by Ralph Connor
CHAPTER XXI.
HOW BILL HIT THE TRAIL
When "the crowd" was with us The Pilot read us all sorts of tales ofadventures in all lands by heroes of all ages, but when we three sattogether by our fire The Pilot would always read us tales of the heroesof sacred story, and these delighted Bill more than those of any ofthe ancient empires of the past. He had his favorites. Abraham, Moses,Joshua, Gideon, never failed to arouse his admiration. But Jacob was tohim always "a mean cuss," and David he could not appreciate. Most ofall he admired Moses and the Apostle Paul, whom he called "that littlechap." But, when the reading was about the One Great Man that movedmajestic amid the gospel stories, Bill made no comments; He was too highfor approval.
By and by Bill began to tell these tales to the boys, and one night,when a quiet mood had fallen upon the company, Bill broke the silence.
"Say, Pilot, where was it that the little chap got mixed up into thatriot?"
"Riot!" said The Pilot.
"Yes; you remember when he stood off the whole gang from the stairs?"
"Oh, yes, at Jerusalem!"
"Yes, that's the spot. Perhaps you would read that to the boys. Goodyarn! Little chap, you know, stood up and told 'em they were all sortsof blanked thieves and cut-throats, and stood 'em off. Played it alone,too."
Most of the boys failed to recognize the story in its new dress. Therewas much interest.
"Who was the duck? Who was the gang? What was the row about?"
"The Pilot here'll tell you. If you'd kind o' give 'em a lead before youbegin, they'd catch on to the yarn better." This last to The Pilot, whowas preparing to read.
"Well, it was at Jerusalem," began The Pilot, when Bill interrupted:
"If I might remark, perhaps it might help the boys on to the trailmebbe, if you'd tell 'em how the little chap struck his new gait." So hedesignated the Apostle's conversion.
Then The Pilot introduced the Apostle with some formality to thecompany, describing with such vivid touches his life and early training,his sudden wrench from all he held dear, under the stress of a newconviction, his magnificent enthusiasm and courage, his tenderness andpatience, that I was surprised to find myself regarding him as a sort ofhero, and the boys were all ready to back him against any odds. As ThePilot read the story of the Arrest at Jerusalem, stopping now and thento picture the scene, we saw it all and were in the thick of it. Theraging crowd hustling and beating the life out of the brave little man,the sudden thrust of the disciplined Roman guard through the mass, therescue, the pause on the stairway, the calm face of the little herobeckoning for a hearing, the quieting of the frantic, frothing mob, thefearless speech--all passed before us. The boys were thrilled.
"Good stuff, eh?"
"Ain't he a daisy?"
"Daisy! He's a whole sunflower patch!"
"Yes," drawled Bill, highly appreciating their marks of approval."That's what I call a partickler fine character of a man. There ain't nomanner of insecks on to him."
"You bet!" said Hi.
"I say," broke in one of the boys, who was just emerging from thetenderfoot stage, "o' course that's in the Bible, ain't it?"
The Pilot assented.
"Well, how do you know it's true?"
The Pilot was proceeding to elaborate his argument when Bill cut insomewhat more abruptly than was his wont.
"Look here, young feller!" Bill's voice was in the tone of command. Theman looked as he was bid. "How do you know anything's true? How do youknow The Pilot here's true when he speaks? Can't you tell by the feel?You know by the sound of his voice, don't you?" Bill paused and theyoung fellow agreed readily.
"Well how do you know a blanked son of a she jackass when you see him?"Again Bill paused. There was no reply.
"Well," said Bill, resuming his deliberate drawl. "I'll give you theinformation without extra charge. It's by the sound he makes when heopens his blanked jaw."
"But," went on the young skeptic, nettled at the laugh that went round,"that don't prove anything. You know," turning to The Pilot, "that thereare heaps of people who don't believe the Bible."
The Pilot nodded.
"Some of the smartest, best-educated men are agnostics," proceeded theyoung man, warming to his theme, and failing to notice the stiffening ofBill's lank figure. "I don't know but what I am one myself."
"That so?" said Bill, with sudden interest.
"I guess so," was the modest reply.
"Got it bad?" went on Bill, with a note of anxiety in his tone.
But the young man turned to The Pilot and tried to open a freshargument.
"Whatever he's got," said Bill to the others, in a mild voice, "it'sspoilin' his manners."
"Yes," went on Bill, meditatively, after the slight laugh had died,"it's ruinin' to the judgment. He don't seem to know when he interfereswith the game. Pity, too."
Still the argument went on.
"Seems as if he ought to take somethin'," said Bill, in a voicesuspiciously mild. "What would you suggest?"
"A walk, mebbe!" said Hi, in delighted expectation.
"I hold the opinion that you have mentioned an uncommonly vallableremedy, better'n Pain Killer almost."
Bill rose languidly.
"I say," he drawled, tapping the young fellow, "it appears to me alittle walk would perhaps be good, mebbe."
"All right, wait till I get my cap," was the unsuspecting reply.
"I don't think perhaps you won't need it, mebbe. I cherish the opinionyou'll, perhaps, be warm enough." Bill's voice had unconsciously passedinto a sterner tone. Hi was on his feet and at the door.
"This here interview is private AND confidential," said Bill to hispartner.
"Exactly," said Hi, opening the door. At this the young fellow, who wasa strapping six-footer, but soft and flabby, drew back and refused togo. He was too late. Bill's grip was on his collar and out they wentinto the snow, and behind them Hi closed the door. In vain the youngfellow struggled to wrench himself free from the hands that had him bythe shoulder and the back of the neck. I took it all in from the window.He might have been a boy for all the effect his plungings had upon thelong, sinewy arms that gripped him so fiercely. After a minute's furiousstruggle the young fellow stood quiet, when Bill suddenly shifted hisgrip from the shoulder to the seat of his buckskin trousers. Then begana series of evolutions before the house--up and down, forward and back,which the unfortunate victim, with hands wildly clutching at emptyair, was quite powerless to resist till he was brought up panting andgasping, subdued, to a standstill.
"I'll larn you agnostics and several other kinds of ticks," said Bill,in a terrible voice, his drawl lengthening perceptibly. "Come roundhere, will you, and shove your blanked second-handed trash down ourthroats?" Bill paused to get words; then, bursting out in rising wrath:
"There ain't no sootable words for sich conduct. By the livin' Jeminy--"He suddenly swung his prisoner off his feet, lifted him bodily, and heldhim over his head at arm's length. "I've a notion to--"
"Don't! don't! for Heaven's sake!" cried the struggling wretch, "I'llstop it! I will!"
Bill at once lowered him and set him on his feet.
"All right! Shake!" he said, holding out his hand, which the other tookwith caution.
It was a remarkably sudden conversion and lasting in its effects. Therewas no more agnosticism in the little group that gathered around ThePilot for the nightly reading.
The interest in the reading kept growing night by night.
"Seems as if The Pilot was gittin' in his work," said Bill to me; andlooking at the grave, eager faces, I agreed. He was getting in his workwith Bill, too; though perhaps Bill did not know it. I remember onenight, when the others had gone, The Pilot was reading to us the Parableof the Talents, Bill was particularly interested in the servant whofailed in his duty.
"Ornery cuss, eh?" he remarked; "and gall, too, eh? Served him blamedwell right, in my opinion!"
But when the practical bearing of the parable became clear to him, afterlong sile
nce, he said, slowly:
"Well, that there seems to indicate that it's about time for me to geta rustle on." Then, after another silence, he said, hesitatingly, "Thishere church-buildin' business now, do you think that'll perhaps count,mebbe? I guess not, eh? 'Tain't much, o' course, anyway." Poor Bill, hewas like a child, and The Pilot handled him with a mother's touch.
"What are you best at, Bill?"
"Bronco-bustin' and cattle," said Bill, wonderingly; "that's my line."
"Well, Bill, my line is preaching just now, and piloting, you know." ThePilot's smile was like a sunbeam on a rainy day, for there were tears inhis eyes and voice. "And we have just got to be faithful. You seewhat he says: 'Well done, good and FAITHFUL servant. Thou hast beenFAITHFUL.'"
Bill was puzzled.
"Faithful!" he repeated. "Does that mean with the cattle, perhaps?"
"Yes, that's just it, Bill, and with everything else that comes yourway."
And Bill never forgot that lesson, for I heard him, with a kind of quietenthusiasm, giving it to Hi as a great find. "Now, I call that a fairdeal," he said to his friend; "gives every man a show. No cards up thesleeve."
"That's so," was Hi's thoughtful reply; "distributes the trumps."
Somehow Bill came to be regarded as an authority upon questions ofreligion and morals. No one ever accused him of "gettin' religion." Hewent about his work in his slow, quiet way, but he was always sharinghis discoveries with "the boys." And if anyone puzzled him withsubtleties he never rested till he had him face to face with ThePilot. And so it came that these two drew to each other with more thanbrotherly affection. When Bill got into difficulty with problems thathave vexed the souls of men far wiser than he, The Pilot would eitherdisentangle the knots or would turn his mind to the verities that stoodout sure and clear, and Bill would be content.
"That's good enough for me," he would say, and his heart would be atrest.
