The Sky Pilot: A Tale of the Foothills

by Ralph Connor

  CHAPTER XIV

  BILL'S BLUFF

  The Pilot had set his heart upon the building of a church in the SwanCreek district, partly because he was human and wished to set a markof remembrance upon the country, but more because he held the sensibleopinion, that a congregation, as a man, must have a home if it is tostay.

  All through the summer he kept setting this as an object at oncedesirable and possible to achieve. But few were found to agree with him.

  Little Mrs. Muir was of the few, and she was not to be despised, but herinfluence was neutralized by the solid immobility of her husband. He hadnever done anything sudden in his life. Every resolve was the result ofa long process of mind, and every act of importance had to be previewedfrom all possible points. An honest man, strongly religious, and a greatadmirer of The Pilot, but slow-moving as a glacier, although with plentyof fire in him deep down.

  "He's soond at the hairt, ma man Robbie," his wife said to The Pilot,who was fuming and fretting at the blocking of his plans, "but he'sterrible deleeberate. Bide ye a bit, laddie. He'll come tae."

  "But meantime the summer's going and nothing will be done," was ThePilot's distressed and impatient answer.

  So a meeting was called to discuss the question of building a church,with the result that the five men and three women present decided thatfor the present nothing could be done. This was really Robbie's opinion,though he refused to do or say anything but grunt, as The Pilot saidto me afterwards, in a rage. It is true, Williams, the storekeeper justcome from "across the line," did all the talking, but no one paidmuch attention to his fluent fatuities except as they represented theunexpressed mind of the dour, exasperating little Scotchman, who satsilent but for an "ay" now and then, so expressive and conclusive thateveryone knew what he meant, and that discussion was at an end. Theschoolhouse was quite sufficient for the present; the people were toofew and too poor and they were getting on well under the leadership oftheir present minister. These were the arguments which Robbie's "ay"stamped as quite unanswerable.

  It was a sore blow to The Pilot, who had set his heart upon a church,and neither Mrs. Muir's "hoots" at her husband's slowness nor herpromises that she "wad mak him hear it" could bring comfort or relievehis gloom.

  In this state of mind he rode up with me to pay our weekly visit to thelittle girl shut up in her lonely house among the hills.

  It had become The Pilot's custom during these weeks to turn for cheer tothat little room, and seldom was he disappointed. She was so bright, sobrave, so cheery, and so full of fun, that gloom faded from her presenceas mist before the sun, and impatience was shamed into content.

  Gwen's bright face--it was almost always bright now--and her brightwelcome did something for The Pilot, but the feeling of failure was uponhim, and failure to his enthusiastic nature was worse than pain. Notthat he confessed either to failure or gloom; he was far too true aman for that; but Gwen felt his depression in spite of all his braveattempts at brightness, and insisted that he was ill, appealing to me.

  "Oh, it's only his church," I said, proceeding to give her an accountof Robbie Muir's silent, solid inertness, and how he had blocked ThePilot's scheme.

  "What a shame!" cried Gwen, indignantly. "What a bad man he must be!"

  The Pilot smiled. "No, indeed," he answered; "why, he's the best man inthe place, but I wish he would say or do something. If he would only getmad and swear I think I should feel happier."

  Gwen looked quite mystified.

  "You see, he sits there in solemn silence looking so tremendously wisethat most men feel foolish if they speak, while as for doing anythingthe idea appears preposterous, in the face of his immovableness."

  "I can't bear him!" cried Gwen. "I should like to stick pins in him."

  "I wish some one would," answered The Pilot. "It would make him seemmore human if he could be made to jump."

  "Try again," said Gwen, "and get someone to make him jump."

  "It would be easier to build the church," said The Pilot, gloomily.

  "I could make him jump," said Gwen, viciously, "and I WILL," she added,after a pause.

  "You!" answered The Pilot, opening his eyes. "How?"

  "I'll find some way," she replied, resolutely.

  And so she did, for when the next meeting was called to consult as tothe building of a church, the congregation, chiefly of farmers and theirwives, with Williams, the storekeeper, were greatly surprised to seeBronco Bill, Hi, and half a dozen ranchers and cowboys walk in atintervals and solemnly seat themselves. Robbie looked at them withsurprise and a little suspicion. In church matters he had no dealingswith the Samaritans from the hills, and while, in their unregeneratecondition, they might be regarded as suitable objects of missionaryeffort, as to their having any part in the direction, much less control,of the church policy--from such a notion Robbie was delivered by hisloyal adherence to the scriptural injunction that he should not castpearls before swine.

  The Pilot, though surprised to see Bill and the cattle men, was none theless delighted, and faced the meeting with more confidence. He statedthe question for discussion: Should a church building be erected thissummer in Swan Creek? and he put his case well. He showed the need of achurch for the sake of the congregation, for the sake of the men in thedistrict, the families growing up, the incoming settlers, and for thesake of the country and its future. He called upon all who loved theirchurch and their country to unite in this effort. It was an enthusiasticappeal and all the women and some of the men were at once upon his side.

  Then followed dead, solemn silence. Robbie was content to wait tillthe effect of the speech should be dissipated in smaller talk. Then hegravely said:

  "The kirk wad be a gran' thing, nae doot, an' they wad a'dootless"--with a suspicious glance toward Bill--"rejoice in itserection. But we maun be cautious, an' I wad like to enquire hoo muchmoney a kirk cud be built for, and whaur the money wad come frae?"

  The Pilot was ready with his answer. The cost would be $1,200. TheChurch Building Fund would contribute $200, the people could give $300in labor, and the remaining $700 he thought could be raised in thedistrict in two years' time.

  "Ay," said Robbie, and the tone and manner were sufficient to drench anyenthusiasm with the chilliest of water. So much was this the case thatthe chairman, Williams, seemed quite justified in saying:

  "It is quite evident that the opinion of the meeting is adverse to anyattempt to load the community with a debt of one thousand dollars,"and he proceeded with a very complete statement of the many and variousobjections to any attempt at building a church this year. The peoplewere very few, they were dispersed over a large area, they were notinterested sufficiently, they were all spending money and making littlein return; he supposed, therefore, that the meeting might adjourn.

  Robbie sat silent and expressionless in spite of his little wife'sanxious whispers and nudges. The Pilot looked the picture of woe, andwas on the point of bursting forth, when the meeting was startled byBill.

  "Say, boys! they hain't much stuck on their shop, heh?" The low,drawling voice was perfectly distinct and arresting.

  "Hain't got no use for it, seemingly," was the answer from the darkcorner.

  "Old Scotchie takes his religion out in prayin', I guess," drawled inBill, "but wants to sponge for his plant."

  This reference to Robbie's proposal to use the school moved theyoungsters to tittering and made the little Scotchman squirm, for heprided himself upon his independence.

  "There ain't $700 in the hull blanked outfit." This was a stranger'svoice, and again Robbie squirmed, for he rather prided himself also onhis ability to pay his way.

  "No good!" said another emphatic voice. "A blanked lot o' psalm-singingsnipes."

  "Order, order!" cried the chairman.

  "Old Windbag there don't see any show for swipin' the collection, withScotchie round," said Hi, with a following ripple of quiet laughter, forWilliams' reputation was none too secure.

  Robbie was in a most uncomfortable sta
te of mind. So unusually stirredwas he that for the first time in his history he made a motion.

  "I move we adjourn, Mr. Chairman," he said, in a voice which actuallyvibrated with emotion.

  "Different here! eh, boys?" drawled Bill.

  "You bet," said Hi, in huge delight. "The meetin' ain't out yit."

  "Ye can bide till mor-r-nin'," said Robbie, angrily. "A'm gaen hame,"beginning to put on his coat.

  "Seems as if he orter give the password," drawled Bill.

  "Right you are, pardner," said Hi, springing to the door and waiting indelighted expectation for his friend's lead.

  Robbie looked at the door, then at his wife, hesitated a moment, I haveno doubt wishing her home. Then Bill stood up and began to speak.

  "Mr. Chairman, I hain't been called on for any remarks--"

  "Go on!" yelled his friends from the dark corner. "Hear! hear!"

  "An' I didn't feel as if this war hardly my game, though The Pilot ain'tmean about invitin' a feller on Sunday afternoons. But them as runs theshop don't seem to want us fellers round too much."

  Robbie was gazing keenly at Bill, and here shook his head, mutteringangrily: "Hoots, nonsense! ye're welcome eneuch."

  "But," went on Bill, slowly, "I guess I've been on the wrong track.I've been a-cherishin' the opinion" ["Hear! hear!" yelled his admirers],"cherishin' the opinion," repeated Bill, "that these fellers," pointingto Robbie, "was stuck on religion, which I ain't much myself, and reelyconsarned about the blocking ov the devil, which The Pilot says can't bedid without a regular Gospel factory. O' course, it tain't any biznisov mine, but if us fellers was reely only sot on anything condoocin',"["Hear! hear!" yelled Hi, in ecstasy], "condoocin'," repeated Billslowly and with relish, "to the good ov the Order" (Bill was abrotherhood man), "I b'lieve I know whar five hundred dollars mebbe cudper'aps be got."

  "You bet your sox," yelled the strange voice, in chorus with othershouts of approval.

  "O' course, I ain't no bettin' man," went on Bill, insinuatingly, "as aregular thing, but I'd gamble a few jist here on this pint; if the boyswas stuck on anythin' costin' about seven hundred dollars, it seems tome likely they'd git it in about two days, per'aps."

  Here Robbie grunted out an "ay" of such fulness of contemptuous unbeliefthat Bill paused, and, looking over Robbie's head, he drawled out, evenmore slowly and mildly:

  "I ain't much given to bettin', as I remarked before, but, if a manshakes money at me on that proposition, I'd accommodate him to a limitedextent." ["Hear! hear! Bully boy!" yelled Hi again, from the door.] "Notbein' too bold, I cherish the opinion" [again yells of approval fromthe corner], "that even for this here Gospel plant, seein' The Pilot'srather sot onto it, I b'lieve the boys could find five hundred dollarsinside ov a month, if perhaps these fellers cud wiggle the rest out ovtheir pants."

  Then Robbie was in great wrath and, stung by the taunting, drawlingvoice beyond all self-command, he broke out suddenly:

  "Ye'll no can mak that guid, I doot."

  "D'ye mean I ain't prepared to back it up?"

  "Ay," said Robbie, grimly.

  "'Tain't likely I'll be called on; I guess $500 is safe enough," drawledBill, cunningly drawing him on. Then Robbie bit.

  "Oo ay!" said he, in a voice of quiet contempt, "the twa hunner wull behere and 'twull wait ye long eneuch, I'se warrant ye."

  Then Bill nailed him.

  "I hain't got my card case on my person," he said, with a slight grin.

  "Left it on the pianner," suggested Hi, who was in a state of greathilarity at Bill's success in drawing the Scottie.

  "But," Bill proceeded, recovering himself, and with increasing suavity,"if some gentleman would mark down the date of the almanac I cherish theopinion" [cheers from the corner] "that in one month from to-day therewill be five hundred dollars lookin' round for two hundred on that theredesk mebbe, or p'raps you would incline to two fifty," he drawled, inhis most winning tone to Robbie, who was growing more impatient everymoment.

  "Nae matter tae me. Ye're haverin' like a daft loon, ony way."

  "You will make a memento of this slight transaction, boys, and per'apsthe schoolmaster will write it down," said Bill.

  It was all carefully taken down, and amid much enthusiastic confusionthe ranchers and their gang carried Bill off to Old Latour's to "lickerup," while Robbie, in deep wrath but in dour silence, went off throughthe dark with his little wife following some paces behind him. Hischief grievance, however, was against the chairman for "allooin' sic adisorderly pack o' loons tae disturb respectable fowk," for he couldnot hide the fact that he had been made to break through his accustomeddefence line of immovable silence. I suggested, conversing with him nextday upon the matter, that Bill was probably only chaffing.

  "Ay," said Robbie, in great disgust, "the daft eejut, he wad mak a fuleo' onything or onybuddie."

  That was the sorest point with poor Robbie. Bill had not only castdoubts upon his religious sincerity, which the little man could notendure, but he had also held him up to the ridicule of the community,which was painful to his pride. But when he understood, some days later,that Bill was taking steps to back up his offer and had been heard todeclare that "he'd make them pious ducks take water if he had to put upa year's pay," Robbie went quietly to work to make good his part of thebargain. For his Scotch pride would not suffer him to refuse a challengefrom such a quarter.