He took it out and smoothed the rumpled pages, tenderly, thrilled to hold it now, and to know that he was at last free to read it.
My precious Barney:
This is probably the last letter I will write you on this earth. I know from what the doctor told me, and the way I feel, that I am almost at the end of this life, and ready to walk into the presence of the Lord. Our Lord, Barney! You don’t know how it thrills me to know that He is truly Your Lord as well as mine. It is what I have hoped and prayed for all these years. But although you outwardly acquiesced I was never quite sure that you really knew Him.
So, your last letter, in which you said you had met Him out on the battlefield, and taken Him for your own Savior, has given me joy beyond any I had hoped to know on this earth. Dear boy, it was worth all the dread and agony and suffering of parting from you, of having you so far away, your location a mystery sometimes, danger and death around you constantly. It was worth all that to have this knowledge now, while I am still on this earth, and to be able to thank you for writing it to me at once.
So, dear son, I’m rejoicing that you are born again, and that I am sure we shall meet in heaven. It just might be, you know, that the Lord Jesus may come for His own while you are still on this earth, in which case I’ll be coming with Him, and we’ll meet in the air. But in any case I’ll likely be there first. I’ll be waiting for you at the gate when you come. And I’m expecting to meet your father there, too.
So now, dear child, a last bit of warning. Don’t let your enemy, the devil, deceive you into getting separated from your Lord. He knows his time is short, and he’ll be trying to get you in the subtlest way he has.
And one more thing: be careful who you marry, Barney! Be sure she knows your Lord. It can make a lot of sorrow for you if she isn’t a true believer. And blessings on you both, dear lad, when you find the right girl.
Now don’t grieve for me, dear. There isn’t time. You’ve a job to do for the Lord. You’ve witnessing to do in the world. Let your life speak louder than words, and your words be always guided by Him.
And it won’t be long, dear lad. It just might be that I may even be allowed to watch you as you come on your way to join me. So good-bye till then.
Your loving mother,
Mary Graham Vance
Barney sat a long time with the finished letter in his hands, the slow tears streaming down his cheeks. Yes, she had told him not to grieve for her, but he was not aware of the tears. His heart seemed welded to hers, his precious mother! To have this letter seemed a dearer treasure than any gift she could have left him. Her memory had always been dear to him whenever he had been away even for a little while, for he had loved her deeply from babyhood. But now she seemed to be more his than ever in their lives before, for now their love was bound with the love of Christ who died for them, and in whom they both believed. It seemed to the young man as he sat there alone in the darkening room, that he grew up in that brief hour, more than in all his years before, even more than he had grown up during the terrible revelations of the war, with death and hate stalking the way on every hand. Just to know his mother’s God had been as real to her as He had been years ago when she first taught his baby lips to pray, was satisfaction for all his doubts of the past, assurance for the future, even if that future contained more sorrow and disappointment, more war, and sudden death. It would not be long. He had her word for it, that it would not be long. Tenderly he bowed his head and laid his lips on the precious letter, and there in the darkness he prayed. Dear God! Keep me faithful. Keep me close. Make my life a true witness. Guard me in any temptation, and give me Thy righteousness and Thy strength.
It almost seemed as he lingered with bowed head, that he felt his mother’s presence there beside him, her dear hand upon his head, as in the old days. And her Lord’s presence filled the room with unspeakable joy and promise.
Then he heard Roxy come slowly, hesitantly up the stairs, and linger outside his door, listening. She would be thinking he was asleep perhaps, and doubtless she had prepared a nice dinner. He must not disappoint her. She would be bringing up a tray pretty soon.
“Coming, Roxy!” he called. “Do you want me?”
“I thought you might be wanting a bite to eat,” she said wistfully. “It’s all ready. I’ll be bringing you a tray.”
“No, Roxy! I’m coming down. I’ve had a good rest, and now I’m coming down to supper. Coming right away!” And his voice had that old hearty ring that cheered her heart.
She eyed him anxiously as he entered the dining room. It couldn’t be that his pleasant manner came from any memory of that hussy Hortense’s visit, could it? If that was it, she had far rather see him glower.
But he looked her straight in the eye, seeming to read her thoughts, and beamed out his old grin to reassure her. “She’s some terrific brat, isn’t she, Roxy? That’s what you think, don’t you? And I agree with you.”
Roxy’s face relaxed into smiles.
“Well, I thought if you didn’t see I didn’t know what I should do. Your mom would be terribly worried.”
“Yes, I know, Roxy. Mother never trusted her, and I guess she wasn’t far wrong in her reading of that girl, even when she was a kid. But, poor kid! How did she get that way? What was her mother doing? Why didn’t she bring her up right?”
“Well, laddie, her mom was a fool, that’s why! Your mom knew that when she invited her over here and tried to get acquainted with her, but she never come but once. All she wanted to do when she got here was fool with them bits of playin’ cards and eat cakes, and when she found your mom wasn’t interested, she went off visitin’ where they had big parties and danced a lot. And she had lots of callers, men callers, an’ a tough-lookin’ lot they was, too. That was her life, and that poor child had to suffer for it. Of course it wasn’t the child’s fault in the first place, but she certainly has growed up to be a menace to the community. That’s what I heard the minister’s wife say about her the other day at the Ladies’ Aid. She didn’t know I heard her; she was talkin’ confidential-like to the senior elder’s wife, and she said, low-like, ‘that girl’s a menace to the community. She certainly is. I wish she would get to work doing something worthwhile. But I don’t know where it would be that she couldn’t do all sorts of harm to the people she worked with.’ That’s exactly what she said. But of course I wouldn’t repeat it, only to you. Because I want you to know it’s not just because I don’t like the girl.”
“I understand, Roxy,” Barney said, grinning. “You’re only repeating it to me because you want me to understand that I’m in danger from her. Is that it, Roxy? Come now. ’Fess up.”
Roxy giggled, unable to retain her serious poise of gravity, and her anxious expression relaxed. “Well, yes, I s’pose there’s lots to say to excuse her from the little bringin’ up she had, but still—well, she’s a menace all the same. Every last boy she can get her hands on she winds right around her little red-clawed finger. Hardly a one of them has the nerve to turn her down. It’s curious. They all see what she is, and yet they fall for her.”
“Well, Roxy, I expect she’ll bear praying for, won’t she?”
Roxy looked embarrassed. “Well now—that sounds like your mom. It certainly does. But all the same, I’d say it was safer for the prayin’ ones to be women. I just wouldn’t trust most of the men I know to get even that close to her, as prayin’ would be. I tell you, boy, she’s got the devil in league with her, an’ no mistake.”
Barney looked gravely back. “I expect she has, Roxy. Most wrong people have, when you come to consider it, haven’t they? The only sure way is for the people who are doing the praying to get in league with the Lord, isn’t it?”
A surprised light rose in old Roxy’s eyes. She almost choked on a bread crumb, and sudden tears came in her kind old eyes. Glad eyes they were now, and no mistake, but embarrassed.
“You—sound—like your little—mom—boy!” she stammered out. “I guess if you talk like that I needn’t worr
y about you anymore.”
“Oh,” said Barney, with a twinkle. “Were you worrying about me? Well, that’s good of you, Roxy, but I’m with the Lord now, so suppose you find somebody else to worry about. Say, Roxy, this is swell soup. It tastes like the old times. I shall get well so quick on such fare as you are giving me, that I’ll have to be getting my bags packed pretty soon to go back.”
“No chance!” said Roxy, with a new look of alarm on her kindly features. “You promised me you wouldn’t go till the doctor said it was all right for you to go.”
There was so much alarm and pleading in her voice that Barney began to laugh. “Now, Roxy, don’t you go and get excited. I have no intention of leaving your tender ministry until it is quite all right for me to go, and you’ll find the army is pretty rigid about their restrictions. I suspect they’ll keep me here far longer than I feel I should stay. However, we haven’t come to that question yet. What we’ve got to concern ourselves about is what we are going to do about those old friends. Are any more of them as far out of the way as Hortense?”
“Well, there’s a-plenty of them need prayin’ for, if that’s what you mean. I reckon prayin’ is about as good a way to deal with them as there is, and not quite so dangerous as some other ways. Yes, there’s a few girls are followin’ in Hortense’s ways just as fast as they can. They’ve got a start kickin’ at the traces, an’ they think it’s smart. You’ll see when you get around.”
“That’s too bad, Roxy. How about Sunny? Is there any danger of her getting the disease? I’d hate to see her growing up to drink and smoke, and talk the way Hortense did today.”
Roxy’s face beamed into a smile. “No, Sunny’s not like that. She hasn’t the time, and wouldn’t have the interest if she did have the time. Besides, they won’t have anything to do with her. They think she’s only a stuffy old schoolteacher. A ‘working girl’ they call her. They couldn’t be bothered with keeping children still and trying to teach them anything.”
“That’s good!” said the young man. “One less thing to worry about. But say, when is Sunny coming to see us? Does she know I’m here?”
“Well, if she doesn’t, I suppose somebody’ll tell her pretty soon, but I think likely that would be the very reason she wouldn’t come. She may have hard you’re here, and she’s not on to call on a young man, especially when he’s a soldier who has been advertised as a hero. Sunny realizes that she was a little child when you knew her, and she’s not one to force herself to the front, even to claim an old playmate.”
“Oh, so that’s it, is it? Well then, I see I’ll have to go call on her. Just find out for me what day and hour would be most agreeable for her to receive me, and I’ll lose no time. I want to see how she looks, and hear her whistle. You don’t suppose she’d come over and play ball with me some evening, do you? I think I’ll be fit enough for that in a few days. And couldn’t we have a picnic out on the terrace? The side away from the road, you know, where there couldn’t be any intruders barging in on us? I think that would be great!”
Roxy smiled, and entered into the plan eagerly, then hurried away to hand Joel the pail of chicken feed, and to pour the new milk he brought into the shining old pans standing ready for it. Barney finished his meal thoughtfully with some of Roxy’s wonderful chocolate cake and peach preserves, and finally went up to his room feeling quite ready for rest. Also he had some praying to do tonight. That was like getting ready for a battle. His heart must be prepared for whatever the Lord was planning ahead. He felt as if his Christian life had taken a new lease, after he had lain dormant so long in the hospital. His mother’s letter had given him the impetus, and now he felt he had a job here at home to do, before the Lord would send him back to war again. There was a foe here he could see now, as well as across the water.
And over in the town a couple of miles away, in an ornate boardinghouse, Hortense was laying plans and smiling in anticipation of the way she meant to snare Barney.
Chapter 7
About that same time in a bleak detention camp in a far land almost on the other side of the world, Stormy Applegate was stealing cautiously in the dead of night out from the surveillance of the enemy. He had done his dangerous work that he had come over there to do, had obtained information, and left misleading papers in code behind him in such a way that they would bewilder the enemy, and now he had only to make his getaway. But it was by far the most hopeless-looking situation from which he had ever attempted to escape. Only a dummy hastily devised from a log and some of his own garments, which he could ill afford to spare on that bitter cold night, had made it possible, and even now that might at any minute be found out.
The location was bleak and with little if any spot that might be a shelter. Twice he had almost been discovered, but lying like a log the sleepy guard had not noticed him and had passed on. And now there was barely a brief interval before he would come again. Could he cross that wide stretch of open ground before he arrived? And having crossed safely, would there be another guard more vigilant beyond? Even the stars seemed to have withdrawn their light, and he could not be sure of his direction, although he thought it was ingrained into his very being. Every inch he rolled, every foot he crawled was but an experiment in a great venture of his life.
Wide away toward the homeland somewhere was Barney Vance. Barney had known he was to try this venture sometime in the near future. If Barney was still alive he would be thinking of him now and then, and would lift a real prayer for him. He was almost sure of that.
“Oh, God,” he prayed under his breath, “You are here! You’ll show me where to go, what to do!”
There! There were the steps of the guard again! Or was that God stepping gently to let him know that He was there?
He rolled another inch or two, tuning his turning with a wind that was blowing. Now! Was he out of range of the guard’s path?
But rolled as he was to resemble a log, he lay in a sort of gully where even a quickly flashed light would scarcely reveal him as alive. On and on he persisted, stretched horizontal, stiff with the cold, too stiff to even shudder when he heard the distant clang of steel upon stone, as a guard passed the large rock that loomed behind.
On, on he crept, almost too numb to move cautiously, but not too numb to pray.
“God, if it’s Your will, let me get back!”
A single star winked out behind a ragged cloud and gave him his bearings again. There was another wide expanse of open ground before him to cross. Could he reach a shelter before the dawning?
“Oh, God! Do what You want to do with me! It’s just Your Stormy, asking to be guided!”
And now ahead was the guard fence. Barbed wire. Plenty of it. Could he manage to separate the strands enough to get through? Were his hands too numb to work them apart?
“God, are You there?”
And now!
There was no sound of a guard’s steps yet. Perhaps the guard was asleep. Listening cautiously, Stormy worked, wrapping the wires together with his shirt. Could he get through before a guard arrived?
At last the final wire was cut, the opening large enough to creep through, and with his heart thumping wildly again as when he first set out, he came nearer, put a cautious arm through the opening, his head and shoulders, then worked his whole body slowly through!
He looked around. No shadow even in sight yet; it was still very dark. There seemed to be a hill just below him. Dared he try rolling? Would it make too much noise? He listened again. Was that a step? He must not risk getting caught now.
Carefully he crept ahead, over the little hillock, so slowly that there was scarcely the sound a rubber-shod foot would make in the sand. On, on he went, and now and then a star winked briefly to blaze his way.
Off in the distance he could hear a sound. One man calling to another. Had they discovered his absence already? But surely not, for this was the time when the camp was always quiet, the sleepy guards longing to be relieved. He had gone too far and stayed too long not to know the ways o
f the enemy world into which he had come for the sake of righteousness. A little farther on there were trees and some bushes. If he could only make their shelter.
“God, are You there? I’m depending on You. I can’t see ahead, You know.”
His silent thoughts took grotesque turnings. It seemed that he was thinking over his situation, almost aloud, though that couldn’t be true, for he was going most guardedly.
“Traveling with God!” he said to himself. “That’s what I’m doing. I wonder if any soldier ever thought of that before. Stormy Applegate, if you ever get back to the world, you’ll have to tell other soldiers how it is. How safe it is traveling with God. You’ll have to tell the world how they forgot to calculate on God, and what He will do for them if they take Him for their Savior. And I shall certainly tell Barney Vance about this if he is still on this earth and I can find him.”
It was almost morning when at last he came within sight of a few forlorn, straggling houses. And now, was he far enough away from the camp to dare to risk being seen? And if he should approach one of those ramshackle dwellings, was there anyone there who would dare to hide him? There in an enemy-occupied country? No, there wouldn’t be, of course.
On and on he hurried now, in the gathering dawn, heading toward what looked like the ruins of a shed at some distance from a rickety barn. If he could get within the shelter of even a few boards, perhaps he could reconstruct his outfit so that he would dare to walk on into daylight, for he remembered he was wearing portions of an enemy uniform that he had bargained for from among his fellow prisoners. Could he pass as one of the enemy? He, an escaped prisoner?
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