardens out in the camp. He said 
 he was trying to locate Blackburn and several 
 men. He thought some of them were either 
 here or in the camp that is at work on the tun- 
 nel." 
 
 " Send him in," said Creighton. 
 
 A few moments later, Warden Delaney came 
 through the door of the office. Creighton arose to 
 meet him. The men looked at each other neither 
 spoke a word for a moment. 
 
 " Sit down," said Creighton. 
 
 " By the eternal ! " the warden exclaimed. 
 "You!"
 
 116 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 " Yes, by the eternal me ! " Creighton replied. 
 "Sit down!" 
 
 " You're heading up this project? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm heading up this project. Sit down! " 
 
 Creighton's voice was quiet. 
 
 " You've had your way long enough, Delaney," 
 he said. " Now you're due for a show-down. 
 There was a time when I took orders from you. 
 In the bull pen, I lost my self-respect, and my 
 name. After I was out, it was a fight to put down 
 all I remembered, night and day! Defeat beat 
 down on me. No gleam of hope did any man ever 
 get from you or the likes of you. Not a man goes 
 out of your hell without murder in his heart. 
 That's because he thinks you're the State. Oh, 
 you're on the State pay-roll, because your brother's 
 ' next ' ! But you couldn't keep a dog-pound on 
 your own merits. The dogs would eat you ! Now 
 you come down here a spotter. And I wonder 
 what the record would say if a spotter had tracked 
 you during the last twenty- four hours ! On collu- 
 sion with Fleck, are you? He's been here! But 
 you don't need to squeal on yourself your face 
 does it! 
 
 " Now, the man whose name you mentioned to 
 the President of the Board is in the camp. So are 
 others. So am I. Some of them paroled, some 
 pardoned, some escaped, some have served their 
 time. All these men are making good. If they 
 lose their jobs, I'll know why and so will you!
 
 BAINBOWS ON PARADE 117 
 
 Now, you keep your mouth shut or I'll shut it! 
 And I tell you when I shut it, it's shut and shut to 
 stay! Now get out! We need your room." 
 
 As the warden left the office, Russell, who was 
 approaching, paused outside. He thought he 
 heard Creighton giving orders, then a silence en- 
 sued, and he noted the white-lipped warden as he 
 walked away. 
 
 That any man should hate Creighton seemed in- 
 credible. " Things have been going too well to 
 last," he mused, " but whatever the trouble is, I'll 
 stand by Creighton," he said, and entered the 
 office. 
 
 " You heard what I said to the warden ? " 
 Creighton inquired, as Russell came in, arising 
 from his desk and holding a paper in his hand. 
 
 "I heard parts of it," Russell replied. "I 
 couldn't make out what you were saying." 
 
 " Here is my resignation," said Creighton, hold- 
 ing out the paper in his hand. " I have just writ- 
 ten it ; the ink isn't dry." 
 
 Russell stood looking at Creighton. Both his 
 hands were jammed into his trousers' pockets, as 
 was his custom. 
 
 'Your resignation!" Russell repeated. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Don't say any more. I don't know what has 
 happened, and I don't care. You didn't get your 
 job by a pull, and you have earned your right to 
 hold it. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to the
 
 118 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CKEIGHTOST 
 
 Board, you owe it to the men, and you owe it to 
 the people to carry this project through. As for 
 the warden, I don't know what he knows, I don't 
 know what he said, and I don't care to know! 
 You listen to me ! I'm no preacher, but the Book 
 says the Lord casts our sins into the sea, and if He 
 does that, why cut bait, go fish for them? What 
 man dares to think out loud ? Not the best of us ! 
 And that's nothing against us either. It means 
 that some things are ours and the Lord's, and no- 
 body else's! Creighton, this is your stunt. You 
 know the work, and what's more, you know 
 men. 
 
 " We have just made arrangements with a 
 movie concern to film the whole project. Every- 
 thing will be filmed and shown around the world. 
 Don't lie down on us ! You are making good. I 
 believe in the gospel of another chance ; so do you. 
 We all live by faith in something. Ultimately, 
 we have to trust somebody, and we trust you, im- 
 plicitly." 
 
 " Thank you," said Creighton, simply. " Nev- 
 ertheless, Mr. Russell, my resignation is in your 
 hands to go into effect any time it will help you, or 
 serve the cause." 
 
 Russell tore the paper up and threw it into the 
 waste-basket. 
 
 " It will be time enough to write it when it is 
 called for," he said. 
 
 Once outside the office, the warden had walked
 
 ON PAEADE 119 
 
 slowly across the camp to the trail where he 
 paused a moment in silence, looking into va- 
 cancy, mortification written upon his counte- 
 nance. He had come to the camp to spy out 
 a few men, and found Creighton. Into his 
 mind had sprung the hope that he might 
 blackmail Creighton into silence, for Creighton 
 knew too much. But he had mistaken his 
 man. For a moment, but only for a moment, 
 a startling sensation of what it all meant shot 
 through his mind. What Creighton had said was 
 right. He knew its truth and justice. Here he 
 might have parted with his double dealing, and he 
 would have, had he been possessed of any honour. 
 But this was the one thing he did not possess. 
 Every impulse of his being had long since turned 
 devil's advocate. The whole horizon of his life 
 was narrowed down to the rim of a piece of 
 money. All light, save the light of cunning, had 
 long since gone from his eye. Now he faced the 
 mirror of truth as Creighton had held it up to him, 
 and there was a puzzled expression in his coun- 
 tenance, the sign of bewilderment that comes to 
 the man who has been suddenly and completely 
 outdone in his own game. 
 
 As the warden crossed the camp, Sam was com- 
 ing in to make a report. Sam's quick eye detected 
 the fact that things were not running smoothly. 
 He saw the warden's hand slip over his hip pocket 
 as he looked to the right and left, pausing a num-
 
 120 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 ber of times on his way to the trail that led out of 
 the camp. 
 
 " I'll just give that guy the once-over," said 
 Sam to himself, " so he doesn't miss the way," 
 and he rolled a cigarette and sauntered to a bluff 
 that gave a view of the trail. " I've got a hunch I 
 may be needed." 
 
 Sam always followed his hunch, as he called it. 
 He believed implicitly in his great hopes and fears. 
 They had been his infallible guides. " Results are 
 what I'm after," he said, and he generally got re- 
 sults. And so he believed absolutely in the in- 
 tegrity of his mental operations. 
 
 " I don't care what you call it," he had said, 
 " but there's something in every man with gray 
 matter back of his eye, and whatever it is, it won't 
 lead him wrong, if he's on the square." 
 
 As superintendent of the tunnel construction 
 work, Sam was popular with his men. The best 
 shot in the camp, he had additional claim to their 
 admiration in his rugged manliness, his prompt de- 
 cision and his honest dealings. As he came around 
 the shoulder of the hill, he saw Jean coming along 
 the trail about a mile below. 
 
 "Ah, ha! You are needed now, Mr. Man." 
 Sam said, as he hurried his pace. In a few mo- 
 ments he had reached a point from which he could 
 look down upon the trail as it wound around and 
 doubled back on the mountainside. Here he 
 awaited developments. Presently, Jean appeared
 
 RAINBOWS ON PARADE 121 
 
 on the lower side of the trail turned to the left, 
 started up a path, the whole stretch of which came 
 under his range of vision from the place where he 
 was waiting. In another moment, from above, 
 he saw the deputy going down. The two were 
 now approaching each other, and Sam saw the 
 deputy pause, stand in the center of the trail and, 
 as Jean drew near, said something. 
 
 Jean drew back, and as she did so, Sam saw the 
 deputy catch at her wrist, and, in the struggle, 
 throw his arm about her. 
 
 Sam leaped to the rescue, not waiting to round 
 the trail. Instantly the men grappled. Now Sam 
 knew the cunning holds and the desperate grips of 
 wrestling. Moreover, he knew how to bide his 
 time, for his iron muscles never failed him. Be- 
 yond all this, he was defending a woman and his 
 nerves thrilled with power. But the warden, too, 
 had had experience in grappling with men. He 
 knew the cruel hammerlock with which he had, on 
 more than one occasion, broken the body and 
 spirit of a prisoner who had rebelled against the 
 treatment that was being meted out to him. Sam 
 and the warden struggled. They swayed among 
 the branches that overhung their heads. It was a 
 grim, fierce, silent battle. In every attempt to get 
 the deadly hold on Sam, the warden was unsuc- 
 cessful. Panting for breath, he realized that this 
 was an occasion where bluff would not carry the 
 day. There was no one to call. No guards were
 
 122 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 near. There was no whistle to blow, and no one 
 to respond to his call for help, and man to man 
 he knew that he was being outdone. With Sam, 
 the situation had passed the point of doubt, if 
 indeed there had ever been a doubt in his mind as 
 to the outcome. He had turned his ankle in the 
 leap and it pained him frightfully, but confident in 
 himself, he held the warden until the ugly face was 
 swollen, and the neck was knotted and blue ! Jean 
 looked on in agonized suspense. Then she saw 
 Sam's arm slip beneath the warden's shoulder and 
 around his neck; he set his grip with an even 
 deadlier clutch, until, writhing in agony, and no 
 longer able to withstand the deadly hold of his 
 assailant, the warden doubled back and went down. 
 For a long time no one spoke, while Sam stood 
 over his late antagonist, strong and serene. There 
 was no sign of mercy in his features. At last he 
 ordered the warden to rise, and that unworthy 
 slowly got to his feet, trembling with exhaustion. 
 His coat was welted, his face was covered with 
 dust. 
 
 Jean drew near, and as she stood beside Sam 
 and touched his arm, she said, " I am I hope you 
 are Is he ?" 
 
 " Yes, Jean," Sam replied, as the muscles of his 
 face relaxed for the first time. " I am and 
 
 you are and he will be " Then turning 
 
 to the warden, he said, "Apologize to the 
 lady!"
 
 EAINBOWS ON PAEADB 123 
 
 " I beg your pardon," the warden stammered, in 
 abject obedience. " I " 
 
 " No excuses," Sam commanded. " Now beat 
 it ! " Then he turned to Jean and said, " I think 
 it will be all right for you to go up to the office. 
 Mr. Creighton is waiting for you and will be glad 
 to see you." 
 
 Turning to the warden, Sam said, " You better 
 make your get-away before Swen gets hold of you. 
 What's happened to you isn't a circumstance to 
 what you'll get if he gets you! Beat it, and no 
 loafing!" 
 
 In about thirty minutes, the warden ought to 
 reach a point on the trail further down. Sam 
 waited, rolling and smoking another cigarette. 
 Presently the warden appeared, limping along the 
 way, and Sam arose and started up the trail. 
 
 When Jean came into the office, not a little 
 agitated, she found Creighton sitting alone at his 
 desk absorbed in thought. She had entered so 
 quietly that at first he was unaware of her pres- 
 ence. She was on the point of withdrawing, fear- 
 ing that she had made a blunder in entering un- 
 announced, when Creighton looked up and, seeing 
 her, said, " Jean, I thought you were " 
 
 " Mr. Creighton, excuse me, but you are not 
 sick, are you? " 
 
 "No, Jean, I'm just Sit down," he 
 
 added. " Tell me about Quinn." 
 
 " Mr. Creighton, since the news about the Nor-
 
 124 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 man reached us, I have waited, hoping against 
 hope that Quinn would be alive, but the last word 
 from the Company's office is that the Captain and 
 Quinn were on board when the ship went down, 
 and must have gone down with her. I have 
 promised to sing for the men to-night, as you 
 know, but I don't see how I can." 
 
 Before her, as she stood back of Creighton, Jean 
 saw the mottoes that hung above his desk. One 
 read : 
 
 "ALL GLORIOUS THINGS ARE DIFFICULT" 
 and the other: 
 
 " THE BEST FUN IN LIFE is WORK." 
 
 " I suppose you know the meaning of these mot- 
 toes," Jean said, after a pause. " It is because 
 you have made such a success of a very hard under- 
 taking that all men honour and respect you. From 
 the day Quinn introduced you on the trail, I have 
 always associated you with him and his plans. 
 Somehow, I seem always to have known you. 
 Your voice isn't like any other voice I have ever 
 heard, but it seems familiar. When I look into 
 your eyes, your glance gives me a sense of peace, 
 and hope in my heart. I have never known what 
 it is to have a father, but I often think he must 
 have been a man like you." 
 
 Creighton sat in his chair quietly. Why did he,
 
 BAHSTBOWS ON PAKADE 125 
 
 a man, sit by and allow this girl to do the talking? 
 She needed comfort. She wanted some one in 
 whose presence she could show her grief. All this 
 Creighton knew, but he could not move. The 
 thought of Fleck, on the one hand, and of Delaney, 
 on the other, unnerved him. 
 
 Then he thought of the men of his " rainbow 
 parade," with whom he had talked that morning, 
 and of what he had said to them. Poor things, at 
 best, but they at least had some colour, and every 
 shade is necessary to make the rainbow that spans 
 the sky of life with hope and beauty. As for him- 
 self, he seemed as black as midnight just black 
 despair. He dared not turn to face her. He 
 could not meet her gaze. The thought of the 
 warden held him, and made him helpless. 
 
 Thus they remained in silence, conscious only 
 that their hearts were beating. 
 
 It is one of the blessings of heaven that when 
 the strain of life reaches the breaking point, relief 
 comes through little things. In the midst of the 
 tension that held them both, Scotty came bounding 
 through the door, came close up, looked into 
 Creighton's face, then into Jean's; finally, as if 
 sensing the situation, he sat down between them, 
 lowered his head and looked at them solemn and 
 profound.
 
 XI 
 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 
 
 AS the slow days passed, Quinn sought to 
 ease the friction of his enforced stay in 
 the monastery by engaging in some first- 
 hand explorations about the island. He walked 
 to the opposite shore. He went to the south end 
 where he found a colony of seals on the rocks. 
 In climbing to the highest peak, an elevation of 
 two thousand feet, he found a number of wild 
 goats. 
 
 In the bay in front of the monastery, the water 
 was calm, and Quinn noted how the rocks were 
 covered with fields of kelp. He built a raft, in 
 the center of which he framed a piece of window 
 glass, and looking through it, he saw a water 
 garden of gorgeous proportions and colour. He 
 watched the purple blossoms of the sea violets as 
 they swayed with the motion of the water; it 
 reminded him of fields of blowing wheat. He 
 gathered specimens of moss, lavender and red, 
 noting how they permanently retained their col- 
 ours. He watched the fish as they passed to and 
 fro through the mosses, and remarked on how 
 they had a better home than the monks. " And 
 happier too," he concluded. 
 
 126
 
 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 127 
 
 " If I had chosen to do this," he mused, as he 
 started up the trail to the monastery, " I'd like it ! 
 But having had no choice in the matter, I protest. 
 This is strange, different, surprising, but I don't 
 want it! I lack the spirit of adventure. If Jean 
 
 were here " then it occurred to him that the 
 
 monks wouldn't have her about. 
 
 He called to mind the story of the monk's life, 
 his love and disappointment. It seemed to him 
 that he had heard that same old story sometime or 
 other, before, but he passed it by. He even con- 
 sidered the monk as the possible " Roberts " for 
 whom the lost letter had been intended had, in- 
 deed, gone over with him a second time the nature 
 of his mission thither; and to his conjectures, the 
 monk had lent an ever attentive ear and had re- 
 turned a pious comment upon the dispensations of 
 Providence. That was all! And no one else at 
 the monastery, upon Qulnn's inquiry, had declared 
 a knowledge of any Roberts. Quinn's mission to 
 the Isle of Patmos, then, had proved a blind alley. 
 " It's a part of life as it is lived by thousands of 
 people, only we don't know the individual cases," 
 he said to himself. 
 
 Often he went to a quiet corner in the library, 
 took a book, and in a spirit of impatience, began 
 to turn the pages. The situation was beginning to 
 pall upon him ; it was intolerable. He was on the 
 point of closing the book one day, when he noted 
 the words:
 
 128 VINDICATION OF EOBEBT CEEIGHTOX 
 
 " Fretfulness on the surface is the out- 
 ward mark of a lack of depth within." 
 
 " He alone is heart-free whose affections 
 center in God." 
 
 " To set our hearts on things beyond our 
 range and to pretend that they are our native 
 heath is to deceive no one but ourselves." 
 
 " Mental vagueness may bring a momen- 
 tary magical happiness, but quietude of mind 
 can only come to those who are vividly sen- 
 sible of the claims of love, service and 
 progress." 
 
 As Ouinn read each paragraph, now deeply in- 
 terested, the monk drew near and, unobserved, 
 stood beside him. He was pleased to see Quinn 
 sitting among the books. The picture brought a 
 smile of approval to his countenance. He shot a 
 quick glance over the page Ouinn was reading, 
 waiting for Quinn to break the silence, but Quinn 
 was in no mood to talk. Homesick as he was, he 
 had no wish to be treated as a lost sheep or a 
 down-and-out. He felt the need of comradeship, 
 but any professional condescension would have 
 huffed him beyond endurance. 
 
 " I love these old volumes," the monk said 
 finally, as Ouinn returned the book to the shelf. 
 "Strange, isn't it, how history repeats itself? 
 You are here without your choosing When I saw 
 you in the midst of these books, it reminded me of 
 Ezekiel. When Nebuchadnezzar overran the 
 country of the Jews and captured Jerusalem, he
 
 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 129 
 
 carried away many of the people into captivity. 
 Among these exiles was the author of this vol- 
 ume. He was a learned man, a man of means and 
 ability, and was let to live in his own house. Many 
 of the captives came to him for encouragement. 
 They were homesick, as you have been, and some 
 of them gave expression to their longings and as- 
 pirations in some of the finest songs and hymns 
 
 that have ever been written. Listen to this " 
 
 and the monk read impressively: 
 
 " ' By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat 
 down, yea, we wept, when we remembered 
 Zion.' 
 
 " You see, my son," the monk remarked, as he 
 concluded the reading, " it is out of just such ex- 
 periences as these that the great things in life and 
 literature have arisen. I can see Ezekiel collect- 
 ing and arranging these songs. We know he did 
 this, for they were subsequently sung in the serv- 
 ices of the temple. Along with the songs, he gath- 
 ered the stories of their patriots, the traditions of 
 their heroes, the precepts of their fathers, the laws 
 of Moses, the symbolical teachings of the temple 
 ritual, the liturgies of the priests, the appeals of the 
 prophets, the records of the historians, and when 
 the exile read them, they stayed his heart. This 
 gave him the historical perspective, the right view- 
 point. He saw the meaning of his past. A new 
 zest inspired him, a new hope possessed him, and
 
 130 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTOK 
 
 when he returned to Jerusalem with his fellows, 
 he continued to sing these songs, and to read with 
 a new and a larger meaning the laws of Moses, 
 and the appeals of the prophets. These writings 
 became his sacred heritage. This was the litera- 
 ture they read in the synagogues. This was the 
 food on which they reared their children. This 
 was their Bible. They saw in it the hand of God. 
 To-day we call it the Old Testament." 
 
 " Interesting! " Ouinn exclaimed. 
 
 !< You must read it as Ezekiel and the people of 
 Israel did, in the light of its historical formation," 
 the monk continued. " You must get back to the 
 spirit of the times out of which it came, the experi- 
 ences and the places where the various parts orig- 
 inated, the history that is interwoven in the record, 
 the men who were the authors." 
 
 " But that is what we have not been doing," 
 Ouinn replied. " As I understand it, a council of 
 men arranged certain books and called them the 
 Old Testament. Why couldn't a council, equally 
 reverent and learned, give us an arrangement that 
 would eliminate what isn't essential to us to-day, 
 and leave in the things that make for our spiritual 
 life and minister to our present religious needs?" 
 
 " I remember my own questions about these 
 things when I was your age," the monk replied. 
 " I was greatly troubled about them. I wanted a 
 guide, but like yourself, I lost myself in the thick- 
 ets. Then one day I read ' Man doth not live by
 
 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 131 
 
 bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out 
 of the mouth of the Lord/ I paused and read 
 again ' by every word that proceedeth out of the 
 mouth of the Lord doth man live.' What are the 
 words that proceed out of the mouth of the Lord, 
 I asked myself. I began to write them down as 
 they occurred to me righteousness, honour, vir- 
 tue, forgiveness, patience, fraternity, love, trust. 
 These, I said, are the things by which men live! 
 Everything that helps me to make them vital to 
 me and makes them a part of my life is the voice 
 of God to me, and anything that lessens their hold 
 upon my life, I will put aside. You suggested that 
 we ask a company of scholars to eliminate those 
 things that are only of passing interest. I would 
 leave that task to the common people. I would ask 
 them what portions of the Old Testament they 
 read, and why? There is many a chapter which 
 nobody reads because it is not helpful, and many 
 another which people read and reread again and 
 again because it is the bread of life to their souls." 
 Reaching across the table, the monk took up a 
 piece of parchment and, without speaking, began 
 to trace upon it the outline of a college campus. 
 Turning te Ouinn, he said, " This is a diagram of 
 my old quadrangle. X shows the place of some of 
 the buildings as I remember them. Now let us 
 suppose that we were going to put these buildings 
 to new or different uses. This " pointing to an 
 X on the diagram, "is Memorial Hall. On the
 
 132 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 walls of its rooms are portraits of those who made 
 the olden times splendid. Here is Abraham, with 
 whom God made a covenant; and Jacob, the 
 founder of a nation; and Joseph, who, through 
 suffering, grew great; and Moses, the liberator of 
 his people; and Joshua, who led them into the 
 Land of Promise ; and Saul, first king of a mighty 
 monarchy; and Jeroboam, leading the Ten Tribes 
 in a disastrous revolt; and Ezekiel, rallying the 
 people in a return to their native land after seventy 
 years of exile ; and Nehemiah, who led in the work 
 of restoration and the rebuilding of the temple; 
 and Ezra, who rediscovered the long-lost book of 
 the laws ; and others equally worthy. 
 
 " The records of their deeds is put down in a 
 series of books that make up a very extensive 
 library. 
 
 " Leaving this building, we come to another," 
 and the monk indicated a second X. " This is the 
 building of Dramatic Art. Here a great drama is 
 being given. The curtain rises upon a scene of 
 peace. The children of Job have come together 
 to celebrate a birthday. Suddenly the sky darkens 
 as a storm sweeps over the earth. In a stroke, the 
 house is swept from its moorings and the children 
 perish. Thus bereaved, Job is left standing alone. 
 A messenger rushes in to say that a company of 
 thieves from across the border have carried away 
 the flocks and the land has been despoiled. 
 Broken in health, impoverished, desolate, Job is
 
 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 133 
 
 now chided by three old friends who insist that the 
 calamity is due to some secret sin. ' The venge- 
 ance of God has overtaken a wrong-doer/ they 
 say. Together, they discuss such questions as 
 ' Why does a righteous God allow suffering to 
 come upon a good man ? ' Through it all, Job 
 maintains his faith in God, and in the end is 
 restored to health and power. The text of the 
 drama is preserved in what is known as the Book 
 of Job. 
 
 " The next is the Hall of Music. Here is a 
 leader of men. As a boy, he was a shepherd. 
 Now he is the Singer of Songs ! David ! He com- 
 mands a host ! At his word, four thousand voices 
 blend in symphony. Softly, and in rhythmic 
 peacefulness, they chant: 
 
 " ' The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want.' 
 
 They are called the Book of Psalms. 
 
 " Now," said the monk, " we come to this plain 
 building," indicating the fourth X on the diagram. 
 " It is the School of Commerce. Here is Solomon. 
 Out of his own experience, he has gathered for us 
 the words of wisdom of the marts. These are pre- 
 served in a book called the Book of Proverbs. 
 
 " Now to the chapel ! Here, preachers hold 
 their high discourse. The volumes in which these 
 addresses are preserved are called Ruth, Esther 
 and Ecclesiastes. 
 
 " Leaving the chapel and stairs, we come to the
 
 134 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 Place of Stars. Here are the seers. Isaiah pro- 
 claims the majesty of God. In the Heavens, Jere- 
 miah sees the rise of a greater king ! Ezekiel reads 
 the new order that follows God's commands. 
 Daniel shows the destiny of Empires. These 
 books are called the Books of the Prophets. 
 
 " The other day," the monk continued, " you 
 asked me about this enchanted island, to know 
 w r here you were. 
 
 " This, my son, is the Island of Patmos. This 
 is St. John Monastery. To this place, the Be- 
 loved Disciple was banished. Here, mark you, 
 John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, was seen. 
 Here, was his vision of the City from Heaven, 
 lighted with the presence of God, the abode for 
 His happy people. 
 
 " John was the last of the Apostles," the monk 
 continued. " In his latter days, he told the story 
 of his life with our Master. These sayings were 
 heard and recorded by the men who heard him. 
 So also wrote Matthew, Mark and Luke. Peter 
 and Paul and others wrote letters telling their ex- 
 periences and the truths the Master taught. These 
 writings were prized by those who had them. 
 They were exchanged by groups of Christians to 
 whom they were written, and read when they came 
 together to worship." 
 
 The monk now seated himself at the table, and 
 taking up the parchment on which he had drawn 
 the quadrangle, said, "We must finish our pilgrim-
 
 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 135 
 
 age. Here stands the Palace of Art. Here are 
 four great artists at work. Matthew portrays his 
 Master the Messiah of the Jews: to Mark, He is 
 the Man of Action: Luke knows Him as Friend 
 and Teacher: John paints Him as Reason; for the 
 background we have the gleaming threshold of 
 eternity. Each artist supplements the other. 
 These teachings of the Master are the Gospels. 
 
 " Here is the Hall of Epistles the Correspond- 
 ence School. From this building, letters are sent 
 to the various groups who believed. 
 
 " And this building," said the monk, pointing to 
 an X, " is the Hall where degrees are conferred. 
 These fall in an unusual manner; to one, for 
 draught of Love in the name of the Master; to 
 another, the honour is given with the words ' In- 
 asmuch as ye did it unto the least of these ' ; while 
 still another receives his award with * Thou hast 
 been faithful.' 
 
 " You see," the monk added, " the Bible is not 
 a book, but a collection. And it is pitiful to think 
 how little people know of this greatest collection 
 of books the world has ever known. It is real! 
 Its teachings fit our need! Never will they lose 
 their hold on the heart and brain of men. And 
 for all the world of men may write and say from 
 now to eternity, never will a clearer revelation of 
 duty be given it than lives in the words * Thou 
 shalt love the Lord thy God, with all thy heart, 
 and thy neighbour as thyself/ ' For God so loved
 
 136 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 the world that He gave His only begotten Son 
 that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish 
 but have everlasting life,' * Come unto me all ye 
 that labour and are heavy laden and I will give 
 you rest; take my yoke upon you and learn of me, 
 for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find 
 rest unto your souls.' ' 
 
 Quinn started. " When is a man a Christian? " 
 he asked in impulse no longer to be controlled. 
 
 " When he turns to Christ," explained the 
 monk. " When he feels, in his being, a desire to 
 do his best. When he knows that the world goes 
 from him in a dream of horror, if he does not find 
 himself. When a wish for brotherhood assails 
 him and will not be put down. When oneness with 
 the spirit of God, which is Christ, will satisfy him 
 and nothing else, then he is ready to become a 
 Christian." 
 
 Thus, far into the night, Quinn and the monk 
 talked. There was no hesitation, no embarrass- 
 ment. Quinn remembered to have longed for an 
 opportunity to speak with some one, and when the 
 monk arose to go to his room and said, " You 
 have still to see the most wonderful thing on our 
 island," Quinn thrilled. " Yes," the monk replied, 
 in answer to Quinn's inquiring look, " I will show 
 it to you and tell you about it, but now I bid you 
 good-night, my son." 
 
 " Good-night," Quinn answered, the spell of the 
 monk's spirit still upon him.
 
 ' XII 
 A CAMP FORUM 
 
 ONCE a week Creighton conducted an open 
 forum. The men assembled in a large 
 hut that was used as a recreation room. 
 At one end, beside the fireplace, was a piano, and 
 from the other end of the hut a moving picture 
 machine threw pictures on the screen that was 
 strung across the back of the stage. Along the 
 sides of the room and around the fireplace were 
 tables with books and writing materials. Just 
 above the stage were the words: 
 
 OUR SLOGAN 
 
 For Human Welfare 
 
 Where Patriots, Freeman, Brothers Meet 
 Count Me One 
 
 No gathering of the men was more popular or 
 more largely attended than the forum. Generally 
 a good movie reel was run through. This was 
 followed with a " sing," in which the words of 
 popular songs were thrown upon the screen. 
 Sometimes an outside speaker was brought in to 
 speak twenty minutes, then in the open meeting 
 that followed, the men spoke and asked questions. 
 There were many well-informed men in the camp, 
 
 137
 
 138 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 and any speaker who dealt in generalities without 
 having facts to verify his statements was sure to 
 get himself into trouble. 
 
 One evening as the men came into the hut, they 
 were given a slip of paper on which three ques- 
 tions had been printed. " These questions," said 
 the folder, " will form the basis ol the evening's 
 discussion." The questions were: 
 
 " 1. What do you most want? 
 
 2. What is the cause of the tragedy 
 
 of life? 
 
 3. Who is educated?" 
 
 " All right, men," said Creighton, after the pre- 
 liminaries were over. " What interest, if any, 
 have we in these questions? How do they affect 
 us? A matter comes to be a very big matter if it 
 is your matter. When things touch us, they be- 
 come important. Your wedding day, if you ever 
 had one, was a circumstance worth talking about. 
 Your birthday is a big day in the calendar. Let 
 us take up the questions in order. ' What do you 
 most want ? ' 
 
 " Money," answered one of the men. 
 
 " Health," replied another. 
 
 " I want to be happy," said a third. 
 
 " Success," responded a fourth. 
 
 " Power," said another. 
 
 " Some men want office, and honour," still an- 
 other said.
 
 A CAI\IP FORUM 139 
 
 " Let us gather the answers together," said 
 Creighton, after a pause. " Men want to be happy, 
 and they think that health, wealth, honour, office, 
 or power will make them happy. But the thing 
 that would make one man happy, the other doesn't 
 want. Every man must get the thing he wants, 
 and he must get it when he wants it, and in the 
 right way. This, he calls success because he thinks 
 it will make him happy. Would it be true to say 
 that success is the product of success methods, and 
 that failure is the result of failure methods, and 
 that success means not simply getting things, 
 but real success means keeping yourself in- 
 spired ? 
 
 " There are some men whom no one can get 
 along with; they sulk. There are some men with 
 whom a few people can get along; these get along 
 with them because they cater to their whims. 
 Then there are some men with whom everybody 
 can get along ; they can go the whole circle of class, 
 creed, and nationality; these are the masters, the 
 leaders of men. A man must be as big as the thing 
 he wants. The point of attraction must be 
 stronger than the thing attracted. 
 
 " Second question: " Creighton exclaimed. 
 "'What is it that causes the tragedy of life?' 
 This question, I take it, does not refer to the 
 troubles that bad men get themselves into. It re- 
 fers rather to the friction, the sorrow, the disap- 
 pointments, that come into the lives of just such
 
 140 VINDICATION OF EOBEKT CKEIGHTON 
 
 men as we are. What is it that causes this trag- 
 edy?" 
 
 " Not getting a square deal," shouted one of 
 the men from the rear. 
 
 " Ignorance," said another. 
 
 " Misfits," replied a third. 
 
 " Poverty," exclaimed a fourth. 
 
 " Oppression," said a man with a loud voice. 
 
 " I do not know how it is with you," Creighton 
 said, filling in a pause, " but my observations lead 
 me to conclude that most of the tragedy of life 
 comes from what one of our friends has called 
 ' misfits.' A square peg in a round hole, a round 
 peg in a square hole. A man doing something for 
 which he is not fitted, spending his days on a job 
 in which he has no interest, working at a thing 
 that doesn't capture his imagination, going through 
 the day in a wooden way, dead on his feet, on a 
 job that doesn't get him. 
 
 " Here's a man, for example, who loves out- 
 of-doors work. He is a rancher. He loves to get 
 up at four in the morning and go out and milk 
 thirty or forty cows before breakfast." 
 
 " Hooray ! " interrupted a sturdy young fellow. 
 "That's me!" 
 
 " He knows how to rotate crops," Creighton 
 continued, without heeding the interruption, " he 
 analyzes the mineral elements of the soil, he likes 
 to see things grow, he fits into his job, and he is 
 happy. But you men in the drafting room would
 
 A CAMP FOKUM 141 
 
 starve to death on a farm, and the farmer would 
 feel like a sardine in a box in your department. 
 The photographer who is taking the pictures of 
 our work for a movie reel belongs to an entirely 
 different class. He sees the beauty of the scenery 
 that is back of the practical work we are doing, 
 and the pictures will entertain and inform those 
 who see them. 
 
 " Get the thing that fills your heart, then go to 
 it, then stay by it, and there won't be much trouble. 
 When you find a man who enjoys his work, you 
 will always find a happy man. He doesn't want 
 the other man's job, nor the other man's pay, nor 
 the other man's pull, nor the other man's any- 
 thing. 
 
 "Third question: 'Who is educated?' All 
 right, men, what about it? Is the human mind 
 averse to learning? Are people anxious to know? 
 Have men a desire for knowledge ? Who is edu- 
 cated?" 
 
 ' The man who has the facts," answered one. 
 
 ' The man who can tell what he knows," replied 
 another. 
 
 " The man who has travelled," said a third. 
 
 " The man who has a diploma," replied a 
 fourth. 
 
 " The man who knows men," said the 
 next. 
 
 " The man who can think a thing out for him- 
 self."
 
 142 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 Thus, the replies came from every part of the 
 hut. 
 
 " Let us gather the replies together and see what 
 we have," said Creighton. " ' Education/ it has 
 been said, ' is the process of making up the dis- 
 crepancy between the child at his birth and the 
 man as he will need to be.' How are you going to 
 make up that discrepancy? Did your school days 
 doit?" 
 
 " No! No! " shouted several of the men in uni- 
 son. 
 
 " The trouble with my school days, as I recall 
 them, was the forced, unnatural order of things. 
 I was restless, impatient and indifferent before the 
 work began. The very thought of school made me 
 rebellious. The majority of children in our cities 
 haven't an idea, for example, where the food they 
 eat comes from. People in cities live from cans; 
 their chief tool is the can-opener. These children 
 should be given some practical education. They 
 ought to be taught to be producers. 
 
 " When the average man thinks of culture, he 
 thinks of something impractical. Of course he is 
 wrong, and yet he is justified in thinking of cul- 
 ture in that way because many so-called cultured 
 people are ignorant of the practical concerns of 
 life. Culture is the thing which, if a man thinks he 
 has it, he hasn't! If a man has travelled, met peo- 
 ple, read books, and reflected, he is cultured. Cul- 
 ture is self -improvement!
 
 A CAMP FOKUH 143 
 
 " One of the men said that ' a man who had a 
 diploma was educated.' If a man has a diploma or 
 a degree from an accredited institution, it means 
 that he has done a certain amount of work reason- 
 ably well. But we might as well be honest about 
 it, for everybody knows it's true. There are thou- 
 sands of men all over our country who have di- 
 plomas, and if their diplomas were written as they 
 should be, they would read ' This is a receipt for 
 a four years' board bill which his father paid for 
 him while he was away from home.' Such men 
 are not fitted for anything. They lack determina- 
 tion. 
 
 " Education means the ability to dig, and they 
 can't dig. If you want the facts, you have to dig 
 for them. If you want a vocabulary, you have to 
 dig for it. If you want a good name, you have to 
 dig for it. If you want anything that makes life 
 self-respecting, you must dig for it. We're use- 
 ful or useless, liked or disliked, just as we dig for 
 ourselves. I call that glorious ! 
 
 " Education means getting at the truth. Truth 
 is right relationship. Get the right relationship to 
 fire, and it will warm you and cook your food ; get 
 the wrong relationship to fire and it will burn you. 
 Get the right relationship to water and it will 
 cleanse you and quench your thirst ; get the wrong 
 relationship to water and it will drown you. Get 
 the right relationship to electricity and it will 
 change your darkness into daylight, send your car
 
 144 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 spinning across the country, and turn the wheels 
 of commerce; get the wrong relationship to elec- 
 tricity, it will kill you. 
 
 " Now for the forum," said Creighton. " What 
 have you to say ? " 
 
 " I like your talk, Mr. Creighton," said a man 
 as he stepped to the platform. " I like the way 
 you sum things up. You didn't talk down to us, 
 and you didn't hand us any sob stuff, but it seems 
 to me that you didn't go far enough. It's a crime 
 in a day like this to look back, and it's common- 
 place to stand still. We've got to go forward. 
 We've got to shake off the yoke of economic 
 bondage, break through the narrow limits of con- 
 ventionality, and tear away the bands of supersti- 
 tion with which the spirit of man is being bound. 
 Think of the poor devils in the cities! What do 
 they get out of life? I don't care if it is their 
 fault: they're not bad, they're just weak, and any- 
 way, they're human beings. Think of the children 
 shivering on the edge of want, living like second- 
 hand junk peddlers. It's a miserable existence, I 
 tell you. Do you call that a democracy ? " 
 
 " I'm not ready to answer the question of our 
 friend," said one of the men, coming forward. 
 " People are learning, not from books, nor from 
 the politicians, but from their own experience, that 
 there must be a new accounting of the means of 
 production and distribution. We've got to make a 
 new definition of what we mean by ' capital.' Up
 
 A CAMP FOEUM 145 
 
 to now, wealth used to assist in production Is called 
 capital; money employed in trade is called capital. 
 But ability to work is also capital ; personal power 
 is capital. Up to the present time, great organi- 
 zations have controlled the output and the distri- 
 bution of the means of life. These organizations 
 must be taken out of the hands of the few, and 
 placed in the hands of the government, to admin- 
 ister them for the good of the whole population. 
 We wouldn't think of turning over to a private 
 corporation a contract to manufacture the postage 
 stamps and the post-cards that are used in the post- 
 office department. We would never think of let- 
 ting a private corporation print our greenbacks, 
 nor mint our gold and silver and copper money. 
 The government coins the money, prints the 
 stamps and the post-cards, and controls the delivery 
 of the mail. Because of this, we can send a letter 
 anywhere in the United States for two cents. 
 How much do you think it would cost to send that 
 same letter if it were carried by a private corpora- 
 tion? 
 
 " Now, if it is a good thing to have the govern- 
 ment deliver the letters, why isn't it an equally 
 good thing to have the government deliver the 
 telegrams ? And why isn't it a good thing to have 
 the telephone exchange and the telegraph office in 
 the same building with the post-office, and under 
 one management? They are all common carriers, 
 and if it is a good thing to have one under govern-
 
 146 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CRP^IGHTON 
 
 ment control, why isn't it an equally good thing to 
 have them all under government control? The 
 reason why they are not under government control 
 isn't a good reason. The coal under the ground is 
 locked-up sunlight ; we take it out and burn it, we 
 release the sunlight and keep comfortable. There 
 is no more reason why the sunlight under the 
 ground should be controlled by a private corpora- 
 tion than that the sunlight that comes with the 
 dawn should be in the hands of a private cor- 
 poration. If some men had their way, they would 
 put a meter on every sunbeam that strikes the 
 earth, and charge you for it. We now have the 
 rural free delivery. Why can't the parcel post 
 handle all of the express business just as well as 
 fifty per cent, of it? There are eight trunk lines 
 crossing the country, all of them common carriers ; 
 it is possible for these eight lines to be managed 
 far better under one control than under the pres- 
 ent competitive system. Why not have a Secre- 
 tary of Railroads and Transportation in the Presi- 
 dent's cabinet? Oh, I know you're saying it can't 
 be done. If any man tells you it can't be done, 
 ask him who built the railroad in Alaska, ask him 
 who put through the biggest engineering project 
 on this planet. Uncle Sam put his foot on a spade 
 and dug the Panama Canal ; he spent four hundred 
 millions of dollars, without a penny of graft or a 
 whisper of scandal. You ask what men most 
 want? This is what they want."
 
 A CAMP FOEUM 147 
 
 As the speaker took his seat, a man known 
 throughout the camp as " the Judge," came to the 
 platform. After the applause had subsided, he 
 said: 
 
 " The gentleman who has just spoken made a 
 very fine plea for government control. He wants 
 the seats cushioned, the springs oiled, shock ab- 
 sorbers, the tires inflated, the roads macadamized, 
 and when this is done he will want predigested 
 food, ask the government to take care of us, and 
 the result of that kind of paternalism will be a 
 banana civilization without pep or individual in- 
 itiative. I hate to see intelligent men doing all 
 they can to put a premium on mediocrity. It isn't 
 honest. It's like comparing the desire to grow 
 rich with the enterprise of picking a man's pocket. 
 The state has always been the instrument of rob- 
 bery, the organ of oppression. That is why gov- 
 ernments are mistrusted and rulers hated. We 
 have in our country a rough-hewn idealism. It 
 is the incentive to every man to do his best. This 
 joy of putting the thing over and the assurance 
 of a substantial reward for successful achievement 
 has been our salvation ; it has made us great. 
 
 " Our friend talks about cooperation, but as he 
 conceives it, it is all ' co ' and no ' operation.' In 
 a democracy, a man is limited only by his native 
 ability and his willingness to work. Take away 
 the just rewards of personal ability and individual 
 effort, and you cut the nerve of all endeavour and
 
 148 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 initiative. It is better to have a government 
 chosen by all the people to execute their wishes, 
 and thus set the individual free to make the most 
 of himself, while all work together to realize the 
 common ideals of a cooperative brotherhood." 
 
 Long before he reached the platform, the next 
 man began by saying: 
 
 " I have seen a bunch of newsboys huddled to- 
 gether over the grate above the boiler room, their 
 arms and legs intertwined like a pile of angle- 
 worms. I have seen girls at work in an overall 
 factory, making three blouses a day and earning 
 forty-five cents. I have seen mines explode with 
 astonishing regularity. But I read the speeches of 
 some of our great orators, and it is all milk and 
 honey and wine and wind; there is no hint or al- 
 lusion that there is grief or poverty anywhere. 
 Now, no man can consider these things without 
 recognizing the truth of the terrible indictment 
 that can be brought against the economic situation 
 that exists in our land, and for that matter, all 
 over the world." 
 
 The man concluded his speech as abruptly as 
 he had begun. Some moments elapsed before an- 
 other one of the men volunteered to take up the 
 discussion. Presently a man by the name of Me- 
 thune walked slowly down the aisle. He was 
 known throughout the camp as the man who could 
 cut trees as clean as a beaver, throw his tree over 
 the stump in any direction he chose; and because
 
 A CAMP FORUM 149 
 
 he " delivered the goods," commanded respect 
 from all the men. 
 
 "I'm not so sure that I can tell you what is in 
 my mind," he said. " When I went to school as 
 a boy, I had no interest whatever in my studies. 
 When I came West and located a government 
 claim, I couldn't figure how much lumber it would 
 take to fence in an acre of ground or build a corn 
 crib. I didn't know what kind of farm crops went 
 with different kinds of stock. I could not, in any 
 way, relate the studies of my school days to my 
 work on the farm. I had to begin all over again. 
 But I can't see why we should think of the uni- 
 verse as being exhausted. We common people are 
 not degenerates. Deep down in our hearts, below 
 our surface differences, every man believes in the 
 great ideals of liberty, justice, fraternity and 
 equality. All that we want, all that we insist upon 
 is that the claims of the individual shall be put 
 above the rights of property. You ask, who is 
 educated ? I'll tell you. Any man who can make 
 us see the high destiny to which we are called, and 
 who can point out that destiny so clearly that all 
 men will see it and be willing to push their inter- 
 ests to make that destiny more than a dream, that 
 man is educated, and as for the rest of us, we are 
 ready to go to school to him." 
 
 " Something has been said," remarked a man, 
 coming to the platform, " about working on a 
 job that gets you and going after the thing that
 
 160 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 fills your heart. That's a good idea, only it won't 
 work. In every job, there are a lot of things that 
 simply have to be done which do not capture one's 
 imagination. I suppose the average woman 
 doesn't just bubble over with enthusiasm in wash- 
 ing dishes three times a day: nevertheless, she does 
 it because it is a necessary part of home life. The 
 sewers of the world have to be dug: but I don't 
 suppose that it is all poetry to the men who do the 
 work. The fact is that the man who never does 
 anything he doesn't like, never likes anything he 
 does." 
 
 " And another thing was said," remarked a tall, 
 well-built man with an intelligent face, " that lis- 
 tens good, but, as my friend Cornell has just said, 
 * it won't work.' The statement has been made 
 that a man can do anything he wants to do if he 
 works according to the laws of success, the infer- 
 ence being that if a man only puts energy enough 
 into the thing he undertakes, the returns will be 
 unlimited. That is true only up to a certain point, 
 and if we are not careful, we are going to get in 
 wrong. Let me show you what I mean. If you 
 sow a half bushel of wheat to the acre, you will 
 reap five bushels ; if you sow one bushel of wheat 
 to the acre, you will reap ten bushels; if you sow 
 two bushels of wheat to the acre, you will reap 
 twenty bushels; but it does not follow that if you 
 sow four bushels of wheat to the acre, you will 
 reap forty bushels; and it's a sure thing that if you
 
 A CAMP FOEUM 151 
 
 sow twenty bushels of wheat to the acre, you will 
 get no harvest at all. 
 
 " I am an engineer. I know that if you burn 
 five tons of coal you can get thirty miles an hour 
 out of your engine, but it isn't sure that by burn- 
 ing ten tons you'll get sixty miles an hour out of 
 her. Up to a certain point, the returns increase in 
 proportion to the amount of energy and materials 
 that you put into your enterprise, but at a certain 
 point you meet a condition in which the returns 
 begin to diminish. You work according to what 
 is called the law of proportionate increase, and 
 also the law of diminishing returns. 
 
 " We are putting more into life in every line 
 than men did fifty years ago, but I am not so sure 
 that the output is correspondingly great. We are 
 wearing better clothes; we are eating more ex- 
 pensive food; but men are dying, notwithstanding 
 all this. The houses we live in cost more, the 
 rooms are larger, better equipped ; but I am not so 
 sure that we have happier homes, and have more 
 of that something that holds the family together 
 than they had in the days of log cabin ventilation. 
 Our school buildings are the finest that have ever 
 been erected, the equipment perfect, and we are 
 constantly adding to the list of studies. Modern 
 education costs more, and we are all of us willing 
 that it should ; but are we getting the men and the 
 women whose added efficiency is worth the added 
 cost ? I have ridden in an ox-cart, and in an auto-
 
 152 VINDICATION OP EGBERT CBEIGHTON 
 
 mobile; I have gone over the old corduroy road 
 and the new macadamized boulevard; I have 
 travelled in a prairie schooner, and in the cab of 
 the engine of the Overland Limited, and I know 
 that no system, no equipment will work itself. It 
 has to be worked, and it is team work that counts. 
 We have got to develop that sense of fair-minded- 
 ness that will enable us to work together harmoni- 
 ously. The biggest job we have is to produce the 
 type of man who is fit to stand as a representative 
 of what democracy can be, and what it ought to 
 do. And when all is said and done, you still have 
 to reckon with the most important element of the 
 whole problem, namely the element of human na- 
 ture." 
 
 As the last speaker resumed his seat, the men in 
 the center of the room were compelled to give en- 
 forced attention to an impromptu dialogue be- 
 tween Swen and one of the men. Something had 
 been said that displeased the man; he was growl- 
 ing out his discontent and muttering protests to 
 the effect that the boss was in on the graft with the 
 old gang, and that the men were being kept in line 
 by a lot of bunk. 
 
 Swen was on his feet in an instant. He chal- 
 lenged the man either to prove his statements or 
 eat his words. He had not thought of speaking, 
 but as the men called " Platform ! Platform ! " he 
 bounded to the front and delivered a speech that 
 was a marvellous piece of crude eloquence. He
 
 A CAMP FOEUM 163 
 
 pounded the table with his fists as he upheld the 
 honour of the camp; he ran his fingers through his 
 hair as he declared himself ready to meet all 
 comers in defense of the good name and sincere 
 purposes of the chief. He brought down the 
 house as he exclaimed, " Yu talk about a gude 
 time. Ay ban looking for a gude time just so 
 sharp like those coon fallers vot vait on yu in big 
 hotels look for tips, an ay tel yu it ban rank." His 
 oratory gave life to the pockets of his trousers 
 into which he jammed his fists in imitation of the 
 methods of the lazy rich whom he denounced. 
 " If ve turn gude trick for dese rich loafers ve 
 make for dem plenty vood to cut. If ve ban vise, 
 ve ban taking a flyer into camp of dese har rich 
 guys vat ain't vork, an see how da lak eating beans, 
 an be put on bum an get plenty gude hard raps, 
 an smile for chance tu sveat an freeze." The 
 chairs on the platform moved about as he lifted 
 them from place to place, indicating the changes 
 that ought to come as he exclaimed, "Ay ban up 
 in voods a whole vinter sawing, chopping, freez- 
 ing, sveating, vorking an for vat ! For get grub 
 an saxteen dollar, an be called a gude f aller. Gude 
 fallers ban mostly getting it gude in neck.*' He 
 scoffed at the proffered condescension of women 
 who play at social betterment and " go tu teater an 
 vatch villian slip in true vindow, an vait tu see how 
 it come out, an cry over hard luck uf pepul, an go 
 home an tink how much da do for uplift of hu-
 
 154 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 manity. Piffle ! " he shouted in utter disgust. 
 But everything was tame by comparison when, 
 lifting his finger high above his head, he ex- 
 claimed, "If yu never suffer yourself yu don't 
 know. If yu have suffer yu do know. Vat's 
 use tu talk ! " Swen then resumed his seat, amid 
 great applause. 
 
 It was far and away the most effective speech 
 of the evening. The men sat breathless, as he 
 looked into their eyes and voiced their common 
 hopes, fears and longings. He put into words 
 what they themselves had felt. He reached their 
 hearts because he talked straight out of his inmost 
 soul. 
 
 Beth and Jean who, along with Duke, had been 
 listening, were spellbound. They knew Swen was 
 loyal to Creighton, and when he declared himself 
 ready to defend the chief, as he called Creighton, 
 they vigorously applauded his challenge. But this 
 was not all! There was something back of it that 
 made them wonder and rejoice. These thoughts 
 they shared in common, but not one of them spoke 
 a word. There was a long, profound silence, then 
 a man arose and said: 
 
 " When I was a boy, they told me that public 
 speaking was having something to say, and saying 
 it. On that ground, I have no right to speak. I 
 am glad that we arc having these issues discussed. 
 We haven't reached the solution, but we are on 
 the way. What is needed, as I see it, is not simply
 
 A CAMP FOEUM 155 
 
 a political, but an industrial, an educational, and a 
 spiritual democracy, a democracy of real brother- 
 hood. If that is what we want, then it's up to us 
 to play the game. Star stunts won't do it. Get- 
 ting applause from the bleachers by posing in the 
 spotlight never won a pennant. Some of you men 
 came from New England stock, a good ancestry, 
 none better. But what did your forefathers be- 
 lieve? Less than three hundred years ago, they 
 believed in witchcraft. They believed if a woman 
 was accused of being a witch, she could prove her 
 innocence by walking over hot plates; if she 
 burned her feet, she was guilty. 
 
 " There was a time when men believed in canni- 
 balism. Only sixty years ago in the New Hebri- 
 des Islands, the chief and all of the people of his 
 tribe were cannibals, eating human flesh. 
 
 ' There was a time when men believed in duel- 
 ling, and in the right of every man to carry con- 
 cealed weapons. But they soon found that when 
 a man carried a gun, he carried with him also a 
 disposition to use it on the slightest provocation, 
 and as a result, there is a law in every state which 
 prohibits the carrying of concealed weapons. 
 
 " There was a time when men believed in 
 slavery. Human beings were sold to the highest 
 bidder, just as men to-day buy and sell horses and 
 cattle. Now, try to make yourself believe in witch- 
 craft, or cannibalism, or duelling, or slavery. You 
 can't do it. But our fathers believed in these
 
 156 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 things. Why can't you? Because new factors 
 have been added to the problem, and the sum at 
 the foot of the column is changed. The time is 
 not far distant when, along with witchcraft, can- 
 nibalism, duelling and slavery, men will scrap the 
 old competitive system that is to-day pushing the 
 majority of our people over the brink of misery. 
 We will leave it to the sun and wind to dis- 
 sipate, along with other things that we have out- 
 grown." 
 
 The next speaker was a newcomer. He had 
 but recently arrived and was known to but very 
 few of the men. He was the only sailor in the 
 camp. As he came forward, he at once arrested 
 the attention of the audience. He took his stand 
 in front of the platform, modestly declining to as- 
 cend the steps. Looking first at Creighton, then 
 at the men before him, he said, " I don't know 
 much of what you men have been saying. I've 
 had it put up to me in a different way. Human 
 nature is all there is to it. Any system will work 
 if people are right, and no system will work if peo- 
 ple are wrong. When you've been one hundred 
 and sixty-six days out of sight of land, you're not 
 fit for much of anything on shore. All you see is 
 people, and they look queer. Just being good 
 seems tame. There is only one way to be good, 
 and it's lonesome. There are so many ways in 
 which you can cut loose, and it's more interesting. 
 That's why a sailor on shore leave can raise hell in
 
 A CAMP FOKUM 157 
 
 seven different ways. My last trip was in an old 
 tub. She was so rotten that when a big sea struck 
 us, her seams opened and her royal mast that stood 
 one hundred and eighty feet above water, went 
 down across the wheel house, and splintered it to 
 smithereens. A coaster picked us up. I've been 
 a long time in the hospital. When I came out, all 
 I had was my field-glass; I put that seven-guinea 
 binocular in soak for three bucks ; in two days that 
 was gone. The men that sent the old scow out to 
 sea got insurance on her and the cargo. We got 
 a chance to risk our necks and go broke. One of 
 the men said, ' If you're big enough, you can get 
 along with anybody.' Maybe you can, but as I 
 remember it, even Jesus Christ didn't make a hit 
 with some people. 
 
 " I was weak and hungry. I sat down on the 
 curb to get warm in the sun, and I went to sleep. 
 A cop saw me and thought I was drunk. Just as 
 he was going to run me in, a man came along and 
 said, ' Kid, what's on your mind? ' just as if he 
 had always known me. He sat down alongside of 
 me, slipped me a ten-spot and said, * Get yourself 
 something to eat ; then go up to the camp and I'll 
 see you there.' The cop thought we were pals and 
 beat it. I didn't know his name then, and I just 
 half saw his face, but I'd know his voice among a 
 million in a night as black as doom. 
 
 " This isn't my line. This work don't get me, 
 but I'm getting stronger, and I'll soon be fit. It's
 
 hard to do what you don't want to do and be 
 cheerful about it. But anybody can crab, and a 
 grouch don't get you anywhere. That's why I say 
 human nature is the big thing. Just plain, straight, 
 honest-to-God human nature. 
 
 " I've met men who pretended to be more re- 
 ligious than they were hypocrites. And I've met 
 men who talked as if they didn't believe in God or 
 anything, until they got in a hole. I know that 
 old stuff. When the chief gave me a lift and a 
 
 job " and the sailor paused and looked at 
 
 Creighton ; there was a break in his voice. " When 
 the chief gave me a lift and a job," he continued, 
 " I put it up to the Almighty to make me big 
 enough to come through." 
 
 As the sailor concluded, a hush fell upon the 
 audience. It had been a great hour and it had 
 taken an unexpected turn in the tribute the sailor 
 had paid the chief. The men joined in singing 
 "America," as was their custom, then quietly dis- 
 banded. 
 
 After the meeting had adjourned, Jean re- 
 mained at the piano where she had played the ac- 
 companiment for the song. The sailor's story had 
 moved her gently. As she lifted her eyes, she 
 saw him standing beside the fireplace, and she 
 heard one of the men ask, " What was the name 
 of that boat you were telling us about ? " 
 
 " The Norman," she heard the sailor reply. " It 
 was a rotten deal. She wasn't fit to go to sea.
 
 A CAMP FOKUM 169 
 
 But Captain Knight played the game on the square. 
 He stayed aboard and went down." 
 
 At the mention of the word "Norman " it 
 seemed to Jean that her heart stopped. She 
 seemed to be slipping away into unconsciousness. 
 Here was a man who had sailed with Quinn, and 
 who could tell her about him. 
 
 " Did I know him ! " the sailor repeated in an- 
 swer to her eager inquiry. " I should say yes ! 
 Look at this ! " and he held up his right hand and 
 disclosed a scar that ran across the wrist and up 
 on the thumb. " Got caught in a pulley. Some 
 doctors would have cut the hand off, but he saved 
 it for me, and it's as good as ever. I owe that 
 good right hand to him; it's a neat job, isn't it? 
 The last time I saw him, he was on the bridge 
 with the Captain. And say ! 
 
 " Did you know him ? " the sailor asked, turning 
 to Jean. "If you did well, I'll just say this 
 he was on the level ! "
 
 XIII 
 
 A MASTERPIECE 
 
 THE influence of the monk increased for 
 Quinn with the passing days. His can- 
 dour, modesty, well-balanced judgment, 
 learning and the gentleness of his spirit made him 
 a rare companion. The monk's attitude of in- 
 structing him as if he were a comparatively igno- 
 rant, but promising student Quinn easily for- 
 gave; the familiar facts were stated from a 
 view-point quite unusual, and with a philosophy 
 that was bracing and binding! With the other 
 dwellers of the monastery, however, Quinn had 
 little in common ; of late, he shunned them. " I 
 don't like the way they use their time," he re- 
 marked to his friend, as he watched a procession 
 of the monks. " They may be holy, but they are 
 not human. The record says that children loved 
 Jesus. I can't imagine a happy child in such com- 
 pany as this! Lord! If I could organize a root- 
 er's club, I'd give five years of my life to be their 
 yell-leader!" Involuntarily, Quinn closed his fists. 
 In imagination, the bleachers rose before him, and 
 he seemed once more ready to lead the yell. 
 
 "A rooter's club is a good thing, my son," the 
 1 60
 
 A MASTERPIECE 161 
 
 monk replied, " but with the best of intentions, a 
 man can't stay in early youth forever. In due 
 time, in spite of him, he graduates. It is good to 
 have been young in youth, but it is good, as well, to 
 grow older. With the years, our affections 
 grounded in experience guide us even better than 
 we know. As I see it, it makes little difference 
 whether a man applauds or approves in silence ; the 
 chief thing is to maintain an interest in the things 
 that keep us young, and are worthy of our ef- 
 forts." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that the only alterna- 
 tive of a rooter's club is a monastery ! " Quinn 
 laughed. "They are dying for a shout; they've 
 forgotten the muscles in their throats ! " 
 
 " No, my son, life isn't a monastery or a club, 
 but there is such a thing as artistic and spiritual 
 contact as well as social and athletic ! You your- 
 self have an equal fondness for a scalpel and a 
 dictionary. Dante, the greatest poet of the middle 
 ages, was no inmate of a monastery, but he tells us 
 that he spent his years on the stairs of others, eat- 
 ing bread savoured with tears. During his time of 
 wandering, he visited monasteries. There he met 
 the choice spirits of his time. With the monks he 
 discussed theology and philosophy. He is gener- 
 ally admitted to have been the best informed man 
 of his day. It was Dante, the poet not a king or 
 a general who led the world out of the torpor of 
 the middle ages. But why tell a linguist all this?.
 
 162 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CKEIGHTON 
 
 " You see, my son," he said, stroking a volume 
 which he held in his hand, " the outward garb of 
 civilization changes, but the universal elements, the 
 things that are the property of no age or country, 
 these abide. A few books live and endure will 
 live and endure, because they possess a potency ! A 
 potency that thrilled the reader of bygone centuries 
 and thrills him to the heart again to-day. To 
 spend an hour with a great soul that has meditated, 
 and felt the wonder of life, experienced the throb- 
 bings of the human heart; to behold him coming 
 up out of the valley of shadows with the light of 
 other worlds falling across his countenance, and to 
 listen to him as he fearlessly shakes out his heart ; 
 that, my son, is an experience not to be exchanged 
 for anything else in the whole round world. I 
 have spent many a happy hour reading my Dante," 
 said the monk, and he opened his copy of the Di- 
 vine Comedy. 
 
 " Often as I have turned the pages, pondering 
 his noble speech, filling my mind with his words 
 of wisdom and beauty, reading over and over 
 again his lines of comfort, I seemed to thrill with 
 longing. I shall hunt for him, my son, in Para- 
 dise, and for his goodness thank him from my 
 heart!" 
 
 " I always think of the Divine Comedy as one 
 of the books which everybody praises and nobody 
 reads," Quinn replied. " Dabbling in languages 
 as I do, I have found it an interesting collection
 
 A MASTEEPIECE 163 
 
 of words, and in these I've not gone beyond the 
 first book, but of course, he would be a brave man 
 who would find fault with it, even if he wanted 
 to!" 
 
 The monk smiled, as was his custom when lis- 
 tening to Ouinn's answers. " Come with me into 
 the gallery," he said. " One of our Brothers has 
 illustrated Dante's poem in a series of paintings. 
 I want you to see them," and the monk led the 
 Way into a narrow room back of the chapel. It 
 was lighted from above ; the walls were lined with 
 the paintings. Seated in the center of the room, 
 the monk pointed to a portrait and said, " That, 
 my son, is a portrait of Virgil. Ta Dante, Virgil, 
 you will know, represented the authority of Im- 
 perial Rome. In his poem, he pictures himself as 
 lost in a forest; Virgil comes to his rescue and 
 tells Dante that Beatrice in Heaven cares for him 
 and, at her wish, he has come to guide him to the 
 heights ; but first, he must look back on the results 
 of sin. They pass through a gloomy forest, cross 
 a river, and find themselves at the rim of a crater 
 that extends in nine great circles to the center of 
 the earth. Through these they journey together. 
 In this entire Inferno, evil reigns. Its sounds are 
 all of woe. 
 
 "As they emerge, Virgil leads Dante to an 
 Island of Seven Terraces. The way from one 
 ledge to another is difficult, and the path so nar- 
 row they must journey up alone. Dante is so ex-
 
 164 VINDICATION OF EOBEKT CEEIGHTON 
 
 hausted that he falters. But on each ledge an 
 angel meets him and brushes a letter from his fore- 
 head. It is the symbol of the deadly sins of which 
 they who scale the mountain are cleansed. The 
 angel fingers touch his forehead. Each time they 
 hear a distant chant. Here, there is singing. All 
 souls are helpful. They hear the songs of birds 
 and smell sweet flowers. The mountain is called 
 Purgatory. 
 
 " But the best of the poem is the Paradise. In 
 Paradise, those are together, who had, on earth, 
 like sufferings, joys and aspirations, though all are 
 free to journey through the whole realm of the 
 blessed. Here, Virgil leaves and Beatrice takes 
 his place. 
 
 " See the artist's portrait of Beatrice, who 
 guides Dante through the Paradise," cried the 
 monk. " First, they journey to the moon where 
 those souls dwell who have taken vows and have, 
 like the fickle moon, forgotten them. Then they 
 visit Mercury, the Heaven of those who have 
 worked for God. Onward, they go to Venus, 
 where generous souls and patriots abide. Thence, 
 to the sun where are the spirits of philosophers 
 whose teachings enlightened mankind. In Mars 
 are the martyrs and the crusaders who fought and 
 died for their faith. In Jupiter are just judges. 
 In Saturn are the contemplative, with a ladder be- 
 tween Earth and Heaven, but only those who con- 
 template can see it. In the fixed stars are the
 
 A MASTERPIECE 165 
 
 heroes and saints of holy writ. From there, they 
 go to the Heaven of the angelic host. Here is a 
 great white rose, and in its center is the Throne 
 of God." 
 
 "What is your interpretation?'* Quinn inter- 
 posed. 
 
 " Poets, my son," replied the monk, " are like 
 lovers. They say things, they don't mean them. 
 The poem finds him. Wherever he goes, it haunts 
 him, and at last he catches its music and out of his 
 heart comes a song, and he sings it for the joy of 
 singing. The same is true of music. Ask any 
 number of people how a given song affects 
 them. Some will tell you they are thrilled, 
 some are lulled, some shudder, some rejoice; 
 with some, the enjoyment is physical; with 
 others, intellectual; in others, there is awak- 
 ened a sense of exaltation, they are eager to do 
 great deeds, imagination is stimulated, they are 
 lifted into ecstasies, while others feel their teeth 
 on edge, and long to clutch at something. Now, 
 the composer did not say, * This will thrill them ; 
 this will lull them ; this will cause them to shudder ; 
 this will charm them; this will produce an inde- 
 scribable sensation.' We do not ask what is meant 
 by the melody in the song of a bird or the mur- 
 mur in a brook. The way these affect us depends 
 upon ourselves and upon our own experiences. 
 
 " But if you want something with a real mean- 
 ing, here it is," and pointing to a painting, the
 
 166 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 monk said, " This is the artist's picture of the 
 mountain of Purgatory. Look at that company 
 of laggards at the foot. There is one sitting with 
 his back against the wall, his legs drawn up, his 
 arms encircling them, and his chin resting on his 
 knees; every part of his body in repose the em- 
 bodiment of laziness. Climbing requires effort. 
 These are the men who do not wish to climb ; they 
 are satisfied to remain at the foot. There will al- 
 ways be men who might have been rich or learned, 
 or great, but they never rise an inch above the 
 common stature, just for the want of one heroic 
 act of the will." 
 
 " As I think of the story," Ouinn replied, 
 " Dante loved a woman he couldn't marry and 
 married a woman he couldn't love, and then lapsed 
 into the non-poetic state of uncongenial matri- 
 mony, and because his own home was prosy, he 
 made up for it by writing poetry. I grant you 
 that he was a genius. I suppose you would say 
 that's the genius of it." 
 
 " His poem was written as a tribute to the 
 woman he loved," replied the monk. " After the 
 death of Beatrice, he tells us he had a vision. * I 
 saw things,' he says, ' which made me resolve to 
 say no more of this blessed one until I can speak 
 of her worthily/ Since the world has been a 
 worthy dwelling for Beatrice, it is worthy his best 
 endeavour. Beatrice was no mere woman, she 
 was the woman he loved, and he records a vow to
 
 A MASTEEPIECB 167 
 
 write such things of her as had never before been 
 written of any woman since the world began. 
 This was the source of his inspiration during all 
 the years of his wandering, during all the weary 
 days of his tribulation." 
 
 " He was a prior in Florence, wasn't he ? " 
 Ouinn asked. " And exiled for misappropriating 
 the public funds ; Florence lost a good official, but 
 the world gained a singer. That's the idea, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 Again the monk smiled. Then he began pac- 
 ing to and fro. " After Dante became renowned," 
 he said, " they issued a proclamation, inviting him 
 to return to Florence on condition that he do pen- 
 ance and make public confession. But he defied 
 them ; he trampled under foot their overtures, and 
 scornfully rejected their proposals. I can almost 
 
 hear him call " and the monk, with graceful 
 
 gesture and stirring voice, was Dante for the mo- 
 ment, as he exclaimed, " ' No ! No ! This is not 
 the way of my return to my country. If no path 
 leads back to Florence which hurts not fame nor 
 honour, then will I never reach Florence more. 
 Must I make me inglorious and shameful in the 
 eyes of all the people? Can I not gaze upon the 
 sun and stars wherever I am? Can I not ponder 
 on the sweetest of truths wherever I may be under 
 the heavens? Your city is but a lentil seed upon 
 the earth. No! I go not thus to Florence not 
 even for my life.' '
 
 168 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 I 
 
 " Good ! " Ouinn exclaimed. " Fighting for 
 justice ! " 
 
 " Strange, isn't it, my son, that the world's 
 teachers are so often driven into exile, compelled 
 to wander through inhospitable lands? I remem- 
 ber the time when I wanted to endow the poets to 
 free them to produce better and more memorable 
 work. But if this were best, then we ought to 
 find our poets among the rich! On the contrary, 
 they have come from poor circumstances, where 
 mere bread getting is difficult. There is no deny- 
 ing the fact that in proportion as life is easy for 
 the average man, his manhood is retarded. The 
 less need there is for work the more likely is a 
 man to waste his talents. The best way to kill 
 genius is to pension it. Oblivion is the penalty of 
 great wealth." 
 
 " We eulogize poverty in song and speech," said 
 Ouinn, " but the men you speak of were well-to- 
 do. Poverty, in itself, as I see it, is not a thing to 
 be desired. It means limitation. Money means 
 opportunity, travel, comfort, life." 
 
 " So it seems, my son, but when you consider the 
 leaders, you find that they come from the cabin, or 
 the crofter's cottage, from exile, or from the wil- 
 derness. Advantage lies in having no advantage! 
 Success is the prize for fighting a handicap. Bare 
 feet climb up, and polished boots slip down. In 
 the cradle of hardship, and in the school of ad- 
 versity, genius has reared her greatest children. 

 
 A MASTEEPIECE 169 
 
 Think of Moses, the child of a slave; of David, 
 the shepherd; of Peter, the fisherman; of Paul, the 
 tentmaker; of Luther, the miner's son; of Bunyan, 
 the tinker; of Gary, the cobbler; of Livingstone, 
 the weaver ; of Burns, the crofter's child ; of Coper- 
 nicus, the baker's boy; of Shakespeare and Defoe, 
 the sons of butchers; of Munkacsy, who painted 
 ' Christ before Pilate '; of Garfield, the canal boy; 
 of Grant, the tanner; and of Lincoln. Think of 
 the weary line of writers, doctors, lawyers, mer- 
 chants, artisans, so poor that they had to warm 
 their bare feet on that spot in the pasture where 
 the cows had slept ! So penniless they had to walk 
 from farm to city! So great that their souls are 
 the ornaments of history! 
 
 " You see, the simple things are the great things. 
 There are only seven notes in our scale of music, 
 seven strands in the rainbow. Men take these 
 seven notes and weave them into an immortal 
 symphony, they blend the seven strands of the sun- 
 beam into a great painting, they weave the twenty- 
 six letters of the alphabet into an immortal song. 
 But a man cannot always work up to his highest 
 possibilities. You cannot always sing or play or 
 speak or pray the way you sing, play, speak and 
 pray sometimes. To do our best, the mood must 
 be upon us. There are moments in which the 
 great things in life stand out so clearly, blend in 
 such perfect harmony in a poem, a painting, or a 
 melody, that they face you with sublimity. The
 
 170 VINDICATION OF EOBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 greatest tribute that can be given such achievement 
 is the tribute of silence. That is the perfect trib- 
 ute of the human mind that the human heart ex- 
 periences. The test of the masterpiece is its mas- 
 tery of you. It belongs to all ages. It overlaps 
 all boundaries. It is universal in its appeal."
 
 XIV 
 FORCES THAT WIN 
 
 AS the men of the camp passed the hut going 
 to and from the dining-room, they saw 
 the following notice posted on the bulletin 
 board : 
 
 To-night at 8 o'clock 
 
 Dr. Dithmere Speaks. 
 
 Topic: 
 
 "FORCHS THAT WIN" 
 
 It was Creighton's custom to invite men to talk 
 who were specialists in their particular lines. In 
 choosing the speakers, he always conferred with 
 his men. He was immensely popular with them. 
 Was it a piece of strategy on his part to build his 
 influence over them as powerfully as possible? 
 Did he have any lurking terror that his prison ex- 
 perience would some day confront him to his un- 
 doing? Did the thought of Warden Delaney and 
 Fleck spur him on? Hardly that! He was sim- 
 ple and direct. Possibly his observation in prison 
 had deeply impressed him, however, with the fact 
 that there were methods of dealing with men 
 
 171
 
 172 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 methods of putting the best things in their way 
 that would preserve them from going to where he 
 had been. As he came into the hut with Dr. Dith- 
 mere, he was greeted with a round of applause. 
 Without a formal introduction, he announced that 
 Jean would sing; this she did in a way that de- 
 lighted the men and put them in a good mood for 
 the evening's address. 
 
 Then Creighton introduced the speaker. Dr. 
 Dithmere was a man of striking appearance. He 
 was tall, well-built, broad-shouldered ; his hair was 
 silvered, his eyes dark, his countenance radiant, 
 his general demeanour that of quiet, yet cordial 
 dignity. With the first sentence of his address, he 
 was on good terms with his audience. His voice 
 was rich and brilliant with many inflections. He 
 could talk to men. 
 
 " I know what you are thinking about," he said, 
 after the applause had subsided. " I never like to 
 have an audience think that it can fool me. I 
 want you to think with me, for I have no desire to 
 waste the evening in talking at you." 
 
 Then suddenly he exclaimed, " What's the mat- 
 ter with the world, in commerce, statesmanship, 
 education and religion? Men do not think. Oh, 
 I know they think they think, but they only think 
 they think. Oftentimes having listened to a 
 speaker, we say to ourselves, ' I like to hear that 
 man talk he makes me think.' Or, in reading 
 an author, we say, ' I like his books he makes me
 
 FOECES THAT WIH 173 
 
 think/ Sometimes a young fellow, by way of self- 
 excuse, exclaims, ' Well, I didn't think.' The old 
 proverb has it, ' A penny for your thoughts,' but 
 to-day they will give you a million dollars for an 
 idea if you really have one. 
 
 "A young fellow came into the office of the 
 managing editor of a metropolitan paper and ap- 
 plied for a position. ' What can you do ? ' asked 
 the editor. ' Really, I do not know,' came the re- 
 ply. ' You see I have nothing but ideas.' ' Noth- 
 ing but ideas ! ' the editor exclaimed, springing to 
 his feet. ' You're just the man we have been look- 
 ing for. I tell you what I will do. I will give you 
 fifty thousand dollars for an idea that will enable 
 us to increase the circulation of our paper a hun- 
 dred thousand copies.' 
 
 I know a man who made a fortune out of so 
 simple a thing as lacing up his shoes: a very simple 
 thing under ordinary circumstances, but when the 
 steel is off the end of one of the shoe laces and 
 you try to put it through the eyelet, only to have 
 it ball up on the wrong side, your traffic is blocked 
 right there. And when you chew the end of that 
 dirty old shoestring until the recuperation of a 
 night's sleep is gone, you know that something 
 should be done, but you only think about it in a 
 muddled way and let it go. This man put four 
 hooks on each side of a high top shoe, got a patent 
 on it, and made a fortune. 
 
 " I know another man who made a fortune out
 
 174 YIKDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 of so simple a thing as shining his shoes. The old 
 kind of shine didn't last as long as you were rub- 
 bing it. This man mixed a little turpentine in the 
 old kind of shoe-shine. He didn't crowd anybody 
 to the wall, he just put out a superior article. The 
 men who were making the old kind retired. Good 
 for a fortune to the man who thought clearly about 
 so simple a thing as shining shoes. 
 
 " I also know of a man who made a fortune by 
 just putting a crimp in a piece of wire. He made 
 a hook and eye that would stay put, and then ad- 
 vertised, ' See that hump ! ' That was all ! 
 
 " A little while ago the sources of profit in the 
 packing industry were two meat and hides. 
 Then the heads of the various departments began 
 to think things through. ' We are throwing to the 
 scrap-heap,' they said, ' materials that should be 
 converted into cash.' One man said, ' We can 
 grind up the bones for fertilizer.' Another said, 
 ' The gristle can be used for plastering purposes, 
 and the hair for mattresses.' Another said, ' We 
 can prepare the blood, put it in stone jars; the 
 women can take out half a teaspoonful, pour hot 
 water on it and make beef tea.' Another said, ' I 
 have analyzed the black scum that floats on the 
 surface of the water, and I find that it contains 
 the elements of finest glycerine.' Another said, 
 * In the scraps that we are throwing away, there is 
 fat enough to make the best soap.' Still another 
 said, ' Here are the horns and the hoofs. We can
 
 FOECES THAT WIN 176 
 
 make buttons out of some, glue out of some, and 
 gelatine out of the rest.' Then they thought they 
 had everything, but one day a man came in and 
 said, ' The other day I went into the slaughtering 
 pen with a sensitive cylinder. On it, I caught the 
 squeal of the hogs. We can duplicate that cylinder 
 and sell it.' This they did; and now as a conse- 
 quence, they make money out of everything, from 
 the gristle to the squeal, by thinking without con- 
 fusion clearly. 
 
 " The American Indian is the original Ameri- 
 can. He was the first owner of this great country. 
 But he is no longer a factor in the life of our land 
 because he didn't think. He saw only fish in the 
 stream and wild game in the forest. And because 
 he saw this, and only this, presently a man came 
 along, planted seeds in the lowland, gathered in a * 
 harvest and made a fortune which the Indian over- 
 looked. Another man came along, cut down trees, 
 ripped them into lumber, and made a fortune 
 which the Indian overlooked. Another came 
 along, used the bark for tanning purposes, tanned 
 the hides the Indians threw away, and made a for- 
 tune the Indians had overlooked. Another man 
 came along, ground the twigs of the trees into 
 pulp, changed them into paper, and made a for- 
 tune. Another dug down into the earth, discov- 
 ered the coal, and made a fortune. Another 
 changed the coal into coke. Another captured the 
 gas that was escaping from the coke oven, mixed
 
 176 VINDICATION OF KOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 it with water and wind, sold it for a dollar a thou- 
 sand, ten off for cash and made several for- 
 tunes. Another man dug down into the earth and 
 discovered the oil. Another man refined the oil. 
 Another man changed the dirty scum into axle- 
 grease and chewing gum, and made more fortunes 
 than all the rest ! Now these things were lying all 
 around the Indian. They were saying, * Here I 
 am. Here I am. I am yours for the asking. 
 Pick me up. Propose.' But he didn't propose to 
 any one, or all of them, and so he got left all along 
 the line. 
 
 " Men, listen to me ! " Dr. Dithmere ex- 
 claimed, leaning over the edge of the platform, and 
 looking them in the eye. " It would be the Begin- 
 ning of Days with thousands of men all over the 
 country if they would take themselves in hand, line 
 themselves up, and think through to a finish the 
 particular business that has been assigned them. 
 People deceive themselves by thinking that they 
 can get through on a bluff. They carry all of their 
 goods in the show windows, having no stock on the 
 shelf. They are supposed to know about land or 
 wheat or cattle or leather or linen, but they do not. 
 And when they are asked a question, they talk all 
 around the subject instead of cleaving to the core, 
 and giving you facts. 
 
 * I am going to read you a letter which Abra- 
 ham Lincoln wrote to his brother. The letter is 
 so thoroughly characteristic of the man and con-
 
 FOECES THAT WIN 177 
 
 tains such sound admonition that I am sure you 
 will appreciate it. I hold in my hand the original, 
 written by Lincoln's own hand ; if any of you wish 
 to see it at the close of this meeting, I shall be 
 glad to show it to you. Listen ! 
 
 " ' DEAR JOHNSTON: 
 
 " ' Your request for eighty dollars I do not 
 think it best to comply with now. At the various 
 times when I have helped you a little, you have said 
 to me, " We can get along very well now," but in 
 a very short time I find you in the same difficulty 
 again. Now this can only happen by some defect 
 in your conduct. What that defect is, I think I 
 know. You are not lazy, and still you are an 
 idler. I doubt whether since I saw you, you have 
 done a good whole day's work in any one day. 
 You do not very much dislike to work, and still 
 you do not work much, merely because it does not 
 seem to you that you could get much for it. This 
 habit of uselessly wasting time is the whole diffi- 
 culty; and it is vastly important to you, and still 
 more so to your children, that you should break 
 this habit. It is more important to them, because 
 they have longer to live, and can keep out of an 
 idle habit before they are in it easier than they 
 can get out after they are in. 
 
 ' You are now in need of some ready money; 
 and what I propose is, that you shall go to work, 
 " tooth and nail," for somebody who will give you 
 money for it. Let father and your boys take 
 charge of things at home prepare for a crop, and 
 make the crop; and you go to work for the best 
 money wages, or in discharge of any debt you owe,
 
 178 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 that you can get. And to secure you a fair reward 
 for your labour, I now promise you that for every 
 dollar you will, between this and the first of next 
 May, get for your own labour either in money or 
 in your own indebtedness, I will then give you one 
 other dollar. By this, if you hire yourself at ten 
 dollars a month, from me you will get ten more, 
 making twenty dollars a month for your work. In 
 this, I do not mean you shall go off to St. Louis 
 or the lead mines, or the gold mines in California, 
 but I mean for you to go at it for the best wages 
 you can get close to home, in Coles County. Now 
 if you will do this, you will soon be out of debt, 
 and what is better, you will have a habit that will 
 keep you from getting in debt again. But if I 
 should now clear you out, next year you will be 
 just as deep in as ever. You say you would al- 
 most give your place in Heaven for $70 or $80. 
 Then you value your place in Heaven very cheaply, 
 for I am sure you can with the offer I make you 
 get the seventy or eighty dollars for four or five 
 months' work. You say if I furnish you the 
 money you will deed me the land, and if you don't 
 pay the money back, you will deliver possession 
 Nonsense! If you can't now live with the land, 
 how will you then live without it? You have al- 
 ways been kind to me, and I do not now mean to 
 be unkind to you. On the contrary, if you will 
 but follow my advice, you will find it worth more 
 than eight times eighty dollars to you. 
 
 " ' Affectionately your brother, 
 
 " ' A. LINCOLN/ ' 
 
 The men were now thoroughly alive with in- 
 terest. They had applauded each point of the ad-
 
 FORCES THAT WIN 179 
 
 dress, but as they listened to the reading of the 
 Lincoln letter, a silence fell upon them. After an 
 eloquent pause, Dr. Dithmere said: 
 
 " Now let us do some thinking. The human 
 mind is a natural tramp, somebody has said. Let 
 us see if we can command ourselves. Thus far, 
 I have dealt with the individual. I am an indi- 
 vidualist to begin with, but not an individualist all 
 the way through; for where there are two, for 
 independence you must write interdependence. If 
 a man were alone on an island, like Robinson 
 Crusoe, he might be independent; but we are not 
 alone we are members one of another. We live 
 in an organized state of society. We inherit the 
 harvest of others' planting. We reap what they 
 have sown. 
 
 " I like Carleton and Riley, for they are close 
 to the life of the average man. In one of his 
 poems, Carleton gives us the picture of an old 
 settler's reunion. They had asked the oldest 
 pipneer to tell his story, and after setting forth the 
 hardships and good-fellowship of bygone days, he 
 continued, ' I remember one night I came home 
 from work uncommon late. I was hungry and 
 tired. Her supper struck me wrong. When I 
 went out to milk, the cows had wandered from 
 their feeding ground. In a fit of anger, I remon- 
 strated with her. " Why didn't you keep the ani- 
 mals in view and drive them in? You've nothing 
 else to do."
 
 180 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 " ' The heft of all our life on me must fall, 
 
 And you just lie round and let me do it all. 
 
 That speech, it wasn't gone a half a minute 
 Before I saw the cold, black poison in it ; 
 
 And I'd have given all I had and more 
 To have only gotten it safely back indoor.' 
 
 " Then he went on to relate how she had left 
 and he had gone out in search of the cattle. Dur- 
 ing his absence, she returned. She put a little note 
 on the table saying how sorry she was to have 
 caused him the trouble ' she didn't mean to do so, 
 she was sincerely sorry.' She wrote: 
 
 " 'A while ago I heard the tinkle of a bell, 
 
 And where they are, I think I nearly now can tell.' 
 
 Then she added this tragic sentence: 
 
 " 'So piece out with love the strength I somehow seem 
 
 to lack, 
 
 And if you can, have a kind word for me when I 
 come back.' 
 
 ' That night, God spilled an awful storm down 
 over the hills. It staggered into the valley like a 
 blind Samson grappling at the roots of the world, 
 and in the quick-gathering gloom that followed a 
 flash of lightning, she made a misstep, fell to the 
 foot of the ravine and with barely strength enough 
 to crawl back, fell fainting, dying on the door-sill 
 the door-sill of which he, putting it in place, had 
 said : 
 
 ' When she crosses it, it will not be a log
 
 FORCES THAT WIN 181 
 
 cabin; her presence will make it the very ante- 
 room of heaven.' 
 
 " All that night he was out in the storm calling 
 her name, but the only answer was the thunder 
 stumbling down the stairway of the skies, and 
 when at last the gates of the morning were lifted 
 and the orange splendours of the new day flooded 
 the work, he came back from his vain search and 
 found her dead; and, worse than death for 
 there are some things worse than death was the 
 memory that his last words to her were a reproach. 
 
 " It's amazing," said the speaker, pausing and 
 looking off into the distance, " it's amazing how a 
 man will sometimes be a fool, away below him- 
 self, in the way in which he speaks to people whom 
 he loves. 
 
 " Then the old settler forgot about the reunion. 
 In imagination, he was away at the other end of 
 fifty years, living over again the most tragic ex- 
 periences of his life, and as his frail body trembled, 
 in an agony of despair, he cried out: 
 
 " ' Here I am, what everybody " well-to-do " would 
 
 call, 
 
 But, oh, this night I'd give it all 
 If somehow I through fifty years could reach 
 And kill and bury that half -minute's speech.' 
 
 " Of course he would, but he couldn't. There 
 are some things that you can't rub off the slate, 
 more's the pity, once you write them there.
 
 182 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 " Did you get that sentence on which the story 
 hinges ? Here it is ' Piece out with love the 
 strength I somehow seem to lack.' How far 
 would the best of us get any day of our lives if our 
 friends were not constantly doing that for us ? " 
 
 Beth noted Creighton's face as the speaker 
 brought the story to its climax. There was a far- 
 away look in his eyes, a mingled expression of 
 hope and sorrow. As for Jean, she sat transfixed. 
 There was a deep silence throughout the audience, 
 the sure evidence that the speaker's words had 
 found their way to the hearts of his hearers. 
 
 " Clear thinking is the first, and love the second 
 element of the forces that win," continued the doc- 
 tor, after a short pause. " Let me name a third. 
 It is cooperation. 
 
 " The other day I saw a ball game. Individ- 
 ually, one team had far and away the best play- 
 ers; but they were playing ball as if the game could 
 be played with one man. Of course they all knew 
 it takes up nine men to make a team, but they were 
 not playing ball that way. In the last half of the 
 ninth, with one out, they had a man on first. 
 The next man up was a man whose batting aver- 
 age for the season was over four hundred. I 
 heard the captain say to him as he came to the 
 plate, ' Now, George, forget it and play the game/ 
 Now, any kid knows that to play the game under 
 those circumstances was to put down a sacrifice 
 bunt and advance the man from first to second;
 
 FOECES THAT WIN 183 
 
 but he wouldn't. He had his eye on the bleachers. 
 He was going to be the hero of the day. He 
 tried for a hit. The ball went straight to the mit 
 of the short-stop who threw the ball to second; 
 like a shot it was relayed to first, two men were 
 out, and the chance to score and win the game 
 was gone. Men, I know ball teams, lodges, clubs, 
 churches, communities that, individually, are made 
 up of fine people, but they are divided into cliques, 
 and unless a project originates with their little set, 
 or their chosen few, or their select minority, they 
 are against it. It takes a big man to efface him- 
 self for the good of the cause. Your little man 
 who, intellectually, is so small he has to stand on a 
 shingle to look over a cob will never pull off a star 
 stunt like that. 
 
 " There is one thing more of which I wish to 
 speak. Into the life of the man who thinks clearly, 
 who loves sincerely, and who cooperates with his 
 fellows, you must put one more element, namely, 
 the element of faith. 
 
 " The bee is the best house builder we know. 
 He knows how to build the strongest house with 
 the least material. 
 
 " The spider is the best bridge builder. He 
 knows how to put in his guy ropes, stays and sup- 
 ports to make them stay put. 
 
 " The wasp is the original paper maker. He 
 puts in oil enough to keep out rain, and asbestos 
 enough to keep out the fire.
 
 184 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 "The beaver is the best dam builder in the 
 world. In the storm, his culverts do not wash out 
 the way ours do. 
 
 " Now bring them together, the bee, the spider, 
 the wasp, the beaver. Draw a circle around them. 
 Can you give them any pointers? No, you can- 
 not. You can take lessons from them, but you 
 can't instruct them. They have arrived. 
 
 " Now break the circle and let man join them. 
 Do you think the same concerning man ? No, you 
 do not. Why? Man knows that he has not ar- 
 rived, he is in the way, and he says to himself that 
 unless the whole universe is a jumble of contradic- 
 tions, having arrived in the lower realm, to be 
 consistent it must arrive in the higher realm also, 
 and he says to himself, * I am here now, I may be 
 yonder to-morrow; I am on this shore to-day; I 
 will soon be on another shore, but wherever I am, 
 here or there, on this planet or another, I will not 
 be on a foreign shore, never in a strange country; 
 I will always be at home, ever in my Father's 
 house, and I will trust in God while the eternities 
 march over me, even as I trust Him now. 
 
 ' These, my friends, are the four elements of 
 the forces that win thought, love, action, trust. 
 They are the points of the compass by which we 
 sail the seas of time, and when the boat's keel 
 grates on the eternal shore and the eternal hills 
 rise into view, we will land and march forever- 
 more guided by these great principles."
 
 FOECES THAT WIN 185 
 
 The speaker was about to conclude, but the men 
 cheered so lustily that it was evident they wished 
 to hear him further. " Go on ! Go on ! " shouted 
 a voice from the rear, and again the applause 
 broke forth. 
 
 " Tell us more about Lincoln ! " exclaimed the 
 man, who was called " Judge." 
 
 At the mention of Lincoln's name, Dr. Dith- 
 mere's face lighted with a new enthusiasm, for he 
 had personally known the great Commoner. " I 
 would like to talk to you about Lincoln," he said, 
 " but there isn't time. However, I will just tell 
 you about the address I heard him give in Cooper 
 Union. I was a young man just going to cast my 
 first ballot for a president. I was a strong Seward 
 man. Lincoln had been announced to speak in 
 Cooper Union. I didn't want to go near him and 
 I didn't want to hear him, but I went to please a 
 friend. The building was packed to the roof! 
 When Lincoln began speaking, there was a faint 
 polite applause indicating curiosity and courtesy, 
 but no enthusiasm. My first impression of the 
 man was his height and awkwardness. He seemed 
 to me to be the tallest man I had ever seen, at 
 least seven feet tall. As he began to speak in an 
 awkward way, I nudged my friend and said, 
 ' That's your Lincoln. What do you think of 
 him ? ' His awkwardness lasted ten minutes ; then 
 it disappeared. The inflection of his voice became 
 mellow with fine feeling, and before we were
 
 186 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 aware of it, he was playing with us as if we were 
 children, all. Then his sentences became massive ; 
 each one resounded like an anvil blow, and for 
 two hours of cumulative power he continued to 
 speak and on each occasion when we thought he 
 had reached the highest level it was possible to at- 
 tain, he began anew and when he closed by say- 
 ing, ' Let us have faith that right makes might, 
 and in this faith, let us to the end dare to do our 
 duty as we understand it,' the audience, as one 
 man, was lifted to its feet, calling, ' Lincoln ! 
 Lincoln ! Lincoln ! ' 
 
 " Bryant, the poet editor of the New York Post, 
 whom all New York loved, tried to speak, but the 
 audience would not listen to him. Horace 
 Greeley, then in his prime, tried to speak, but the 
 audience kept on cheering, and when at last we 
 moved out of the hall, Lincoln had every man's 
 heart. I never saw an audience so completely in 
 the hand of any man as Lincoln had that Cooper 
 Union audience. We were in the grip of a giant; 
 we knew it, we felt it, but the most wonderful 
 thing about it all was the fact that we did not want 
 him to let go. 
 
 " Now, in just a word, let me draw four pic- 
 tures, then blend them into one, and I am done. 
 
 " First picture : His student's lamp is a saucer 
 of lard with a rag hanging over the edge of it. 
 His library is four books Weem's Life of Wash- 
 ington, ^Esop's Fables, the Bible, and a dictionary.
 
 FOECES THAT WIN 187 
 
 Whenever, in reading, he comes to a word too big 
 for him, he opens the dictionary and breaks the 
 word into smaller ones. He finds that words are 
 like flowers they have roots; and they are like 
 people they have relatives. He is acquiring the 
 best vocabulary of simple, Saxon speech of any 
 man of his day. He is thinking without confusion 
 clearly. 
 
 " Second picture: He has floated on a flatboat 
 down the Ohio River, and on another flatboat 
 down the Mississippi River, and he finds himself 
 unexpectedly in a slave market in New Orleans, 
 where they were selling people. On the auction 
 block is a young woman eighteen years of age. 
 She is uncommonly handsome. She is an octa- 
 roon, and because she has a slight trace of negro 
 blood in her veins, she is doomed and damned to 
 be sold on the auction block as a slave. He hears 
 men bid, and finally he hears the auctioneer say, 
 ' Sold for ten hundred and fifty dollars.' A man 
 comes forward, puts down the money, and takes 
 her away. She is his property. As this stranger 
 looks on, he says to himself, ' That isn't right. If 
 the universe is on the square, that isn't right. If 
 the curse of Almighty God doesn't smite a business 
 like that, then there isn't any such thing as the 
 curse of Almighty God, and if ever I get a chance, 
 I will hit that accursed thing and hit it hard.' 
 
 "Third picture: A great debate is on between 
 two giant intellects. His is one of them. He
 
 188 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 might vault into the United States Senate if he 
 plays to the galleries, but he won't. He comes 
 back again and again to this fundamental propo- 
 sition ' A republic cannot permanently endure, 
 half slave and half fr.ee/ 
 
 " Fourth picture: The time has come when the 
 republic needs a leader. Not a Northern man, not 
 a Southern man, not an Eastern man, not a West- 
 ern man, but an American man with an American- 
 ism as big as the whole American continent. God 
 has been training him in his obscurity, and school- 
 ing him in the school of hard knocks. Blocks of 
 hindrances he had changed into stepping stones of 
 usefulness, and he had gone up the stairs of 
 honour, into the temple of a noble and useful life, 
 and now the nation, fixing its eye on him, says, 
 ' Come, be our captain, guide for us the ship of 
 state; the hold is full of slaves, the crew is in 
 mutiny, and she is floundering water-logged in the 
 broken waters of war.' And he answers the call, 
 stands on the bridge, thinks, loves, acts, trusts, 
 and guides the ship into the peaceful waters of a 
 great world power, and then goes up to take a 
 place imperishable among the men whose names 
 were never meant to die. Star of first magnitude 
 in the diadem of America's glory, he is known to 
 all the world, but he is ours, first of all and for- 
 evermore Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 " Sometimes you find a man who lives in the 
 realm of the mental ; he is clear and cold. Some-
 
 FORCES THAT WIN 189 
 
 times you find a man who lives in the realm of the 
 emotional: there are two kinds of love; one sweet- 
 ens the heart, one softens the brain. Sometimes 
 you find a man who is all action; he is off on all 
 kinds of drives. Sometimes you find a man who 
 simply trusts he is visionary. But when you find 
 a man in whose life thinking, loving, acting and 
 trusting are blended, you have the divine combus- 
 tion we call genius. 
 
 " I don't know what genius is. I only know 
 there is such a thing. Sometimes when I think of 
 genius, I think of a man who is eccentric. But 
 not every odd mannerist who fools the public with 
 self-made eccentricity is a genius. Sometimes I 
 think genius is just knowing. It is knowing, but 
 it isn't just knowing. I know a man who can 
 speak, read and write correctly seven different lan- 
 guages, and he can't make a living in any one nor 
 all of them. He has every faculty except the fac- 
 ulty of knowing how to use his faculties. He is a 
 walking encyclopedia, stuffed full of facts, in- 
 visible six days and incomprehensible on the sev- 
 enth. Sometimes I think genius is a state of mind 
 that lives in realms altogether apart, among the 
 stars. But it isn't the achievement of genius to 
 fail in the practical world. 
 
 " Genius is sensitiveness of soul, the capacity 
 for taking infinite pains, the ability to light your 
 own fire, the unconscious wisdom of ignorance ; it 
 is nine-tenths work, it is power of initiative, it is
 
 190 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 knowing when to do, and how. It is thinking, 
 loving, acting, trusting, blended in due propor- 
 tion. 
 
 " A genius in music will take the seven notes 
 of the musical scale, throw them over a piece of 
 paper, then take his place at the piano, sweep his 
 fingers over the keyboard; the muffled hammers 
 strike the wires, a vibration goes through the at- 
 mosphere, strikes your auditory nerve, sweeps 
 clear your brain, floods your soul with purity, and 
 lifts you on banks of melody into realms where you 
 make resolutions to be good that an angel couldn't 
 keep genius in music. 
 
 " An artist walks down a road, sees two peas- 
 ants wearing wooden shoes, hoeing potatoes. He 
 goes home. Along the way he borrows a few cents 
 from a casual acquaintance, buys a few tubes of 
 colour and a yard of canvas. In his studio, he 
 lays on his dyes, the colours supplement each other, 
 and there is the potato patch, the peasants, the 
 wooden shoes, the hoe handle resting on the shoul- 
 ders, the hands folded, the heads bowed in reverent 
 devotion, the angelus bells pealing through the 
 evening sky, and all the world is hushed in prayer. 
 A potato patch, peasants, wooden shoes, a few 
 cents' worth of colour, a yard of canvas, a great 
 picture genius in beautiful things. 
 
 " A poet walks along the street, listens to laugh- 
 ter of school children as they go along swinging 
 their books. He throws the alphabet as a lasso
 
 FOECES THAT WIN 191 
 
 around the laughter, and weaves it into a song of 
 the days gone by genius in poetry. 
 
 " Your Lincoln takes the woe of the slave, dips 
 his pen, and writes the greatest document of the 
 country genius in statesmanship. 
 
 " Men, I have a vision. This world of ours is 
 to-day a neighbourhood. The telegraph and the 
 wireless, the cable and the newspaper have an- 
 nihilated distance and space. Is there any reason 
 why a neighbourhood should not be a brother- 
 hood? I submit there is not. Through the years, 
 two ideals of government have been evolved. 
 The democratic, of the people, for the people, and 
 by the people, with legislative, judicial and execu- 
 tive departments, two United States senators from 
 each state, one congressman for every one hundred 
 and seventy-five thousand of the population, and 
 a president as chief executive. The other ideal of 
 government is the monarchial. A man is born to 
 the purple, a prince. By accident of birth, he 
 vaults into a throne and commands the people to 
 surround that throne and keep it safe. In the in- 
 terests of human welfare, this autocratic form of 
 government is going, the democratic ideal will 
 come, and we will put money, time, work, brains 
 and life into a propaganda of national and inter- 
 national fraternity, and organize the world, not 
 into alliances, but into a federation with a court 
 of the nations, whose findings will be as binding 
 as the rulings of the Supreme Court of the
 
 192 VINDICATION OF EOBEKT CEEIGHTON 
 
 United States. We are rich enough, wise enough, 
 strong enough to do the big thing. Some- 
 where beneath the stars there is the genius 
 who will blaze the way into the new world 
 order." 
 
 It was a popular address. When Creighton pro- 
 posed a vote of thanks, it was given heartily and 
 unanimously. After the meeting, many of the 
 men crowded to the front, and shaking the doc- 
 tor's hand, thanked him for the inspiration of the 
 hour. 
 
 " You have a fine camp and a wonderful com- 
 pany of men," said Dr. Dithmere to Creighton, 
 as they sat in his office chatting after the ad- 
 dress in the hut. " I don't think that I have 
 ever talked to a more appreciative audience any- 
 where." 
 
 " That's because you had something to say, and 
 kept just a few ideas ahead of the men all the way 
 through," replied Creighton, with interest. " They 
 are quick to respond to such an address, but they 
 will not listen to platitudes. Any man who thinks 
 he can hold them by extemporizing on common- 
 places has a few guesses coming. The men won't 
 stand for it. They are not hands; they are men. 
 The project is not mine; it is theirs. They say 
 ' we.' That's the secret, if there is a secret, of the 
 way the men stay by the job." 
 
 While Creighton and Dr. Dithmere were en- 
 gaged in conversation in the office, Swen and Sam
 
 FOECES THAT WIN 193 
 
 were holding an important conference just outside 
 the door. 
 
 " He'll be through in a minute," said Sam, as 
 he folded the paper which they had been reading. 
 " I think we had better wait here." 
 
 "Ay tank yu ban right," Swen replied, " but ve 
 must see him to-night. Dis ban vot ve vant." 
 
 Thus the two men waited until they saw Dr. 
 Dithmere leave the office, and just as Creighton 
 was on the point of turning out the lights, having 
 closed his desk, the men came through the door 
 and stood before him. 
 
 " I think we have it," Sam said laconically. 
 *' Anyway we want your help. This was given to 
 me by a man who made his get-away before I knew 
 what his errand was. He had one of the men call 
 me out of the meeting and said he had a message 
 for me. ' It will explain itself/ he said, ' and there 
 is no reply.' Then he went away and I went back 
 to the hut to hear the lecture. Swen and I want 
 you to see the letter he left." Sam handed to 
 Creighton the paper he held in his hand. Without 
 speaking, Creighton opened the letter and read : 
 
 "FRIEND SAM: if i may call you so. i no you 
 are surprised to get a letter from me but i hope 
 you wont be mad at my writin to you. i want to 
 tell you my thanks to Mr. Creighton for the way 
 he talked to me when i was in camp, i guess he 
 thot i did not cair for what he said and at the first 
 go off i didnt but i node he was a man who had
 
 194 VINDICATION OF EOBEBT CREIGHTON 
 
 dun big work with men and wasnt gassin and all 
 the boys in the camp node it. i used to think at 
 iiite what he sed and i made up my mind to nock 
 off and tel and live on the square but they sent 
 word that if i pulled off that stuff that they would 
 get me. i wish i hadnt dun it. i made up my mind 
 to be a square bloke i want a chance to square it 
 and i keep thinkin it over and over as i go along, 
 it is a long time since it happened and it is the caus 
 of my being where i am now. i aint got well enuf 
 along to rite as i would talk i no i aint speled all 
 the words rite in this and lots of other mistakes 
 but the worst mistake i ever made was when i let 
 the gang put me in a hole when i swore to a pack 
 of lies on Creighton I was brot up in a poor house 
 until i run away and i never new who my father 
 and mother was and i dont no my rite name but i 
 had no rite to do what i dun. Creighton is the 
 man i think most of in the world the other bunch 
 is a bad lot some day i will tel what i no and it 
 wont be long i wish i node you but that would 
 spoil the game they are spottin me every minit. 
 
 " FLECK." 
 
 As Creighton concluded the reading of the let- 
 ter, he looked first at Sam then at Swen, then he 
 said: 
 
 " Boys, I think perhaps the best thing to do is to 
 get a good night's rest. I'm not sure of myself. 
 Let us wait until morning. It looks as if there 
 was daylight ahead." 
 
 He then turned to put out the light, while Sam 
 and Swen quietly departed.
 
 XV 
 THE LOST LIBRARY 
 
 THERE were times when the monk 
 wrapped his cloak about him and paced 
 the rocky shelf on the mountainside. 
 What he said then was not intended for human 
 ears. The walk seemed to quiet him, the undis- 
 turbed communion to soften and glorify his coun- 
 tenance, and as Quinn noted the mystic pacing to 
 and fro, he felt himself drawn toward him with a 
 strange power. 
 
 Why should he thus watch the monk, he said to 
 himself when he had just come from the monas- 
 tery where the arches flung their shadows through 
 the deep interior and where he felt the old revolt 
 against a life that to him seemed to be held in the 
 mastery of carved devices shining in the dim light 
 of the altar. 
 
 Through the door, Quinn watched the monks in 
 the chapel at their evening prayers. Before the 
 altar were the crucifix and the candles about it. In 
 the dim light, the monks seemed sad and pallid, and 
 Quinn wondered why men should will to spend 
 their lives in this fashion. " What God do they 
 worship," he asked himself, " that they think He
 
 196 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 requires such service at their hands? Their mo- 
 tives were the best. They sought spiritual light. 
 To them, religion was a state of mind in which all 
 of the other obligations in life were cancelled in 
 the relationship of the soul to God. But this de- 
 tachment from the world was hazy, visionary. To 
 hide in a monastery was quitting the game ! " 
 Quinn believed that the currents of life are the 
 same in all men. To him, life itself was the school 
 in which men must learn the lessons of self-mas- 
 tery. In this school, all men are students, will- 
 ingly or not. Some are truants, some refuse to 
 study, some refuse to submit to discipline. Yet 
 the school keeps on. That was what life meant to 
 Quinn, but this! 
 
 Twilight fell in the grim halls and the monk, 
 having ended his vigil, was returning to the mon- 
 astery. He saw Quinn sitting on a boulder, look- 
 ing out across the sea and he drew near and sat 
 down beside him. He seemed to contrast the dif- 
 ference between Quinn's life and his own. 
 
 " People who give advice, my son," he said, 
 after a pause, " are never popular. As a rule, 
 when people ask for it, it isn't advice they want. 
 Generally they have decided what they want to do, 
 and ask endorsement of their plans. 
 
 " No, I won't offer you advice, but when I think 
 of you, I try to put myself in your place. To you, 
 the life we lead here seems unnatural. But to us 
 to any one, wherever we happen to be, life is
 
 THE LOST LIBEAEY 197 
 
 lived in facts, values, ideals and obligations. The 
 world without matters little ; it is the world within 
 that counts. To work in the world without is to 
 put a fence around our desires. But to renew our 
 life and to kill distrust, that endures! " 
 
 Quinn nodded his head. 
 
 " Truth sometimes seems plain and humble," 
 continued the lay-brother. " No doubt we make it 
 seem unpleasant to you. But truth is a big idea 
 and we can't get its meaning until we know it in 
 relation to what exists and what we do. No man 
 who thinks wrong can act right. Dirt to the body 
 is sin to the mind! Dirt means pestilence and 
 death. Ignorance, too, has its terrible conse- 
 quences. Ignorance in religion means supersti- 
 tion. Ignorance in science means intolerance. 
 Ignorance in politics means tyranny: in business, 
 it means disaster. Everywhere it means confu- 
 sion! Now knowledge means information in due 
 order. But knowledge is not easily acquired. 
 Scholarship never comes by explosion. The treas- 
 ures of truth are secured by patient toil! Most 
 of our troubles arise from wrong ideas; we are 
 ignorant of the values of life. Therefore, society 
 is rent asunder and men make war. Men have 
 thought and acted as if the relationships of life 
 rested on education, but that is the relationship of 
 a man to knowledge. Men have sought to make 
 the relationships of life rest on patriotism, but that 
 is the relationship of a man to his country. Peo-
 
 198 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 pie have sought to base the relationships of life on 
 aristocracy, but that is the relationship of a man 
 to his social order. Or they have tried to make 
 the relationships of life rest on business, but that is 
 the relationship of a man to money. Where there 
 are men, there are brothers. Where there are 
 brothers, there must be brotherhood, and the only 
 enduring relationship of life is the relationship of 
 man to man. But all this you have worked out 
 for yourself! " 
 
 But Ouinn shook his head. 
 
 ; ' You think the life we live here is unnatural. 
 Maybe so. It seems to you that we make poverty 
 and denial our chief concern. It looks to you as 
 though we sought to make crusts the symbol of our 
 religion. That may be true, but not all the truth. 
 A crust and religion go hand in hand for the same 
 reason that a crust and music, a crust and art, and 
 a crust and writing, go hand in hand. 
 
 " Come with me, my son," the monk said, after 
 a pause. " There is something I have been want- 
 ing to show you," and the monk arose and led the 
 way to a door that was hidden under a vine. Be- 
 yond it, a series of steps led downward into the 
 dark. There were rows of gloomy piers that ex- 
 tended through the center of a transept, and be- 
 tween these, the monk led the way to the farther 
 end. 
 
 In passing over the stone pavement, Quinn 
 could see from the words on the slabs that be-
 
 THE LOST LIBEAEY 199 
 
 neath them the monks shared their resting place in 
 death. 
 
 Arriving at the end of the transept, and passing 
 through a door, they entered a low-browed vault. 
 The walls had no ornament but a crucifix in the 
 corner, opposite the head of a narrow, iron bed- 
 stead. These, and a table, were the only objects 
 which met Quinn's eye as it accustomed itself to 
 the gloom. 
 
 "What a place is this!" he reflected. "No 
 gleam of light in the darkness no sound to break 
 the silence. This is worse than the prison Creigh- 
 ton was in." And thinking of Creighton, he 
 thought of Jean. 
 
 But presently he began to take in the situation, 
 and that the mantle of darkness would still con- 
 ceal the hardness which the candle-light was un- 
 folding with flitting shadows. 
 
 The monk was watching him closely. 
 
 " My son," he said, when he had closed the 
 door, " when I came to this place, I spent my first 
 months within these walls. Before I came, as I 
 told you, I was a teacher." For a moment he fal- 
 tered, but in a little while gathered composure to 
 go on. " There is a pathos in the life of a teacher. 
 He works to free his students from his service. 
 And the day comes to dismiss the student, who 
 leaves the teacher, never to come back. I taught 
 history the dawn of nationalities. Our ancestors 
 appear in history as a nation already formed, with
 
 200 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIQHTON 
 
 customs and language and a civilization of their 
 own. 
 
 " In my college work, I gave myself to the study 
 of the beginnings of this nationality: on coming 
 here, I took up this work again. 
 
 " I studied the history of single words. In do- 
 ing so, I found that they revealed culture and the 
 development of the people using them, for if they 
 had a word for an object, the thing itself must 
 have existed. 
 
 " After studying the history of a single word, 
 I made comparisons, and found many words of 
 widely separated nations derived from the same 
 root. I now began to write down lists of things I 
 considered valuable in tracing these words to 
 their origin, such as the Greek ' Eos/ the Latin 
 ' Aurora,' the English ' Easter/ the Goddess of 
 the Dawn, dwelling in the East, heralding the re- 
 turn of Spring Easter the time we celebrate the 
 resurrection of Christ. 
 
 " One day I chanced upon a volume with a 
 cover upon it. From the prompting of curiosity, 
 I removed the cover and found, inside, the plan of 
 a cathedral. As I looked, and as I was about to 
 lay it aside, I was struck with the resemblance it 
 bore to our monastery. Only there were too many 
 rooms, an additional wing which does not appear 
 in this building, there being none, as you know. 
 Again on the point of laying it aside, I noticed a 
 heavy line of a different colour drawn through the
 
 THE LOST LIBEAEY 201 
 
 plan, as if to cut off the wing referred to. Let 
 me show you." 
 
 The monk now arose, and drawing aside the 
 table, lifted a trap-door, and from a steel-bound 
 wooden box, containing an endless variety of man- 
 uscripts, the monk drew out a parchment on which, 
 when close to the light, Quinn could trace the 
 plans. 
 
 When he had closed the door, the monk seemed 
 agitated. For a while he sat in silence. The room 
 was dark; only a small effulgence marked the tal- 
 low dip at which Quinn gazed, waiting for the 
 monk to continue his story. 
 
 " My heart aches," said the monk, raising his 
 head after a lengthy pause. " But I must hurry. 
 Where did I stop?" 
 
 " The ground plans of the monastery," an- 
 swered Quinn. 
 
 " Yes. The rocks, as you know, rise high along 
 the western walls. A fissure in one of the boulders 
 caught my attention one day, and as I looked more 
 closely at the wall, I knew the arrangement of the 
 rocks around the foundation was artificial. Then 
 the floor plan flashed into my mind again, and I 
 explored the interior of the monastery, sounding 
 the walls and the floors. 
 
 " One day in the crypt that contains the tomb 
 of the beloved St. John, I was impressed by the 
 massiveness of its proportions. It was too large 
 to have come through the door, and besides the
 
 202 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 granite, smooth now as it was the day it came 
 from the sculptor, so different from anything else 
 in the entire place, told a story of days long gone 
 by. ' It was placed here during the erection of the 
 building/ I said to myself, ' or at least before the 
 walls surrounded it.' 
 
 " On the tomb is an effigy of the Apostle. 
 Matchless sculpture! Not a chip could I find in 
 the work. The joints are so matched that they 
 defy the point of a knife blade. The sides are the 
 same. 
 
 " But the floor appeared to me to be of a more 
 recent date. The pattern was perfect, save for a 
 small strip at one end of the tomb. It was col- 
 oured to match the mosaic, but of different mate- 
 rial and consisting of one solid piece. And the 
 joint was uncemented ! For as I pried, it moved. 
 Not knowing why, I brought my weight to bear 
 upon it. To my consternation, it suddenly gave 
 way, slipped in toward the center of the tomb, and 
 I heard it fall with an echo into something, deep 
 and wide. 
 
 " The excitement of this experience was so in- 
 tense, my temples throbbed so with pain that I 
 staggered from the crypt for air, or I believe I 
 should have died. 
 
 " But in my eagerness to know more, I was soon 
 in the crypt again. But you shall see. Come ! " 
 
 The monk arose, lighted another candle, and 
 beckoning Quinn to follow him, opened the door
 
 THE LOST LIBRARY 203 
 
 and led the way into the crypt that formed a side 
 room adjoining the one they had just left. It was 
 but a few steps out of one door and into another, 
 and a few yards to the left. On entering the room, 
 Quinn found everything just as the monk had de- 
 scribed it. 
 
 Without a word, the monk closed the door, giv- 
 ing Quinn the candle as he did so. A strip of hard 
 wood, about six inches in width and three and a 
 half feet in length, coloured to match the mosaic 
 floor, was now lifted from the place into which it 
 had been perfectly fitted. 
 
 The monk knelt down, reached through the 
 opening, touched a hook at one end and then at 
 the other, and as he once more arose to his feet, 
 he lifted to one side the marble slab that formed 
 the end of the sarcophagus. During all this time, 
 not a word had passed between them, and the 
 monk, in apparent self-forgetfulness, took the 
 candle and turning around, let himself down into 
 the opening. The flickering light that stole its way 
 into the weird gloom lit up the impressive features 
 of the monk as he descended beneath the tomb. 
 
 " It is but ten steps down," said the monk. " I 
 will go before and light the way. You will have 
 no trouble in following me. Do as I do." 
 
 The voice was reassuring, and heeding instruc- 
 tions, Quinn turned around, let himself down into 
 the opening, and as he did so his foot touched the 
 first step. Down, down, lower, lower, deeper,
 
 204 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 deeper, blacker, blacker, step by step, and Quinn 
 stood at the monk's side in a narrow passageway 
 between the two damp, crumbling walls. Pro- 
 ceeding along the corridor, they came to an open- 
 ing that led into a series of larger rooms. The 
 galleries were dark, the corridors spectral, the 
 arches somber. 
 
 The monk urged Quinn to keep close to him to 
 see his way, but as Quinn followed his guide, it 
 was not without a sense of terror. He felt as 
 though he were going to living burial. He walked 
 in the fear of his own footsteps, troubled lest they 
 should startle into wake fulness some sleeping 
 creatures. It seemed to him that from out the past 
 whither they were intruding, he could feel the 
 hand of ages, and desolation chilled his heart. But 
 through it all, close to the monk, neither heeding 
 nor choosing, nor yet knowing the way, he was 
 brought by an entrance into a large square room 
 where he saw a rocky ceiling, the crumbling walls, 
 the sandstone floor. 
 
 After a pause, the monk said, " The box from 
 which I took the parchments holds, as you saw, 
 many papers and manuscripts the fruit of my 
 life's work, of years of study. These slabs and 
 figures that you see formed the materials with 
 which I worked. Hold the candle and I will show 
 you." 
 
 The monk drew a square of stone from a shelf 
 and, pointing to the inscriptions it bore, said :
 
 THE LOST UBEAEY 205 
 
 " Here, in the words Darius, Cyrus, Xerxes, 
 Persia and Zoroaster, the third letter is always the 
 same. This, however, was not enough to give me 
 the clue that I needed. I wanted to know for a 
 certainty that these letters spelled the names I 
 have mentioned. I studied until I saw that if this 
 word, as you see it here, meant Xerxes, it would 
 correspond with the last syllable of Artaxerxes, 
 there. I found it so, and held the key to open the 
 door of four thousand years. 
 
 " These moulds of bricks arranged on the shelf 
 are engraved. This engraving was done with an 
 iron pen before the bricks were hardened. The 
 bricks are volumes from Assyrian, Persian and 
 Babylonian libraries. They vary in shape and size, 
 as you see. The larger ones are monumental 
 slabs. Here are the regular sizes, the shape of an 
 ordinary brick; while here" and the monk 
 crossed the room, " are barrel-shaped volumes, 
 revolving on the pedestal upon which they rest; 
 the slightest touch turning, as you see, not the leaf 
 but the circular book, as you stand before it to read 
 its contents. 
 
 " These small discs with a single mark bear 
 the title of the volume. Passing in this disc 
 to the librarian, one obtained the desired vol- 
 ume. 
 
 " This was the form in which ancient books 
 were written, and it was well that it was so. Writ- 
 ten on these hard substances, the books have lasted
 
 206 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 through the centuries, whereas our paper volumes 
 would have crumbled long ago. 
 
 " These statues, monuments and figures also are 
 engraved. History is written upon them. 
 
 " But this is not all. Come over to this side." 
 
 Following the monk, Quinn stood before a low, 
 broken doorway that led into a smaller chamber. 
 
 Creeping through in obedience to the monk's 
 example, Quinn found himself in the midst of a 
 series of benches arranged in groups of three, each 
 a stone slab bearing a mummy. 
 
 Inscriptions upon the wall were so obliterated as 
 to baffle any attempt to decipher them. 
 
 In several places Quinn could see letters and 
 pictures of a peculiar character chiselled on blocks 
 of stone. 
 
 " With these mummies," said the monk, " I 
 found many rolls of papyrus, and from the papyri 
 taken from that mummy," pointing to one in the 
 center, " I was able to translate a psalm of praise 
 to the god, Osirus. By means of this inscription 
 written here in four languages, three of which I 
 could read, I could at last decipher the Egyptian 
 hieroglyphs. 
 
 " Here is the last mummy upon which I was 
 working, only partly unrolled, as you see. Hold 
 the candle." 
 
 The monk bent over the mummy that lay on the 
 slab, and as Quinn held the light over him, he re- 
 moved the linen casements. It was a delicate task,
 
 THE LOST LIBBARY 207 
 
 but the monk did it deftly. Yard after yard of the 
 cloth was unwound. On coming at last to the sub- 
 stance between the body and the cloth, the monk 
 removed it, very carefully, from the head of the 
 mummy. Now Quinn could see the features of a 
 person embalmed for thirteen hundred years be- 
 fore the birth of Christ. 
 
 " You can see," the monk said, as he gave Quinn 
 a ring and a scarabeus, " from this ring and this 
 scarab that the person here embalmed was of high 
 rank. Here is his story, written partly on papyrus 
 and some of it on the mummy cloth," and as Quinn 
 took up a piece of the linen to look at the inscrip- 
 tion, he noted that, although it was thick and yel- 
 low, the linen was sound. 
 
 Suddenly the monk hesitated. He lifted the 
 light and looked around him. There were the 
 rows of Egyptian mummies and the strips of 
 mummy cloth. He looked at the clammy floor, at 
 the ceiling, mouldy and awe-inspiring, then at 
 Quinn. Placing his hand upon his forehead, he 
 stood a moment, then said, " I am tired ; the air 
 stifles me. We must go." 
 
 Quinn followed the monk in silence. 
 
 Once more the monk stopped as if to make a 
 general survey of the place, then he motioned 
 Quinn through the door, and followed him along 
 the passage that led to the steps. The monk gave 
 Quinn the candle and helped him to ascend. 
 
 Above them was the tomb, and as Quinn as-
 
 208 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 cended, he grew faint, but he succeeded in creeping 
 through the opening beneath the crypt, and the 
 monk was at his side a moment later. The slab 
 was now replaced, and together they proceeded to 
 the room they had left upon this most extraordi- 
 nary expedition. Quinn resumed his place on the 
 bench as the monk put the candle upon the table. 
 
 " A strange world would this be in which to 
 live," exclaimed the monk, "if we had no books, 
 no writings of any sort whatever! Think of liv- 
 ing with all the libraries destroyed! And yet a 
 man tried precisely to do this thing. 
 
 " In the seventh century was the camel driver, 
 Mohammed. He found the Arabs of the East di- 
 vided into warring camps. These, he united in a 
 combination of religion and militarism. As a 
 prophet of God, he swept his world befdte him. 
 To the victors in battle, he promised the gold of 
 the infidel, and to the slain, the women of Para- 
 dise. Swarms of Saracens sprang from the 
 ground ! Desert and city resounded alike with the 
 cry, ' Death to the infidel ! ' Horsemen would 
 pounce upon a city, conquer it, give it over to 
 pillage and the sword. The old who fled for 
 refuge to the churches perished in the flames. The 
 young were gathered into the market-place, cata- 
 logued, and sold as slaves. 
 
 " In Alexandria, the world's great library was 
 located. Seven hundred thousand volumes ! 
 
 " ' If the writings agree with the Koran/ said
 
 THE LOST LIBRABY 209 
 
 the Moslems, 'they are not necessary; if they do 
 not agree with the Koran, they are pernicious; in 
 any case, they are useless; let the books be des- 
 troyed.' 
 
 " From this roll written in Arabic, I learned 
 that when the Patriarch of Alexandria saw that 
 Saracens would capture the city, and having 
 learned of their purpose to destroy the library, he 
 ordered a collection of its most valued treasures 
 to be made and had them carried to the place 
 where you just saw them for safe keeping. 
 
 " But the Patriarch was killed, Alexandria 
 levelled, and seven hundred thousand books des- 
 troyed, as everybody supposed, and the world 
 never knew the difference! All this is here re- 
 corded. I could not believe the record to be true. 
 But see the proof. 
 
 " Here are copies of the Iliad and of the Odys- 
 sey, supposed to have been burned. 
 
 " Here is Euclid. Here is the Gospel of Philo, 
 the Jew of Alexandria, beginning with the very 
 words of John, and giving the life of Christ." 
 
 Without waiting for comment, the monk con- 
 tinued rapidly: 
 
 " I was now no longer in doubt concerning the 
 story of the lost library, and I redoubled my ef- 
 forts to read the records that surrounded me. The 
 ancients lived again and I lived with them. This 
 is the result." 
 
 The monk now. opened a 'box and, sitting down
 
 210 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 beside it, placed its contents upon his knee. " Look 
 at these treasures, my son," he said. 
 
 " A map of the world as it was known to the 
 ancients ! It represents the earth as a circular disc 
 surrounded by a vast ocean with northern Europe 
 looking to them very much as the center of Africa 
 appears to us to-day and described as a country, 
 cold, damp and forlorn. 
 
 " In this roll you will find the different accounts 
 of a deluge as I found them engraved on the 
 monuments you saw. The records vary. The 
 Chaldeans said, for example, it lasted but seven 
 days, but all speak of it, and the fact that each of 
 the old historians has a record of it, shows it must 
 have been an event which all believed had oc- 
 curred. 
 
 " Here you will find a history of Carpenish, 
 the capital city of the Hittites. The reco'rd shows 
 them a very prosperous nation, a cultured people. 
 Three thousand years before Abraham, they had 
 reached a high state of civilization. They had 
 great irrigation systems, civil engineering projects, 
 libraries, deeds of property, contracts for the car- 
 rying out of great enterprises, codes and laws. 
 They commemorated days of special achievement 
 and showed a patriotic affection for their country. 
 
 " Among these Assyrian records, marked as you 
 see on the outside, you will find transcriptions of 
 legal and commercial transactions. Here also is a 
 code of laws, record of conquests, and a receipt
 
 THE LOST LIBBAKY 211 
 
 given by Sennacherib to Hezekiah for talents of 
 silver and gold, with the tale of a war between 
 them that resulted in the capture of thirty cities 
 by the Assyrian armies and the imprisonment of 
 Hezekiah in Jerusalem. 
 
 " In this Amorite record, you will find how they 
 worshipped the gods of benefit, such as the moon 
 and the sun. With them, you find mentioned 
 Abraham. 
 
 " Here is the Egyptian book of anatomy and 
 the ritual of the dead. Forty days were set aside 
 as the period for embalming, and seventy for the 
 time of mourning. The directions are explicit, 
 for when the spirit returned, as they believed it 
 would, the body must be in readiness to receive it. 
 
 " These records from the papyrus in the 
 mummy room which you saw are most complete. 
 Here are records of the earliest civilization. Four 
 thousand years before Christ, the organized forces 
 of Egypt built a highway from the ocean beyond 
 Asia to Africa. Records tell how they held pos- 
 session of the world. 
 
 " You will find the record of Joseph, who be- 
 came a prince under the shepherd kings, and an ac- 
 count of how the last of these was driven from 
 the throne by a king from the south, who made 
 Joseph and his people slaves. 
 
 " These bits of jewelry, taken from the mum- 
 mies, are beautifully inlaid, as you see. The large 
 pieces were hung about the neck by chains. The
 
 212 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 smaller sizes were worn about the arm or wrist. 
 Some of the inscriptions give the names of the 
 owners. The women adorned themselves with 
 jewelry for special occasions, the records tell us, 
 and for religious festivals. The women of Israel 
 secured such ornaments for the Exodus. 
 
 " Here we read of the marriage of a princess of 
 Egypt to Solomon, and a record of his burial on 
 the hillside east of Jerusalem. His history is in- 
 scribed on papyrus, says the record, and placed in 
 his tomb, where he sleeps to this day with the 
 other kings of the Jews. 
 
 " And this record," he concluded, taking up an- 
 other roll, " is a translation of the writing on the 
 pillars you saw ; they will tell you about Heliopolis, 
 where Moses, as a student, abode. Here he lived 
 as a son of the princess, instructed in all of the 
 wisdom of her people." 
 
 The monk was about to continue, but the scroll 
 dropped to the floor. Ouinn reached out a hand to 
 steady him even helped him to sit down. 
 
 After a long silence, the monk said, " Within 
 these walls, my son, are dwelling four thousand 
 years. Within these corridors, I have toiled on 
 into the deep recesses of the centuries. But far 
 from the light of day, I have looked up through a 
 well of darkness and have seen the heavens filled 
 with stars. 
 
 " Here is the oldest library in the world, and 
 the best. But you did not see it all. The ancients
 
 THE LOST LIBEAEY 213 
 
 were chemists as well as historians. They made 
 bronze metal, annealed glass, they were skilled in 
 imitating precious stones, they knew how to tem- 
 per steel, and they made a cement more enduring 
 than granite. They used devices in their giant 
 building to move large masses of stone. The col- 
 ours on their walls are shining after many thou- 
 sand years. 
 
 " Wisdom is ours, but not in its beginning, my 
 son. We are here for a day, the heirs of all the 
 ages. We only reap what they have sown. 
 
 " Take these papers, give them to the world. 
 I lay on you the holy obligation to dispense their 
 wisdom." 
 
 Quinn was moved. " I trust," he said, " that 
 this commission given into my hands will succeed 
 better than the one on which I came." 
 
 ''' You will succeed," said the monk, with a curi- 
 ous fervour. And lifting his old hands, took 
 Ouinn's into his own. 
 
 " Have you pondered the wonder of your com- 
 ing to us in spite of sea and tempest to your 
 promised destination ? " 
 
 Quinn nodded but not then nor afterward was 
 he sure of what the monk held treasured for him, 
 in ambition, in his mind.
 
 XVI 
 BETH AND JEAN 
 
 THE fall of the year had come, and with 
 it the bracing air. The rains had turned 
 the mountainsides into blankets of green- 
 ery and spread them with wild flowers. Beth 
 had many friends she remembered with birthday 
 greetings, and at Christmas time with gifts. The 
 presents she always selected with special care. 
 
 " There," she said to Jean one day. " I wish 
 I could see Amy's eyes when she opens her box; 
 she needs all the comfort that we can put into her 
 life." 
 
 " I don't suppose it is right," Jean replied, " but 
 I dread the coming of the holiday season. By 
 this time we had planned to be married, but 
 
 now r " and her voice broke as her eyes filled. 
 
 " I've tried to be brave, but I've reached the end ; 
 I can't go on. I'm dead, but I can't die, and I 
 wish I could ! " 
 
 "You are brave, dear," said Beth, with quiet 
 kindness. " Better times will come. I haven't 
 given up Quinn's return. I have a feeling, it al- 
 most amounts to a conviction, although I don't 
 know what to base it on, that Quinn is alive, and 
 that some day he will come back to you." 
 
 214
 
 BETH AND JEAN 216 
 
 Jean swept her face with a startled glance. 
 " You are not keeping anything from me, are 
 you ? " she cried. 
 
 " No, Jean, I don't know," replied the other, 
 " but I believe. And don't wish yourself dead ! 
 Think of the help you have been to so many peo- 
 ple! You are singing as you never sang before. 
 There's a yearning sympathy in your voice that 
 sends us on a pilgrimage to a holy shrine. Duke 
 told me what the men said after you sang for 
 them. My dear, with your gifts, you are wonder- 
 fully blessed !" 
 
 " You are so good to me ! " Jean replied. " For 
 your sake and Duke's, I have tried to be brave. 
 Duke has been so kind! With all his money, he 
 doesn't use it for a crutch. He has learned to 
 stand on his own feet; even if his father's for- 
 tune were swept away, he wouldn't fall. I'm glad 
 for you, dear," Jean concluded; and as she kissed 
 Beth, both arose and walked out on to the veranda. 
 
 As they came through the door, a rough man 
 came up the walk and said : 
 
 " Beg pardon, ma'am. They told me at the 
 camp that the lady who sings for the men could be 
 found here," and he paused, looking first at Beth, 
 then at Jean. Beth nodded to Jean, and said, 
 " This is the lady." 
 
 The fellow made an awkward salute. He was 
 a man beyond middle life, stout, with blond hair 
 and the ruddy complexion of a seaman.
 
 216 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 " I met a pal of mine," he said, addressing Jean, 
 " the one that worked in the camp a while back. 
 We was yarning about what happened to us on the 
 Norman, and he said that you was a friend of the 
 ship's doctor. He said he told you the last time 
 he saw him he was standin' on the bridge when 
 the ship listed, and when I told him my story, he 
 said, ' Dutch,' says he, ' you go right on up to the 
 camp and find that girl and tell her what you 
 know. She's the real thing,' says he, ' and I owe 
 the Doc my right hand, and anything I can do for 
 a friend of his, I'm bound to see done.' I'm 
 booked to sail to-morrow, so I just came up to 
 tell you." 
 
 The sailor paused a moment as if in search of a 
 starting point for his narrative. Beth invited him 
 to a seat on the veranda. He sat for a moment 
 twirling his small white sailor hat; then looking 
 into Jean's eager eyes, he said: 
 
 ;< You see, it was this way. I was on a raft. 
 We had eight men aboard. When day broke, 
 after we'd been all night afloat, the Doc came 
 alongside the raft, lifted himself up out of the sea 
 and crawled in with the bunch like as if he'd come 
 up out of the bottom of the ocean. We drifted 
 around for four days and nights, without food 
 and without water. One after another of the men 
 faded out and at last there was only two of us left 
 the Doc and me. We didn't do much talkin', 
 but we held on. The Doc was young and strong,
 
 BETH AND JEAN 217 
 
 and he had his nerve with him every minute. Just 
 here is where my story pinches out. I don't know 
 how it happened; I was just about gone, but it 
 seems the Doc saw a sail, and nailed his shirt to a 
 plank, and the first I knew after that was when I 
 come to on the deck of a brig that had picked us 
 up. We sailed along a few days, but the Doc was 
 all in, and they thought he was goin' to die. You 
 see, they don't like for a man to die aboard ship, 
 and seein' they was goin' to put off some goods on 
 an island, they just picks the Doc up and lets him 
 down the side into a boat, takes him ashore, and 
 when they came back and we sailed away, he 
 wasn't with us." 
 
 " They didn't abandon him to die, deserted and 
 alone ! " Jean asked, eagerly. 
 
 "No, lady, no! Sailors wouldn't do that to a 
 man like the Doc. They liked him and they 
 thought he would stand more show pullin' through 
 ashore than on board the brig. He was alive, and 
 I'll just give it as my opinion, he wasn't a-dyin'; 
 all he needed was time and rest. As I said, he 
 was young and strong, and he ain't the kind that 
 gives in." 
 
 " Then why haven't I heard from him? " Jean 
 asked. 
 
 " I'm bringin' you word, ain't I ? I'm tellin' 
 you, I think he's alive; you can't kill him, he's 
 tough, and what's more, he ain't the stuff that 
 caves in."
 
 218 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 " May I ask your name ? " Jean asked presently, 
 when the man made a shift to rise. 
 
 "Dutch. Just tell him Dutch called he'll 
 know. I'm sailin' to-morrow, as I told you, and 
 I must be off now," and bidding them good-bye, 
 the sailor abruptly started down the path. 
 
 " Thank you ! " Jean managed to call after him ; 
 then she went into the house to weep silently, as 
 only a grieving woman can weep. 
 
 Beth had stayed on the veranda; and as the 
 sailor left, she was accosted by a man who asked 
 her: 
 
 "Where's the half-breed?" 
 
 " Is it Sam you're looking for? " 
 
 " Yes, the Indian." 
 
 " He isn't here now," Beth replied, wrath fully. 
 "And I'd advise you not to be on the premises 
 when Sam returns," and so saying, she went into 
 the house. 
 
 For a long time she sat in a rocking-chair, medi- 
 tating. Then she drew near Jean and, stroking 
 her hair gently, said : 
 
 "Isn't life a muddle? Dad used to say there 
 was a difference between a riddle and a muddle. 
 A riddle, some one knows how to solve, but there's 
 no solution to a muddle. I confess it looks like a 
 muddle to me. Here you are, in love with Ouinn, 
 and he in love with you, and you're separated. 
 How happy you both would be if only you could 
 be together! And there is that beast, Brunner,
 
 BETH AND JEAN 219 
 
 out there; he has come into the mountains on a 
 hunting trip and is looking for Sam. He hasn't 
 been married a year and his wife has gone home 
 broken-hearted, her life wrecked. It's not that he 
 is ignorant," Beth continued, as if speaking to her- 
 self. " He has had every advantage that educa- 
 tion and money can give a man, but to him, a 
 woman is a pastime, to be taken as he takes a ciga- 
 rette. He can blow pretty rings of smoke ; he can 
 drink without spilling the contents over his shirt 
 front; he has a fine collection of stale jokes; but if 
 any one were to talk to him about keeping his head 
 level, his heart pure, his hands profitably occupied, 
 he wouldn't know what he meant." 
 
 Jean lay still only half listening. She was pon- 
 dering the sailor's story. Quinn was alive, per- 
 haps at least the sailor thought so. Then she 
 thought of the contrast Brunner's life presented. 
 " Quinn was capable, and he was pure-minded, like 
 a good coin, passing current anywhere ; like a good 
 apple, sweet and sound." That was the reason 
 she had loved him. He was good, and he was 
 good for something. 
 
 Beth still thought on about Brunner. Presently 
 she spoke, nodding to the Christmas package she 
 had wrapped the little while before. 
 
 " Brunner was at one time engaged to Amy. 
 He became acquainted with her, won her confi- 
 dence, her love, gave her an engagement ring, 
 promised to marry her ; then ruined her, and threw
 
 220 VINDICATION OP EOBEET 
 
 her down. He went right on with his dancing 
 and all the rest of it. Nobody turned him down ; 
 and after a while he married his present wife. 
 The organ played the wedding march, they were 
 married, received the congratulations of their 
 friends, and all the while Amy, whose life he had 
 spoiled, stood outside the pale of sympathy and 
 help." Beth's lips quivered as she concluded. 
 " Dad gave her money and sent her away. To- 
 day she's a wreck of the girl she was. I can get 
 along without hell, all right. I don't need it for 
 my friends, but what I want to know is, what are 
 you going to do with a wretch like Brunner, with- 
 out it? 
 
 " But if everything isn't wrong, he'll get his be- 
 fore the day is done. When you're through with 
 some things, you're not done with them. Brunner 
 has a sister. I wonder if he wouldn't feel like cut- 
 ting the heart out of any man who treated his sis- 
 ter the way he treated Amy. What I want to 
 know is, why doesn't he treat the other fellow's 
 sister the way he would like to have the other 
 fellow treat his sister? 
 
 " Don't people think of the consequences ? 
 After a while there won't be anything left but con- 
 sequences! Men ought to suffer results for their 
 wickedness and their selfish misdeeds." 
 
 There was a long pause. Then Beth continued, 
 " When Amy heard of Brunner's engagement to 
 his present wife, she wrote her a letter. ' I know
 
 BETH AND JEAN 221 
 
 it is folly to give advice,' she wrote ; ' I'm not pre- 
 suming to advise you, but there are some things 
 you ought to know. Unless you are only half as 
 wise as I think you are, you will hang up the re- 
 ceiver on him, and let it stay on the hook. There 
 is too much at stake. You will regret your present 
 course with every drop of blood in your heart. I 
 am saying these things to you because some one 
 should.' 
 
 " But the woman married him ! How hard 
 women are! We are far harder on each other, 
 far more suspicious, far more unforgiving than 
 men are ! " 
 
 " Perhaps that may be due to the fact that 
 women have higher ideals than men have, and find 
 it harder to compromise than men," said Jean. 
 
 But Beth shook her head After a moment, she 
 placed the Christmas box on the table and picked 
 up a Bible. " This was Dad's Bible," she said. 
 " I remember we were making a comparison of 
 Homer and Isaiah one day. Dad said he didn't 
 see why we were not required to study Hebrew as 
 well as Greek literature. ' Isaiah/ he said, ' is as 
 brilliant as Homer and better morals.' Did you 
 ever see Dad's writing?" she asked, giving the 
 Bible to Jean. " He wrote this from Whittier on 
 the fly leaf: 
 
 " ' We search the world for truth ! 
 To find that all the sages said 
 Is in the Book our mothers read.'
 
 222 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CKEIGHTON 
 
 " Dad said it calmed him to read the Bible. * It 
 doesn't dabble in time,' he said, * it brings us to the 
 place where the soul feels secure. I like to get 
 into the spirit of this Book,' he used to say to me. 
 He marked this verse in the sixth chapter of 
 Micah: 
 
 " ' He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; 
 to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk 
 humbly with thy God.' 
 
 "It's hard to be fair-minded, isn't it?" Beth 
 said as she finished reading the verse, and turned 
 over the leaves of the Bible. " I think the finest 
 illustration of fair-mindedness in all the world is 
 in this Book," and Beth read impressively the 
 story of the men who brought a woman to Christ, 
 and accusing her, said, "According to the law she 
 should be stoned," and of how He listened to them 
 and then said, " You are right ; according to the 
 law and your testimony, she should be stoned. 
 You have brought her here. You are prosecuting 
 the case. You are the witnesses. On the testi- 
 mony submitted, she stands convicted. Now, be 
 your own executioners. Let the man among you 
 that is without sin, cast the first stone." 
 
 Beth then read of how the Master stooped down 
 and wrote on the ground, and when He had fin- 
 ished and looked up, every one of the men who 
 had testified against the woman had fled. She 
 read the verses that tell how He turned to the
 
 BETH AND JEAN 223 
 
 woman and asked her where her accusers were. 
 " Hath no man stoned thee? " He asked. " None, 
 Master," she replied. " Neither do I condemn 
 thee; go and sin no more." 
 
 As Beth closed the Book, she said, " I tell you, 
 Jean, that is the finest illustration of justice in the 
 world. Theologians may scrap all they want to 
 about the divinity of Jesus. I am for Him! I 
 love Him ! He is your Friend and mine ! " 
 
 Replacing the Book on the table, she said, " It's 
 a long time since that happened. After two thou- 
 sand years, we aren't within a million ages of its 
 spirit. Christ said, ' Go and sin no more,' and 
 opened a door of hope. We say * Go ' and lock 
 her out!" 
 
 Jean sighed, as Beth concluded. " I am glad 
 you have been such a friend to Amy," she said. 
 " I can see how she could trust you, knowing that 
 there was room in your heart for forgiveness and 
 recovery." 
 
 " The best of us wouldn't get very far if our 
 friends were otherwise ! " said Beth. " When 
 people are ambushed into wrong doing, that is one 
 story; but when a man like Brunner deliberately 
 plans the wrecking of a life, and then tries by half 
 the truth to cover his wickedness, that is another 
 story. That sort of thing isn't new; it was old in 
 Sodom and Gomorrah." 
 
 As Beth concluded, she went into the dining- 
 room and began to set the table for the evening
 
 224 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 meal. There were the white cloth, the glass, the 
 china, the silver, all agleam beneath the light of 
 the table lamp. 
 
 Holding a gold-lined goblet in her hand which 
 she had taken from the sideboard, she said, "Down 
 at the well, hanging on a chain is an old cup. 
 There are holes in the bottom of it, and the iron 
 in the water has eaten half of it away: but if I 
 wanted a drink of water and I had this goblet and 
 that cup, and if the inside of the goblet were full 
 of dust, I'd take the old tin cup with the water 
 running out of the bottom and spattering on the 
 rocks and over my feet. I'd take the tin cup be- 
 cause it is clean. When I think of that man 
 Brunner, and the life he leads, I'm angry! " 
 
 For a long time, Beth and Jean sat in silence, in 
 the gathering twilight. They had enjoyed many 
 such talks together, wherein they were accustomed 
 to speak very frankly about the concerns and in- 
 terests of life. 
 
 "Away back in the shadowy corners of the heart 
 of every woman," said Jean, " there is a deep, ear- 
 nest longing for love and home. Not many of us 
 admit this, even to our friends. Just why, I do 
 not know. We go through the years pretending 
 that we do not care, but all the while our hearts 
 ache at the sight of a fireside. As the longing 
 grows, so also caution and questioning and fear in- 
 crease. It leaves a void and an aching. It is 
 weakness, I suppose, to speak as I am doing, but
 
 BETH AND JEAN 225 
 
 with the right man on one side of a table and the 
 right woman on the other side of the table, you 
 have all the happiness this side of heaven! I'm 
 not sure that heaven itself contains anything bet- 
 ter." 
 
 A steady hand fell on Jean's shoulder, and she 
 looked up into Duke's face. " Ready to sing ? " 
 he asked her. " Creighton has to go to the city, 
 unexpectedly. Beth and I are going to the Inn 
 with you." 
 
 " Yes," said Jean, with the smile she could al- 
 ways command. And presently the three left for 
 the Inn where Jean was to take part in a benefit 
 concert.
 
 XVII 
 TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL 
 
 DURING the days Quinn spent with the 
 monk going over the manuscripts, he was 
 very happy. A new spirit seemed to 
 possess him. A new power had come into his life. 
 He thought often of Creighton and his work. He 
 thought also of Mrs. Morrison, the missionary 
 teacher. He was surprised to find himself mak- 
 ing plans to join her and build the children's hos- 
 pital she needed! 
 
 But always he thought of Jean. He sincerely 
 and truly loved her. He had known many women, 
 but Jean was the one he loved. Wordsworth's 
 tribute came often to mind: once he had thought 
 her " not too good for human nature's daily food." 
 But now, he remembered she was bright, with 
 something of an angel's light, and she had a sensi- 
 tive gift for sentiment and the golden quality men 
 call charm. He knew Jean loved him, knew she 
 must be mourning for him as dead. But as he 
 wondered hoped, he shared his hopes and his 
 wonder with the old monk who listened to his 
 story, listened without comment, like a man en- 
 thralled ! 
 
 226
 
 TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL 227 
 
 As he sat, according to his habit, one afternoon, 
 considering the past, and waiting for the monk to 
 join him, one of the brothers approached him and, 
 in haste and deep concern, said: 
 
 " I beseech you, come with me," and without 
 waiting for a reply, started toward the monastery. 
 
 Quinn arose and followed the brother, who hur- 
 ried down the path and through the door. 
 
 " Your friend has come," the brother remarked 
 to the monk, as Quinn drew near the cot on which 
 his friend was lying. 
 
 The monk turned his head, ever so little, and 
 seeing Quinn, his face brightened. 
 
 Quinn looked about the quiet room; then he set 
 about making it as comfortable as possible. He 
 saw at once he was in the presence of a stricken 
 man. While he was thus engaged, the door opened 
 and a company of men of the order entered the 
 room and gathered about the cot. They waited 
 upon their lay brother with the utmost solicitude. 
 In a devout, reverent manner, they administered 
 the last rites. 
 
 Quinn waited, wondering what would follow. 
 
 After the prayers, in which the monks united, 
 the prior arose, withdrawing from the room; the 
 others followed, and Quinn found himself again 
 alone with his friend. 
 
 As he waited, Quinn tried to realize all it must 
 have meant to the man before him to spend his life 
 in the midst of such surroundings. He shuddered
 
 228 VINDICATION OF KOBEKT CEEIGHTON 
 
 at the thought of all the plodding years ! Sleeping 
 cold, at night, in a chilly cell! Arising at early 
 morning for chapel, while it was dark! And, 
 cold, to sit and listen to the prior discoursing on 
 the virtue of a humble spirit ! Again Ouinn shud- 
 dered as he thought. He remembered how, not a 
 week before, he had seen the monk sitting in the 
 chapel in contemplation; his arms folded in his 
 sleeves, his chin resting on his breast, his face half 
 hidden in his cowl. There was a brooding light in 
 his eyes, and when the service was over, he went 
 alone down the aisle and knelt at the steps of the 
 altar. 
 
 " I thought I was going," the monk said, recall- 
 ing Ouinn to the present, and, opening his eyes, 
 " But I am glad you are here," he said. " I have 
 come back, but not for long. God was good, in 
 His mercy, to send you to me. But there is still a 
 secret buried in my heart. Once, I thought I 
 might share it with you, but you will find it in the 
 manuscripts. Every word was written in the pres- 
 ence of one who shares my secret in the glory of 
 an unbroken fellowship ! Every line breathes of a 
 love and comfort no language could express ! " 
 
 The monk paused for breath. 
 
 " Here is no dwelling place," he continued, " but 
 our Master has given us a promise of mansions of 
 everlasting bliss. My heart aches for them ! " 
 
 Quinn felt the power of the situation. 
 
 " You see, my son, we have nothing to say about
 
 TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL 229 
 
 our coming, and little enough to say about going 
 out of life. The beginning and the end of it are in 
 other hands. We are creatures of fixed order; 
 but between fixed points, we live in a world of 
 freedom, of large liberty, among great issues, 
 choosing, accepting, rejecting in life at will. 
 
 " Had we foreseen our coming into life, we 
 might have said, ' We do not know the country we 
 must journey through,' and feared to make the 
 adventure. But when we awoke to living, we 
 found a father's strength, a mother's love, home, 
 friends, at least a world so well adapted to meet 
 our needs that we loved it. Where is the man of 
 us ready and eager to die? But who would place 
 his choice above the Father's who swings the 
 night seasons at His bidding, and gives us leave to 
 sleep when He makes the night? The birds have 
 nests, God willing, and a heaven to fly in, and 
 when their flight is over, leave to stay. We are of 
 greater value than they, Christ told us. What 
 man would not anticipate the place prepared for 
 him! 
 
 " Often, my son, the 'beloved John seemed work- 
 ing with me, and when I toiled, I seemed to see 
 him leaning over a parchment, beside me. With 
 trembling finger, he wrote his story, his face rapt, 
 and persuasive ; his hair like almond blossoms ; his 
 eyes like somber stars; always his lips were smil- 
 ing; sometimes he lifted his hands to shade his 
 eyes, and then with vision clarified, he looked back
 
 230 VUTOICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 through the years to the time he was a fisherman, 
 and to the day on which he heard the Master's 
 voice. Often he seemed still listening to the Mas- 
 ter's words, as once he hearkened at the cross, re- 
 ceiving the commission to ' go into all the world.' 
 Then I have thought I could hear him say, as he 
 finished the parchment, * It is a blessed story ; but I 
 can't write it all down. Jesus did many things not 
 written here, but these I have chosen to write that 
 men might know that Jesus is the Christ, and so 
 believing, might have life through faith ! ' 
 
 " We learn much from books, my son," the 
 monk continued, after a pause, " but there are les- 
 sons which no book can teach us, things which 
 every man must find out for himself. There is a 
 mingled joy and pain in finding one's self, and the 
 experience it brings is wonderful because it is our 
 own. It is well to compare our own lives with the 
 lives of other men. They are our teachers, and 
 often put into words our own experiences far bet- 
 ter than we could have done it for ourselves." 
 
 There was a long silence ; the monk had spoken 
 with effort, and with many intermissions; he now 
 continued: "In my younger days, life was hard 
 with me, as I have already told you. I found 
 more misery than joy. Honours? The world 
 could give me none. Emptiness and despair 
 these were mine. I sickened in my heart. I knew 
 not what to think, nor what to do, and thus a subtle 
 combination of strength and weakness held me,
 
 TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL 231 
 
 when I staggered to this place. My studies 
 brought me much comfort. But above all else, I 
 learned that we can never gain the light by analyz- 
 ing the qualities of darkness. The only way to 
 know His secret is to yield ourselves to Him. I 
 wanted the knowledge of a God to do the work of 
 a man. I wanted to know all things before I acted 
 on any one! I could not think about any one 
 thing without thinking about them all, and when 
 I was about to act, some new thought held me 
 back. 
 
 " Thus, I gave over to the mind what was meant 
 for the will. I was a long time learning this, my 
 son. It took me a long time to see that we are 
 made to grapple. Without will power, the finest 
 intellectual gifts avail us very little. We must 
 think, but we must also act. Thinking is only 
 perilous when it is severed from action. Not to 
 decide is worse than not to think. This life is 
 only a beginning, but we must begin, and the 
 knowledge we have that our lives are too vast to 
 be exhausted by earth's brief action is the strong- 
 est witness to the reality of spiritual laws and 
 forces, and our need of contact with them. When 
 I saw this, I saw the way clear. It had never oc- 
 curred to me that I was to give, to serve, to do. 
 
 " * Loss of self crowns,' a voice whispered to 
 me, and I threw my life into the great ocean of 
 God's eternal purpose and lost it, only to find it 
 again, pure, bright, bounteous. My son, remem-
 
 232 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 berthis! Remember it! Life is the great begin- 
 ning. It is a bitter draught for proud hearts, but 
 He whose training at serving cost Him His life, 
 told us that ' he that saveth his life shall lose it, 
 and he that loseth his life shall find it.' ' 
 
 The monk spoke heavily, brokenly, but with sol- 
 emn emphasis. His words flashed upon Quinn's 
 inner being the light of a faith that looks through 
 death, and as he bent over the monk in an effort to 
 relieve him, unconsciously he said a prayer. 
 
 " I shall not have long to be with you here, my 
 son," the monk continued. " The oil of life has 
 burned low, and the earth light will soon go out. 
 Last night, my heart seemed almost to deny me 
 service; it seemed to me it stopped. I seemed to 
 myself a disembodied soul. Thus I lay, until with 
 the coming of the dawn, my brothers noted that I 
 was not at prayers. One more such ebb of the 
 tide will carry me away." 
 
 Quinn saw the end was near. 
 
 But the monk seemed not to think of death. 
 There are souls so kingly, that we feel that death 
 is incapable to touch them. When he comes, he 
 comes as a servant to remove the hindrances, and 
 break the narrow limits of time. And when they 
 go, they go with such a wealth of being that those 
 who watch their going are made brave with a de- 
 sire to accompany them. 
 
 What a manifest crown of glory rested upon the 
 head of the monk! What power of giving was
 
 TWILIGHT AND EVENING BELL 233 
 
 there! How wide to all that pointed Godward 
 was the gloomy cell! What kingly relationships! 
 What spiritual power ! What beauty, moderation, 
 submission and communion! How clear and 
 peaceful and how undisturbed! 
 
 Above them, the bell tower of the monastery re- 
 flected the departed glory of the Roman world and 
 held the atmosphere of days gone by. Behind 
 them, the grim walls and the pine trees shaded the 
 paths, where in meditation, the monk had so often 
 walked in deep reflection. Around them, the sea 
 was lapping on the sands, a swelling tide of music, 
 holding a meaning deeper than itself. 
 
 What a shrine was this old place for weary pil- 
 grims, whose lives, like the monk's, were broken 
 by rocks of rugged circumstances! How many 
 men had come here, sore beleaguered, seeking and 
 finding peace and spiritual rest ! 
 
 But now the storm was over the thunders have 
 ceased the lightnings have vanished. The eclipse 
 of fear and doubt and pain is over. The wind 
 that had been roaring has died down. The sea 
 that had been raging sings a peaceful song. The 
 outer world that had bulked so largely dulls away 
 and fades from sight. The beams of the setting 
 sun strike gently through the little iron-barred 
 windows and quiver on the wall like gold on water. 
 
 It was the hour of twilight the time for the 
 evening bell. 
 
 For a long time the monk was silent, then he
 
 234 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 kissed the crucifix, and folding his hands close 
 over it, he held it to his heart. Ouinn noted a 
 movement of the lips and, leaning forward, heard 
 the monk engage in prayer: 
 
 " Make his sins easier to bear through Thy for- 
 giveness." 
 
 " Make his woes to draw near to an end." 
 
 " Lead him to his heart's desire." 
 
 " Bring them together in deep, high, holy love 
 as man and woman on earth, as saints in heaven." 
 
 " Comfort " the voice sank into a very faint 
 whisper. 
 
 " Comfort all Thy " the words were no 
 
 longer audible. 
 
 As Quinn sat wrapped in reverent meditation, 
 one of the brothers came into the room and rested 
 his hand on his shoulder. Through the tears that 
 blinded him, Ouinn looked upon the countenance 
 of his friend and noted the peaceful smile around 
 the lips. 
 
 Then he heard the monks' chorus chanting the 
 Sanctus from the mass of St. Cecelia: 
 
 " Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus, 
 
 Sanctus Deus Sabaoth. 
 
 Hosanna! Hosanna! 
 
 In Excelsis." 
 
 The little lamp on the table was burning very 
 low. There was no sound save the murmur of 
 the evening breezes among the turrets of the 
 monastery. All was still.
 
 XVIII 
 
 MISSION INN 
 
 THE California southland has been called 
 " the land of heart's desire," not only be- 
 cause of its blue skies and perfume-laden 
 air, but because of the spirit of romance to which 
 the old Franciscans gave expression in a series of 
 missions which they built at day-long intervals, 
 along the sunset trail. The dominant characteris- 
 tics of the missions the tile roof, the cloistered 
 walk, the stately arch have been incorporated in 
 many buildings here. Such an one is the Mission 
 Inn. 
 
 The enclosure that forms the entrance to the 
 Inn is shaded with trees. Between the walks and 
 lawns are tropical plants. Orange trees, bearing 
 at once their fruit and their fragrant blossoms, 
 here and there, make golden the grounds. Every- 
 thing in the enclosure suggests some beauty and 
 restfulness. The gray walls of the Inn are cov- 
 ered with trellises, and from under these, the win- 
 dows look out with an air of gentle dignity. 
 
 Once inside, the visitor might think himself in 
 some baronial hall. There are choir stalls to the 
 right and at the back, old chairs in the center, 
 
 235
 
 236 VINDICATION OF ROBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 while banners of crimson brocade and yellow gold 
 float from the balustrades. All this combines to 
 throw over one an atmosphere of far-away times. 
 Back of the stairs that extend across the front of 
 the hall and to the right is a great organ, and be- 
 yond, at the end of the hall, three radiant windows 
 tell the story of St. Cecelia. 
 
 Every afternoon and evening the organ is 
 played, and on special occasions, musicians come 
 from far and near and give an evening of such 
 music as only great artists can give. 
 
 The audience had gathered in the lobby and 
 were slipping into the chairs and pews in the music 
 room. Jean was to sing. She had received many 
 overtures from managers, but she had chosen to 
 sing to the men in Creighton's camp; and as the 
 people assembled, she was the topic of conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Why doesn't she do the real thing? " " Why 
 does a woman with her voice waste her time with 
 that bunch of dirt heavers up in the mountains ? " 
 These were some of the questions and comments 
 that Beth and Duke overheard as they sat in a 
 dimly lighted corner in the rear of the room. 
 
 " She's all right," Duke whispered to Beth after 
 he heard the first note of Jean's opening song. 
 " She has herself in hand. And when she's right 
 
 well, she's right " and the applause of the 
 
 audience attested Duke's judgment. 
 
 After Jean had concluded her program, she
 
 MISSION INK 237 
 
 walked along the cloister way, through the lobby, 
 and turning to the left, sauntered along a walk 
 that led to a seat near the St. Francis fountain. 
 As she sat in the retreating nook, the peace fulness 
 of the scene fell upon her spirit like a benediction. 
 The moon was shimmerkig through the trees; the 
 fountain was murmuring its way into the basin 
 where lilies were blossoming; and in the water, 
 rolling over the rocks, Jean heard the far-away 
 song of the sea. She reviewed again the chapter 
 of her life that was steeped in the tender glow of a 
 loving memory. Through the open window of 
 her soul, thoughts came and departed. Upon the 
 altar of her hidden life, the fire of a joyful sorrow, 
 that at once warmed and burned, was glowing. 
 Then she returned to the present only to find that 
 her reverie left her in bewilderment. At length 
 through her heart seemed to pass a shadowed 
 eagerness like the dying, yet living, pulse of a 
 great hope, and a dream, at once a joy and a sor- 
 row, seemed to take shape. Never had she sung 
 better than she had that evening. She needed no 
 friends to tell her so. There was a mingling of 
 melody and yearning, of joy and pathos, always in 
 her voice always she carried herself and her au- 
 dience to Heaven's gate with the magic of her art. 
 And while she sang, she could be cheerful, inspir- 
 ing and triumphant. But once alone, now as al- 
 ways, the reaction came, and she lost herself as 
 always, brooding on the mystery of her trou-
 
 238 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 ble, a mystery that threatened to darken her 
 life. 
 
 And, as was often the case, it was the thought 
 of Creighton that gave her back to comfort in her- 
 self ! Only a few hours ago Creighton had told 
 her good-bye. He had wished her success in her 
 concert, and said he was sorry he found it impos- 
 sible to be present. He was always kind, no mat- 
 ter how busy ! Always sympathetic ! And he had 
 a way, some way, always to bring order out of 
 even the most unusual situations. " We all need 
 faith and charity more of it in our hearts," he 
 had told her once. " Who of us lives by success 
 alone? Life is achievement through struggle." 
 And then he had told her of a man he once knew 
 who declared that Here was Hereafter. He knew 
 it, for he walked in spiritual hell ! He said he was 
 burnt off to the knees. "And I remember at that 
 time," Creighton had concluded, " that I realized 
 I was with him, with this difference I was in to 
 the hips but I was standing, and fighting, on my 
 feet." 
 
 Quieted by Creighton's influence and realizing 
 at last that she needed sleep, Jean started for her 
 room and found Duke looking for her. 
 
 " Beth has gone up to bed," he told her. "Are 
 you going, too ? " 
 
 Jean told him she was, and said good-night. 
 
 For a long time Duke sauntered about the lobby. 
 Several times he looked over the register, for lack
 
 MISSION INN 239 
 
 of something better to do. It was midnight when 
 he went to bed. 
 
 He was sleeping fitfully, when he was startled 
 into sudden wakefulness by the ring of the tele- 
 phone. 
 
 " Hello ! " said the clerk. " Sorry to wake you. 
 Long distance ! " 
 
 Duke waited. 
 
 Presently a voice exclaimed, " This you, Duke ? 
 Creighton speaking. The boat was late Quinn 
 just landed. No use coming to the Inn. Bring 
 the girls to the Tavern by sun-up. I'll meet you 
 there." 
 
 That was all ! Before Duke had time to speak, 
 Creighton had hung up the receiver. 
 
 Duke looked at his watch, rubbing his eyes. 
 Two o'clock ! He paused a moment as if debating 
 then suddenly taking up the telephone receiver 
 and calling the room clerk, he said, " Give me 583 
 Miss Johnson's room." 
 
 When the bell rang, both Beth and Jean started. 
 Neither had slept soundly. As Beth answered the 
 call, Jean listened. 
 
 " Sorry to get you out, Beth," came Duke's 
 voice over the telephone. " Just had word from 
 Creighton. Quinn came on the big liner. She 
 was late. Creighton wants us to meet him at 
 sun-up. Tell Jean. Get ready to start at once. 
 I'll get the machine out, and wait for you in the 
 lobby."
 
 240 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CREIGHTON 
 
 "Oh, Jean, Jean!" Beth exclaimed, shivering 
 and trembling in excitement. 
 
 "What's the matter?" Jean asked. "Duke 
 hurt?" 
 
 " No ! " answered Beth, laughing and crying. 
 "No! No! It's Quinn! He's here! He's com- 
 ing! He's home! Get up dress! We leave at 
 once. Duke is waiting. Creighton and Quinn 
 are coming the boat was late he was coming to 
 hear you sing. Duke is waiting, I tell you! 
 Dress! Dress! We are to meet Creighton and 
 Quinn at sunrise ! " 
 
 Jean listened as one dazed. 
 
 " Quinn is on the way with Creighton ! Don't 
 you understand, dear ? He's coming ! He's alive ! 
 Your Quinn's alive and near ! " 
 
 Beth was working as fast as she was talking, 
 and having dressed herself, she proceeded to help 
 Jean, who, unable to speak, seemed as one crushed 
 with silence. 
 
 Less than a hundred miles away, Quinn eyed 
 Creighton as he came out of the telephone booth. 
 
 " Man, you look ten years younger," he said, as 
 they walked away together to enter the automo- 
 bile. Without making a reply, Creighton drove 
 out of the congested quarter, and soon they were 
 speeding away from the harbour, through the city, 
 and out among the hills. 
 
 Between jumps and turns, Quinn told Creighton 
 about the wreck, the lost letter, his experience on
 
 MISSION INN 241 
 
 Patmos, and with the monastery man. There had 
 been no way to cable or get a letter across ; Quinn 
 had come on the boat that would have carried the 
 letter. 
 
 " Mourned me for dead, you say ! " Quinn con- 
 cluded. " Well, I've been buried all right, but I'm 
 here, as you see, and you're here. Where is 
 Jean?" 
 
 But without answering, Creighton kept the car 
 to the road. With a steady hum, they swept 
 around curve after curve, until on the straighter 
 portions of the road, the speedometer indicated 
 forty-five, fifty, fifty-five, fifty-seven, then wa- 
 vered a moment, only to respond to the call of the 
 quivering machine that seemed to cling more 
 closely to the road as the hum of the open cut-out 
 swelled into a resonant blare. Creighton clung to 
 the wheel. The road was a good one. There was 
 none better anywhere in the world. Orange 
 groves, packing houses, white ranch houses hidden 
 in gardens were glimpsed in the dark, flashed and 
 were gone as the wind whistled about the men and 
 died away in their wake. On through the canyon 
 they shot, then out into the open again, over 
 stretches of sand that had blown across the road, 
 and past vineyards, with an occasional machine 
 veering wildly to escape them. 
 
 Just as the gray streaks in the eastern sky 
 heralded the coming of the morning, they reached 
 the Tavern.
 
 242 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CREIGHTON 
 
 " I told Duke to meet us here at sun-up," 
 Creighton said, getting out of the machine, " and 
 he's generally on time." 
 
 And then as Quinn looked down the road, he 
 saw an automobile round the bend. 
 
 With a shout, he sprang forward to meet it; 
 before it stopped, he was on the running board, 
 and in his arms, Jean was lifted down, and as he 
 held her close to his heart and looked into her eyes 
 of loving wonder, he saw her awake to the joyous 
 realization that her prayers had been answered. 
 He tried to speak, but he smiled instead. Who 
 could speak, he thought to himself, at a time like 
 this when he read in Jean's joyous loveliness how 
 happy she was. 
 
 Then the light of the morning streamed over 
 them. In a near-by orange tree, a mocking bird 
 was singing. It was a new world fresh from 
 the hand of God. Then suddenly the four seemed 
 anointed with the gift of tongues. They were 
 talking each in turn all at once explaining, 
 expostulating, putting fragments together to make 
 a connected story. 
 
 Presently they thought of Creighton, but when 
 they looked around for him, he .was not to be seen. 
 The automobile in which he had brought Quinn 
 had also disappeared. On entering the Tavern, 
 they learned from the landlord that Creighton had 
 left for the camp. 
 
 Creighton found himself driving at topmost
 
 MISSION INN 243 
 
 speed, as he headed his car toward the camp. 
 Then it suddenly occurred to him that he was out 
 of sight of the Tavern, and he slowed down. He 
 thought of the mad race he had made to reach 
 the place at sun-up. He had wanted to bring 
 Quinn and Jean together after their long separa- 
 tion, and he had thought how he would share their 
 happiness. Then he suddenly felt as an outsider. 
 In Jean's happiest hour, and Quinn' s, it dawned 
 upon him that he was not needed, that hereafter 
 she would turn to Quinn, not to him. He felt 
 bereft. 
 
 As thus he travelled and pondered, he found 
 himself turning over in his mind the story of 
 Pheidippides who, ages ago, left pasture and flock 
 and ran to Sparta for aid, in the day when Persia 
 had come to invade and conquer Athens. Through 
 the stubble, over the hills, down the dales, between 
 city and city, he raced like fire, and breaking into 
 the council of Sparta, exclaimed, " Persia has 
 come, demanding tribute ! Stretch forth the hand 
 and help ! " But Sparta deliberated. There was 
 no response. He saw faces leer in mistrust, and 
 eyes glitter in envy ! " Athens is threatened ! " he 
 shouted again. " The issue is mighty ! Persia has 
 come ! Will Sparta befriend ? " 
 
 Then as he saw that there would be no re- 
 sponse to his appeal, a blaze ran through his blood, 
 and back over hills and plains he went heavy- 
 hearted. In the cool of a cleft, he saw a man with
 
 244 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 hoofs and horns, the great god, Pan. " Why do 
 you weep, Pheidippides ? Why are you so sorrow- 
 ful? When the hour of battle comes, I shall be 
 present. Tell Athens, Persia will be cast into the 
 sea." And when Pheidippides asked, " How may 
 I know ? " Pan answered, " Let this be the 
 pledge," and handed him a sprig of fragrant fen- 
 nel. And when the day came in which the Per- 
 sians sailed up to Marathon, and all Athens went 
 forth to do battle, Pheidippides shouted, 
 " Wherever this fennel may grow, I shall fight 
 with the foremost." And as they reached the sea 
 lo, a miracle! A mighty shout arose, for they 
 saw all the sandy field green with fennel Persia 
 was overwhelmed Athens saved ! 
 
 And when the Athenians cried, " What honours 
 are yours!" Pheidippides answered, lifting his 
 eyes from the ground, " I shall marry a maid I 
 know keeps faith, then go to my house, and when 
 my children stand about my knee, I will recount 
 how God was kind. But first, let me run one more 
 race on to Acropolis and say 'Athens is saved.'" 
 And he flung down his shield and ran a race no 
 man has ever made since from the fennel fields 
 to Athens. " Rejoice ! We conquer ! " he cried. 
 "Athens is saved ! " and as he shouted the message 
 of deliverance, his heart broke he died, happy 
 forever. 
 
 Creighton pondered the story. Since the days 
 of Pheidippides, men have run the Marathon. To
 
 MISSION INN 245 
 
 Creighton, it seemed as if his life was a dreary 
 coming down an enduring he had no proud tid- 
 ings to tell no glorious ending. Again he saw 
 Jean and the man she loved, the morning light 
 breaking about them, and here he was by force 
 of circumstances driven away from their happi- 
 ness. Once he turned to look back, and as the sun- 
 light fell across his countenance, a passer-by saw 
 his face and wondered at it. It was colourless, 
 yet his eyes were radiant with a hidden glory.
 
 XIX 
 THE RANGER'S CABIN 
 
 ALONG with Jean, Beth and Duke, Quinn 
 was back again among the familiar scenes 
 of his boyhood, at home once more in his 
 beloved mountains, sauntering again along the 
 trails he had traversed so many times in the clays 
 of his youth. 
 
 Soon after his arrival, it was announced that the 
 film was released that depicted the work of the 
 great engineering project, and that it was going to 
 be thrown upon the screen that evening. 
 
 After supper, in the gathering darkness, the men 
 came streaming into the movie room of the hut to 
 see the pictures, and as the reel unwound, showing 
 every department of the work the dam with its 
 wonderful spillways, the check dams far up in the 
 mountains, the tunnel work, the lateral ditches, the 
 camp equipment, the men at work, and the back- 
 ground of mountain scenery there was applause 
 and evident satisfaction. 
 
 When the different groups of men were pre- 
 sented to view, each in turn cheered the others. 
 Sam and his tunnel gang were lustily applauded. 
 Swen and Duke were loudly cheered. But the cli- 
 
 246
 
 THE EANGEE'S CABIN 247 
 
 max of it all came when Creighton, clad in khaki 
 suit, holding his sombrero in his hand, bowed 
 graciously to the audience from the screen, and 
 waved to the men as if to give them credit for the 
 achievement. Most assuredly, Quinn thought, he 
 did not look as if, by any possibility, the spectre 
 of his prison life could rise and throw him down, 
 still 
 
 But it was a great occasion! It meant more 
 than a local triumph in engineering skill. It meant 
 a lesson to the world, for the film was to be shown 
 throughout the country. 
 
 After the men had dispersed, Quinn and Jean 
 walked along the trail to Inspiration Point. Here 
 they stood, looking down upon the velvet black- 
 ness in the valley. Lights from the cities sparkled 
 in the gloom. Above them, the stars were shining. 
 So absorbed were they that, before they were 
 aware of it, the stars faded from the sky, the 
 lights below dimmed, and a black storm drew its 
 curtain over the world. 
 
 In the distance, the clouds had been gathering. 
 Away in the heights was heard the challenge of 
 their approach, and before a man could think, the 
 wind blew, the thunder crashed, the lightning 
 gleamed, the rain beat down, and the storm was 
 upon them. Involuntarily, Quinn rummaged in 
 his pocket for a flashlight, but he knew in a mo- 
 ment it was not there. Inwardly, he protested. 
 " Will the world ever keep right ? " he said to him-
 
 248 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 self, and then in the darkness, he fancied he saw 
 Jean's cheek, delicate as a rose, and he was glad 
 glad with the joy of living. 
 
 Still, Quinn knew what these storms meant. 
 They meant cloudbursts in the mountains and 
 floods in the valley, and he knew that before long 
 the mountain streams, wild and turbulent, would 
 be carrying underbrush, wood, and trees headlong 
 down the mountainside. And as the storm came 
 charging through the skies, flinging defiance into 
 the heights, and evoking the spirits of the hills, 
 Quinn drew Jean to him and kissed her cool wet 
 face. 
 
 Quinn knew that they were not far from the 
 cabin of one of the mountain rangers. " If we can 
 reach it," he said, " we can find shelter." As the 
 lightnings gleamed, lighting up the mountainside, 
 Quinn noted where the path to the cabin left the 
 trail. "If we can find the way down the slope to 
 the bridge that crosses the ravine, we will be all 
 right," he said, as they groped their way through 
 the darkness. Now the lightning blinded them, 
 then the gloom enveloped them, and all the while 
 the rain fell in torrents upon them. 
 
 To keep to the main trail was not so difficult, 
 but having left it, they found themselves skidding 
 down the steep, narrow path as the wet earth gave 
 way beneath their feet, and a flood of water cut 
 the ground from under them. Somehow, they 
 never knew just how, they came to a place where,
 
 THE EANGEE'S CABIN 249 
 
 in the darkness, Jean involuntarily stretched forth 
 her hand, and as she did so, a cry of joy escaped 
 her lips, " This is the post this is the end of the 
 cable here is the rope this is the foot bridge ! " 
 
 Quinn felt his way through the darkness, slip- 
 ping one hand along the cable and holding Jean 
 with the other. The bridge swayed in the gale. 
 Beneath them roared the waters; above them was 
 the gloom and terror of the storm; and around 
 them the pelting rain that drenched them. At 
 times it seemed to them that the bridge would 
 surely snap as it was lifted by the storm, then as 
 suddenly thrown down again. Thus, they strug- 
 gled on until they reached the opposite side, and 
 crawled through mud and rain, up and on to the 
 platform of the cabin. It seemed an age before 
 the lock yielded and the door opened, but Quinn 
 finally succeeded in turning it back, and as he 
 pushed Jean through the door and closed it, the 
 thunders crashed again, the lightning flared, and 
 the rain beat on the sounding door behind them. 
 
 For a moment they stood within the cabin wait- 
 ing until their eyes became accustomed to the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 " You are trembling," Quinn said, with his arm 
 about her. 
 
 " Yes," she replied. " I am wet and cold, as 
 you are, but I'm not afraid. I was afraid on the 
 bridge; and I thought of the Norman, but with 
 you, I was happy."
 
 260 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 A small stock of provisions is a part of the 
 equipment of a ranger's cabin, also fuel and cloth- 
 ing for just such emergencies. Flood and fire 
 must be met, fought and overcome. In the fire- 
 place, therefore, kindling and logs were in readi- 
 ness, and when Ouinn struck a match and the 
 cones began to burn, as they crackled and snapped, 
 the flames glared and glowed around the logs, 
 and presently a sense of comfort pervaded the 
 place. 
 
 Quinn put Jean in a chair, into which he had 
 thrown a skin, and as he drew it before the fire- 
 place, for the moment the lover vanished in the 
 physician, and he wrapped a blanket about her 
 shoulders. " Breathe deeply," he said, as he 
 knelt before her and unlaced her boots. 
 
 As they sat there steaming, and steam they did, 
 before the kindly fire, they laughed and talked far 
 into the night. 
 
 " This makes me think of the monastery," said 
 Ouinn at one time, after a pause. " In the 
 shadows, the old pictures form again. Sometime 
 I am going to tell you all about my monastery 
 man. It is a story of love and banishment and 
 troubled times, and a man unafraid all of the 
 elements of a great tragedy. But I don't want to 
 talk about him now. Saints are interesting, but 
 they are poor substitutes for a girl," and Ouinn 
 again kissed her tenderly. 
 
 " Love, banishment, a troubled time, and a brave
 
 THE KANGEK'S CABIN 251 
 
 man," mused Jean, as her mood changed. " I 
 wonder if you know what that means." 
 
 " I think I do," Quinn replied, " but what I want 
 to know now is, what you thought about while I 
 was gone." 
 
 " Oh, the solace for a broken heart is occupa- 
 tion," said Jean. " The nuns find peace in their 
 ministries. Your monastery man found his in his 
 studies. Mine came in music at first. Through it, 
 I understood my own heart, all hearts. Always, a 
 great tenderness filled me, for when I sang, I sang 
 to you, and I was comforted, not by the applause 
 of the audience, but by the great assurance that 
 you loved me. That gave me strength; but for 
 that I should have died. 
 
 " You had gone down bravely into the depths 
 of the sea," she continued, presently, " refusing to 
 abandon the ship, they said, but somehow I was 
 not alone. I lived as though you were near, with 
 your hand in mine." Jean's eyes were dark with 
 tears. " I never saw a splendid dawn, a sunset 
 I was never thrilled, I never sensed the fragrance 
 of a flower but I seemed to share them all with 
 you. 
 
 " So I lived, seeking always to find solace by 
 blessing and inspiring others. But I suffered, no 
 one will ever know how much, and I battled God 
 only knows how hard." 
 
 As Quinn listened, and looked at the beloved, 
 trusting girl beside him, he saw things in a new
 
 252 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CBEIGHTON 
 
 light. Jean had put into the days of their separa- 
 tion a devotion that thrilled him. He had under- 
 gone physical suffering while adrift on the raft. 
 It was not physical suffering that Jean had under- 
 gone it was the heart of her. 
 
 And then, looking into Ouinn' s eyes, Jean said, 
 after a long pause, " I shall never forget Aunt 
 Miriam. At the last she saved me from despair 
 and madness. She took me to her heart and loved 
 me. I remember how one day as we were talking 
 about you, she said, ' Jean, you ought to be thank- 
 ful.' ' Thankful !' I cried. 'Aunt Miriam, don't 
 you understand I've lost everything? Quinn's 
 gone ! ' ' Yes, I know,' she replied, * I know he's 
 gone, but how ! You didn't lose your man in any 
 vulgar way.' Then she opened the Bible and read 
 ' He that dwelleth in the secret place of the 
 Most High shall abide under the shadow of the 
 Almighty.' ' He shall give His angels charge con- 
 cerning thee.' * He shall keep thee in all thy 
 ways.' ' Don't try to figure it out,' she said ; ' just 
 take it as it is, and it will prove itself to you. You 
 have lost a hero and gained his memory.' ' 
 
 Ouinn became thoughtful. Jean had come into 
 a sense of religious trust in a woman's tender emo- 
 tional way. It came as a challenge to him. If 
 God did that for Jean, Ouinn was bound to be 
 grateful. Was he in a frame of mind duly to ap- 
 preciate this? To Quinn, the experience of the 
 race was the guide of man. Then it occurred to
 
 THE BANGER'S CABIN 253 
 
 him that if this were true, then Jean's experience 
 had to be reckoned with, and there flashed upon 
 him Wordsworth's words " Trailing clouds of 
 glory do we come from God, who is our home." 
 And the conviction seized him that life is not so 
 very different from what it has been since the be- 
 ginning of history. 
 
 As they sat in silence before the fire, Quinn 
 found himself comparing the triangle which his 
 life and the monk's and Jean's presented. The 
 monastery man was concerned with the meaning 
 of existence; Quinn with the means of existence; 
 Jean with the heart of it. The monastery man 
 wanted to understand; Quinn wanted to experi- 
 ment; Jean trusted. Quinn's world was the nat- 
 ural world; the monastery man had a world ex- 
 ternal to mankind; Jean's was the world within. 
 The monastery man sought a comprehension of 
 truth; Quinn possessed a keen scent for it; Jean 
 lived by it. Quinn sought the laws of moral health 
 just as he had sought the laws of physical being; 
 the monastery man accepted the ascetic ideal ; Jean 
 was the embodiment of the spirit that is back of 
 all laws and expresses itself in every form of good- 
 ness. The monastery man sought a plan; Quinn 
 wanted facts ; Jean was a pulsing heart. The mon- 
 astery man dealt with causes ; Quinn with effects ; 
 Jean with life. The monastery man defended the 
 old; Quinn the new; Jean the eternal order. The 
 monastery man thought of the sacred; Quinn of
 
 254 VINDICATION OF EGBERT CEEIGHTON 
 
 the secular; Jean of the abiding. To the monas- 
 tery man, God was remote; to Quinn, God was 
 the substance of life; to Jean, He was a comrade 
 in the struggle. The monastery man believed in 
 a divided world; Quinn held that the universe is 
 a unit ; Jean took it to her heart. 
 
 As Quinn made the comparisons, he found him- 
 self taking Jean's position. Aunt Miriam, in her 
 simple way, had been a true interpreter; she had 
 helped Jean to realize that it was God with Whom 
 she was dealing when, in the hour of her despair, a 
 deep peace came to her. Such heroic endurance 
 could only be inspired by the assurance of God's 
 nearness. This conscious acceptance of the mean- 
 ing of life brought a response so satisfying that it 
 could only come from the God of all comfort and 
 grace. Ouinn's moral sense led him to this con- 
 clusion. He knew what Jean thought ; he felt that 
 she was right, and he found himself taking the 
 road with her. As to the future, there was no 
 doubt in his mind. He was Jean's man! With 
 her to love him, he would succeed. They would 
 be happy. Love and progress would go hand in 
 hand with them. 
 
 " Jean, do you remember the first time we 
 walked along the trail out to Inspiration Point? " 
 he said. " Do you recall the winding path with 
 the pine trees and the tangled undergrowth, the 
 moccasin flower with the crimson in its heart? 
 Do you remember the squirrels that scampered
 
 THE BARGEE'S CABIN 255 
 
 across the path, and the birds that sang? I can 
 still smell the bay trees, and feel the mountain air. 
 And Jean, do you recall the fine intimate joy of it 
 all? That joy has never left me. The strange, 
 the tragic, have never disturbed it. Nothing 
 frightened me because I knew I could always touch 
 one hand in love, that there was always one voice 
 that spoke in loyalty." 
 
 Jean's head was against his shoulder. 
 
 " Listen to the storm," she said. " How fine the 
 wind is ! I love it ! It is so defiant, so sure ! " 
 and they listened in silence, as the wind made the 
 cabin tremble, and shivered through the trees, 
 with a voice and a meaning that brought a message 
 to both of their hearts. 
 
 Quinn replenished the fire; then as he resumed 
 his place, Jean said, " Tell me more about your 
 monastery man." 
 
 " I want to," Quinn replied. " I remember how 
 I sat with him and we talked as intimately as you 
 and I. He told me his story: 'All men need a 
 companion, a congenial soul/ he said, ' a trusted 
 friend in whose presence they can shake out their 
 hearts/ He told me how, as a young man, he had 
 fallen in love. How happy they were ! Then be- 
 cause his brother had gone wrong, her family for- 
 bade the marriage. He had gone West, he said, 
 to straighten things out, but all to no purpose. As 
 I recall the story, it's amazing how it parallels with 
 what we know of Creighton, and as I remember
 
 256 VINDICATION OF BOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 it now, the monk looks enough like Creighton to 
 be his double same eyes, same voice ; but then all 
 men who live on a high plane bear a certain re- 
 semblance." 
 
 Thus Quinn went over again the story of the 
 going down of the Norman, the loss of the letter 
 that held the secret of his mission, the monastery, 
 the manuscripts, the monk's fortitude. 
 
 " He seems to live with me. The stream of his 
 life overflows into mine. Such men live by virtue 
 of the power of their goodness. If, as he believed, 
 we have an immortality, we certainly have one 
 here. His cry, wrung from lips of pain, echoes in 
 my mind to-day as clearly as when he spoke to me. 
 His love, achievements, character live in my heart 
 and will live. If matter and force are indestruc- 
 tible, truth and goodness, embodied in a life like 
 the monk's, shine in widening circles of influ- 
 ence. 
 
 " You've got to reach beneath the surface," 
 Quinn concluded, " to get the real facts of a life 
 like his. That old monk's soul was smouldering, 
 but smothered as he was, he never died. That is 
 what impressed me. * There may be people who 
 dream of life as tranquil, with a sky forever blue/ 
 he said one day, ' but you and I know better. Life 
 isn't tranquil, but it may be serene ; it is often wild, 
 but we can make it joyous through fellowship.' ' 
 
 Thus the two lovers talked until they saw the 
 first gray streaks of the morning, and presently
 
 THE RANGER'S CABIN 257 
 
 they beheld the torch bearers of the new day skirt- 
 ing the hills and lighting up the mountain range 
 with dawn. The night was past! Day was at 
 hand!
 
 XX 
 
 THE VINDICATION 
 
 DAY and night, throughout the two weeks 
 of the storm, Creighton, Duke and Sam 
 were with the men inspecting the retain- 
 ing walls, looking over the check dams and care- 
 fully scrutinizing every detail of the work. On 
 the crest of the storm, torrents of water came 
 down the mountainside sweeping everything be- 
 fore it. Any opening that might be made by the 
 silver chisel of the waters would have resulted in 
 stampede. But in every department, the work 
 stood the test, and at last the strain of anxiety gave 
 way to confidence. Sam and Swen had awaited 
 this result with exceptional eagerness. They were 
 interested in the work and they were anxious about 
 the outcome, but another matter held their 
 thoughts with even greater tension. A week be- 
 fore the storm, Creighton had given them leave of 
 absence to go across the range. They wanted to 
 get away for a week or two, they had said, for a 
 jaunt. Then the rains came and it had not been 
 possible for them to go. Now, however, they 
 were on the road. They had left the camp rather
 
 THE VINDICATION 259 
 
 hurriedly, had crossed the range and spent some 
 time with the old prospector, mentioned hereto- 
 fore. 
 
 "Yes," the prospector replied in answer to 
 Sam's inquiry. " Two horses went over the trail 
 a few days ago one white, the other a dark 
 brown. One of the horses was smooth shod," 
 added the old man, as they left him, disappointed 
 that they had apparently no time to sit and talk. 
 
 But over a week had elapsed since Sam and 
 Swen had had the conference with the prospector. 
 They were days of relentless searching. Finally 
 high noon found them sitting by the side of the 
 trail. 
 
 " Dis ban it by de paper," said Swen, waving 
 some directions in his hand, " an dis ban it by de 
 road. Ay tank it sidestep here quick." 
 
 " We are on the right trail and this is the place, 
 but the clue pinches out, as you say," Sam replied. 
 " But that is just the way it should do," he added. 
 "If it was plain as day, everybody would see it. 
 I think I can find the opening we are after," and 
 so saying, he turned aside into the dense wood, 
 working his way through the tangled brush, push- 
 ing on into the deep, thick, gnarled, twisted un- 
 derbrush, that covered the rocks and boulders over 
 which the men stumbled as they went forward in 
 silence. Both men were keen observers and Sam's 
 trained eye told him that, whereas they were off 
 the beaten trail, nevertheless, the branches of the
 
 260 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CREIGHTON 
 
 bushes showed that they had been parted only re- 
 cently by some one who had worked his way 
 through them. They now came to a place where 
 the underbrush was a solid mass of growth. Swen 
 had evidently concluded that it could not be pene- 
 trated and was on the point of turning away, but 
 Sam motioned him to remain, and at the same time 
 he proceeded to separate the bushes and, as best 
 he could, elbow his way between them. Swen fol- 
 lowed him and the two presently found themselves 
 in front of the door of a shack hidden by the 
 shrubbery that grew around and over it. 
 
 Sam knocked, and waited for a reply. In a 
 moment the door opened cautiously and an Indian 
 woman stood before them. As the men entered 
 the room, and the light filtered in after them, they 
 saw a man lying on a cot. He stirred at the sound 
 of their coming, and engaged in a vain attempt to 
 open his eyes. His hair and beard, streaked with 
 gray, were long and unkempt. His blackened lips 
 moved in an effort to speak. He seemed to be 
 trying to relieve his mind, to rid himself of a bur- 
 den which he could no longer bear. 
 
 " Are you Fleck ? " Sam asked. 
 
 But there was no reply. The man lay in silence, 
 his breathing laboured, beads of perspiration on 
 his forehead. He looked like a lean old wolf. It 
 was a terrifying picture! 
 
 While Sam and Swen were looking at the man, 
 the squaw was fussing in the corner, at the foot
 
 THE VINDICATION 261 
 
 of the cot. She now drew forth an envelope from 
 a box and gave it to Sam. " Him say give you," 
 she stammered, pointing to the man on the cot, 
 and trembling, probably under fear of his threats. 
 Possibly he had persuaded the poor thing to join 
 him to help him to escape detection, and look after 
 him in his degradation. For her reward, he had 
 cursed her, likely, threatening her life if she dared 
 to disobey his orders. He must have passed 
 through delirium, raving in the madness of final 
 sickness, and was now settling into coma, when 
 Sam and Swen entered the shack. As the squaw 
 thrust the envelope into Sam's hand, he looked at 
 Fleck, then at Swen, and in disgust, he muttered, 
 " It's him and a squaw man." Then putting the 
 envelope in the pocket of his blouse, he motioned 
 Swen to follow, and they went out of the room, 
 closed the door, worked their way through the un- 
 derbrush, back to the point at which they had left 
 the trail. 
 
 For a long time the men sat in silence, ponder- 
 ing the spectacle they had witnessed. 
 
 " Dis ban bad bizness," Swen said at length. 
 " Ay ain't 'fraid to die if yu go right, but dis man 
 ain't make gude end," and a sense of depression 
 descended on them. 
 
 " I guess you're right, Swen," Sam replied. " I 
 don't know all that was in his mind, but I have a 
 guess. He's getting his ! I thought I might need 
 your fists. But he couldn't travel. I'm glad you
 
 262 VINDICATION OF BOBEBT CBEIGHTON 
 
 came I needed a witness. Now, we'll clean this 
 thing up, quick, and go down to the city for the 
 Judge." 
 
 It was the day before Christmas when Sam and 
 Swen returned to the camp. They were changed 
 men. A new light illuminated their faces. A new 
 joy rilled their hearts. " Dis ban a Merrie Christ- 
 mas," Swen said, as they drew near the office. 
 But they found the office empty, and for the first 
 time it dawned upon them that Christmas was at 
 hand, and that Creighton must be out about the 
 preparations for some celebration. 
 
 " Vat shol ve du ? " Swen asked, rather crest- 
 fallen. 
 
 " Find him," was Sam's reply. 
 
 " He ban hard man tu find." 
 
 " We'll get him," said Sam. 
 
 The watchman at the powder house told them 
 he had seen Creighton returning from the spillway 
 of the big dam. He had stopped at the office for 
 an hour or so, he said, but where he was now, he 
 did not know. 
 
 They found him presently, crossing the dam 
 he was visible in the distance, plainly seen in 
 the rare light of that altitude, but half an hour 
 away. 
 
 A blue haze was creeping into the recess of the 
 mountain, a glow of pink enveloped the sky; the 
 sun was winding a many coloured scarf around 
 the peaks that were covered with snow; the cres-
 
 THE VINDICATION 263 
 
 cent of the moon silvered in the distance, and, one 
 by one, the stars began to shine. 
 
 Swen knew that the country was familiar to 
 Creighton. Years ago, Creighton had made the 
 surveys for the railroads. After the work was 
 done and the entries made, requests for conces- 
 sions were sent to Washington false entries. On 
 these entries, concessions were granted. Of these 
 forgeries, Creighton knew nothing. The reports 
 had been tampered with, without his knowledge. 
 When the Government finally made investigations, 
 Creighton was arrested, and because his name was 
 on the report, he was railroaded into the pen by the 
 scoundrels who had thrown him down to save 
 themselves. 
 
 "A term in prison isn't an excursion," Creigh- 
 ton was saying, talking to himself. " The white 
 space the black floor the green wall the nar- 
 row door the little round peep-hole at the level of 
 a man's eye the row of cells on the other side of 
 the corridor the bang of the doors the darkness 
 and the silence in which you smother and choke 
 and try to stick it out ! An hour like that is longer 
 than eternity ! " 
 
 Creighton paused on the bridge and looked up 
 at the snow on the peaks, glistening in the star- 
 light. The sight carried him through the years to 
 the time when, as a boy, he had been tucked into 
 bed, and lay dreaming of the good Saint who would 
 come down the chimney and fill his stockings!
 
 264 VINDICATION OP EOBEET CREIGHTON 
 
 He recalled the Christmas trees! Christmas was 
 the gladdest day in the year ! And he remembered 
 how, as a young man, one Christmas eve, he lay 
 half sleeping, and the sound of the Christ- 
 mas songs rang out upon the crisp night air and 
 floated in upon his spirit. Then he drifted off 
 to sleep and dreamed a never-to-be-forgotten 
 dream ! 
 
 He seemed to be with the people assembling in 
 a village church, wrapped warmly, and happy with 
 Christmas joy. Inside the church, there was an 
 air of secrecy as if a good joke was to come off. 
 When all had gathered, and were ready to start 
 out, some one stepped to the desk with a roll of 
 white ribbon; with deft fingers, she tied a bow 
 with many loops, and fastened it in the corner of 
 the desk. Bearing with them the roll of ribbon, 
 which unwound as they proceeded, they trooped 
 out and into the sled that awaited them. On they 
 drove, the sleigh bells jingling in the crisp air. As 
 they stopped before the first house, they began to 
 sing, " Oh, little town of Bethlehem ! " 
 
 In his dream, Creighton saw that when they had 
 finished their song, they walked boldly up to the 
 steps and entered the house. Flocking into the 
 living-room, they fastened the broad white ribbon 
 over the mantelpiece, securing it there with a star. 
 Then they went gaily out into the snow again, 
 bearing with them the white roll, which ever un- 
 wound as they went.
 
 THE VINDICATION 266 
 
 At the next house, they sang, " For Christ is 
 born of Mary." No sooner was the verse finished 
 than they stormed the hearthside, securing the bow 
 of white, as before, with a golden star. 
 
 Then on again, the laughing throng went to 
 the next house. Here another carol rang out on 
 the night air. Again the never diminishing ribbon 
 was secured with a golden star over the hearth of 
 the home. 
 
 In his dream, Creighton joined in the songs, and 
 as they heralded their entrance into every home 
 with a carol and a verse of one of the old hymns 
 of Christmas, they fastened the broad white rib- 
 bon with a golden star. This they did until every 
 house in the village had been visited, and every 
 home adorned; not one was omitted none were 
 left out none were too proud, and none too 
 humble to be looped together by the white band 
 that linked from house to house. 
 
 And just as the clock in the steeple pealed out 
 the stroke of midnight, the happy people trooped 
 back into the church from which they had started. 
 At the desk, the ribbon, still unwinding, came to 
 an end! There was just enough to reach to the 
 bow where the end was secured. 
 
 Creighton had been happy that Christmas morn- 
 ing, when at the breakfast table, he told his mother 
 his dream. Since then, he had been through much. 
 And now ! Here he stood, a one time convict, out- 
 side the pale of human love and at Christmas !
 
 266 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CBEIGHTON 
 
 So deeply was Creighton engrossed in these 
 thoughts, that he started when he saw Sam and 
 Swen approaching. They had been away. 
 Creighton knew why! When they reached him, 
 there was an awkward pause. None of them could 
 think of anything to say. There was an oppressive 
 silence, then Sam suddenly came to himself and, 
 taking the letter from his blouse, presented it to 
 Creighton. And they withdrew, without having 
 spoken a word ! 
 
 When the men retraced their steps, Creighton 
 opened the letter. It was growing dark, but, by 
 looking closely, it was still possible to see, and he 
 had good eyes. As he read the letter, his face was 
 good to behold. At last he held what he had 
 longed for; Sam and Swen good, tried, true, 
 loyal friends they were had got it for him, and 
 left him to himself! They had no wish to stand 
 in the reflected glory that shed its rays upon him. 
 Yes, they were real men no parade no intru- 
 sion; they had gone, leaving Creighton to himself 
 with his happiness. 
 
 Then into the stillness of the hour, there came a 
 subtle bitterness. Through the years he had 
 fought this battle. He remembered how when the 
 blow came and the sentence was pronounced upon 
 him, he had offered to set free the one woman he 
 had loved his wife ; and he remembered how she 
 had said, " Is it possible that you do not know me ! 
 I love you more than I did when you were free. I
 
 THE VINDICATION 267 
 
 will wait. I can work." Yes, her love and her 
 faith were the things that saved his reason. But 
 he remembered also how she had hoped against 
 hope, counting the weary hours, until at last she 
 had broken under the strain. The sleepless nights, 
 the despair, the longing, were too much. 
 
 And here was the proof to the world that her 
 love and faith had not been squandered. But in 
 the moment of exoneration, she, whose opinion 
 he valued most, was gone! Where was the God 
 of justice! A wave of rebellion against what had 
 been laid upon him surged through his mind. 
 Again he lived through all the long days of bitter- 
 ness and now what was left ! This this thing 
 he held in his hand what was this relief com- 
 pared to the night of gloom through which he had 
 come? 
 
 Then a wave of desire to share the happiness of 
 his vindication with others with the young peo- 
 ple came upon him. Out of the bitter circum- 
 stances of his past life, he told himself to trust in 
 the unseen, for there was nothing else to do. He 
 remembered how one of the men, at the camp 
 forum, had said that the mighty Kant had spent 
 his life in trying to prove that God did not exist, 
 and at the end, in spite of his life's work, he said, 
 " I do believe." And Creighton believed ! And 
 then the sense of Fatherhood that ever claims its 
 own, claimed him. The days of joy in his own 
 life had gone! But there was Jean! In her hap-
 
 268 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CBEIGHTON 
 
 piness and Quinn's, he might taste the happiness 
 of others. 
 
 Then he thought of Beth's father who had spent 
 a fortune trying to right the wrong done to his 
 friend. So long as he lived, he never gave up the 
 fight. It was he who had left instructions to send 
 Quinn to Patmos with the letter. The letter had 
 been lost; no one would ever know its contents, 
 but Creighton knew its bearings on himself. 
 
 Thus, unconsciously, he found himself turning 
 to the cabin. He had not gone far before he met 
 Quinn and his dog. 
 
 " We're out in search of you," Quinn said. 
 " They sent me to bring you to the cabin to spend 
 Christmas night." 
 
 " Thanks ! " said Creighton. " I'll be glad to go 
 with you, but if you don't mind, let's walk around 
 to the other side of the cabin. I want to talk to 
 you. I've wanted a chance to talk with you alone 
 ever since you came back. There are some things 
 I think you ought to know. 
 
 " You remember the day I met you in the 
 Arroyo! I was desperate. I had reached the 
 limit. But that wasn't my first trip through the 
 Arroyo. Of course you know that your father 
 was the chief ranger of these mountains. Many's 
 the time we had eaten together in the same spot 
 where I met you." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you knew who I was ! " 
 Quinn asked.
 
 THE VINDICATION 269 
 
 " No, I was not sure, and when I found out, 
 you had gone on your mission. Now you're back, 
 thinking you have failed." 
 
 Ouinn looked at Creighton with searching 
 scrutiny. " May I ask you a question ? " he said. 
 " When I was stranded on Patmos, I met the man 
 I told you about. He gave me some manuscripts, 
 asking me to have them printed. He also asked 
 me to look up a brother. He told me the story of 
 the brother's life, and he hinted, as you have just 
 done, that my mission had not failed. The story 
 he told me dovetails marvellously into your life, 
 as I know it, and when I close my eyes and listen 
 to your voice, I imagine it is the monastery man 
 speaking ! " 
 
 Before Quinn could proceed, Creighton inter- 
 posed: "When I was a boy, I had three chums. 
 We four were always together. When we grew 
 to be young men, three of us came West one 
 stayed East, my brother; he had been disap- 
 pointed. Your father was one of the men who 
 came West with me. Beth's father was the other. 
 I was thrown down by a gang and sent up. Your 
 father died years ago. Beth's father fought for 
 me with utter loyalty. Life meant little to us 
 separated. Often he visited me in the prison. 
 When he knew that he was going to die, he said, 
 *I don't want Beth and Jean to be alone. The 
 only one left to take the responsibility of their wel- 
 fare is your brother. I have arranged with the
 
 270 VINDICATION OP BOBEET CREIGHTON 
 
 trust company to send Quinn to bring him back to 
 take his part in the world's work. When he reads 
 the letter, he will come.' You see," Creighton 
 continued, " Beth's father figured that my being a 
 convict, Jean needed some one to back her and 
 he was right." 
 
 Again Quinn sought to speak, but Creighton 
 waved him into silence. 
 
 " I know what you're going to say,'* Creighton 
 continued. " You're going to ask ' why haven't 
 you told this before ? ' Man, there were times 
 when I thought I could no longer keep silent. I 
 remember one day when you were away, Jean 
 came into the office, and as we talked together 
 about you, she said that when she talked to me, it 
 seemed to her that she had always known me, 
 that the sound of my voice was strangely familiar, 
 that my eyes gave her a sense of serenity and 
 peace. I was on the point of speaking out then, 
 but just one thing held me back; I wanted 
 this " and Creighton gave Quinn the let- 
 ter from the Judge, containing Fleck's confes- 
 sion. 
 
 There was a profound silence. 
 
 Then Creighton went on to explain how it was 
 he came into the mountains the day he chanced 
 to meet Quinn. With a glowing tribute to Quinn's 
 father and Beth's on his lips, the men drew near 
 the cabin. Through the south window, they saw 
 Aunt Miriam, the embodiment of the spirit of
 
 THE VINDICATION 271 
 
 Christmas, busy as she was, dispensing Christmas 
 cheer. 
 
 Looking again, they saw Duke and Beth light 
 the bayberry candle a new thing to Creighton, 
 but he remembered having seen one lately in a 
 curio shop, and recalled the little card with it, 
 that ran: 
 
 " Burn this candle on Christmas Eve 
 It will bring happiness and good fortune." 
 
 But now Creighton's eyes went past the candle 
 to where, at the piano, sat Jean. Fair girl beau- 
 tiful in herself, and now because she was loved 
 and loving looking more than ever like her 
 mother, who had died so many years ago! 
 
 In his pocket was the letter. Yes, he was a clean 
 man. Now he could speak. Would Jean know 
 him ? Could she remember ? Could he bring back 
 to her the outlines of a face his that she had 
 seen so far back in her childhood days? 
 
 Then he heard the piano. Jean was singing: 
 
 " Silent night ! Holy night ! 
 
 All is calm, all is bright. 
 Round yon virgin mother and Child ! 
 Holy Infant, so tender and mild, 
 
 Sleep in heavenly peace." 
 
 They walked to the door and knocked. 
 Some one called for them to enter, but they 
 waited for them to open the door. It was yet in-
 
 272 VINDICATION OF EOBEET CEEIGHTON 
 
 credible to Creighton that he should leave the chill 
 of the outer darkness to go into a room firelit, 
 sweet with a companionship that he need no 
 longer hesitate to take a share in, and to claim the 
 daughter his heart had so long yearned for, to 
 call its own. 
 
 Printed in the United States of Amerita
 
 A 000127443