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BLACK
Is. ROCK .
chapter vi.
BLACK ROCK I1EI.IOIOX.
I\A/I IIEN ’ 1 fcrrow Wc * ar >’ will* the
I w I conventions of religion and
KvrTI Blek in my soul from feeding
iSrfft-J upon husks that the churches
too often offer ine in the shape of elab
orate service and eloquent discourses,
so that in my sickness I doubt and
doubt, then I%o back to the commun
ion in Block Rock and the days pre
ceding it, and the fever and the weari
ness leave me, and I grow humble and
strong. The simplicity and rugged
grandeur of the faith, the humble grat
itude of the rough men I see about the
table and the cifim radiance of one
saintly fucc rest and recall me.
Not Its most enthusiastic apologist
would call Black Rock a religious com
munity. hut It possessed in a marked
degree that eminent Christian virtue
of tolerance. All creeds, all shades of
religious opinion, were allowed, a ml It
was generally conceded that one,was
1 as good as another, it is fair to say.
however, that Black Rock’s catholicity
was negative rather than positive. The
. only religion objectionable was that In
sisted upon ns a necessity. It never
occurred to any one to consider reli
gion other than ns a respectable if not
ornamental additiou to life in older
lauds.
During the weeks following the mak
ing of the league, however, this nega
tive attitude toward things religious
gave place to one of keen investigation
and criticism. The Indifference passed
away and with it iu a large measure
the tolerance. Mr. Craig was respon
sible for the former of these changes,
but hardly in fairness could be be held
responsible for the latter. If any one
more than another was to bo blamed
for the rise of Intolerance in the vil
lage, that man was Geordie Crawford.
He had his “lines” from the Estab
lished Kirk of Scotln'ud, and when Mr.
Craig announced his intention of hav
ing the sacrament of the Lord’s supper
observed Geordie produced his lines
and handed them iu. As no other man
in the village was equipped with like
spiritual credentials, Geordie constitut
ed himself a kind of kirk session,
charged with the double duty of guard
ing the entrance to tlic Lord’s table
and of keeping an eye upon the theo-
~t0giear 6p{aion1~or tne community and
more particularly upou such members
of it as gave evidence of possessing
any opinions dotlnlte enough for state
ment »
It came to be Mr. Craig’s habit to
drop into the leagueroom and toward
the close of the evening to have n short
Scripture lesson from the gospels.
Geordie’s opportunity came after the
meeting was over and Mr. Craig had
gone away. The. men would hang
about nud talk the lesson over, ex
pressing opinions favorable or unfa
vorable, as appeared to them good.
Then it was tfcat all sorts of views, re
ligious and otherwise, were aired and
examined. The originality of the ideas,
the absolute disregard of the authority
of church or creed, the frankness with
which opinions were stated and the
forccfulness of the language in which
they were expressed combined to make
the discussions altogether marvelous.
The passage between Abe Baker, the
stage driver, and Geordie was particu
larly rich. It followed upon n very
telling lesson on the parable of the
Pharisee and the publican.
The chief actors iu that wonderful
story were transferred to the Black
Rock stage and were presented in min
er’s costume. Abe was particularly
well pleased with the scoring of the
“blanked old rooster who crowed so
blanked high” and somewhat incensed
at the quiet remark interjected by
G&ordie that “It was nno credit till a
mon tae bo a sinner,” and when Geor
die went on to urge the importance of
right conduct and respectability Abe
was led to pour forth vials of con
temptuous wrath upon the Pharisees
and hypocrites who thought themselves
better than other people. But Geordie
was quito unruffled nud lamcuted the
Ignorance of men who, brought up in the
“Epeescopawlyun or Methody” church,
could hardly be expected to detect the
*" Antinomian or Armlnlan heresies.
"Aunty Nomyun or Undo Nomyun,”
replied Abe, boiling hot, “ray mother
was a Methodist, and I’ll back any
blanked Methodist against any blank*
ety blank long faced, lantern Jawed,
fkinfllnt Presbyterianl” And this he
was eager to maintain to any man’s
satisfaction If ho would step aside.
Geordie was quite unmoved, but has
tened to assuro Abo that he meant no
disrespect to his mother, who, lie had
“nao doot, was a clever enough hud
dle, tae Judge by her son.” Afio was
spoodily appeased and offered to sot
up the drinka all round, but Geordie,
with evident reluctance, had to de
cline, saying, "Na, na, lad; I’m a longue
man, yo ken.” And I was sure that
• Geordie at that moment felt that mem
bership in the league had its draw
backs.
Nor was Geordie too suro of Craig’s
orthodoxy, while, as to Mrs. Mnvor,
whose slave be wao, ho was in the
habit of lamenting her doctrinal con
dition :
"She's a lino whin man, nno doot;
but, puir cratur, sho’s fair carried
*wn’ wl’ the errors o’ tho Epeeoco-
pawlyuns.”
It tall to Geordie, therefore, as a it-
«ad flgtr. In view ot th« lixto -St
those wlfo seemed to Co the pillars of
the church, to he all the more watch
ful and uuyielUmg, but bo was delight
fully Inconsistent when confronted
with particulars. In conversation with
him one night after one of tho meet
ings, when lie hud been specially hard
upon the Ignorant and godless, I inno
cently changed the subject to Billy
Breen, whom Geordie bad taken to bis
sliaek since the night of the leugue.
He was very proud of Billy's success
In the fight against whisky, the credit
of which he divided evenly between
Mrs. Mnvor and himself.
“He’s fair daft about her.” he ex
plained to me, “an* I’ll no deny but
she's a great help aye, a verra con-
6eodornblc_ns8cestaueo— but, mon, she
rtoesim ken the whusky an’ the inside
that’s
ii. Ay
her pain
»t less
I lira 1
ik if*
u-alfter
Ik iu a
bonny glen on a simmer eve, with the
birus liltin’ about, tae sit in yon roomie
an’ bear her sing. But when tho night
is on an’ ye canna sleep, but wauken.
wl* an’ awfu’ thurst an’ wl’ dreams o’
cozy Uresides an’ the bonny sparklin’
glosses, as it is wi’ puir Illlly-aye, it’s
then ye need a mon wi’ a guid.grlp be
side ye.”
“What do you do then, Geordie?” 1
asked.
“Oo, aye, I Juist gang for a lit walk
wi’ the lad an’ then pits the kettle on
an’ makes a cup o’ tea or coffee, an’
a IT he gangs tae sleep like a bairn.”
“Boor Billy!” I said pityingly. “Thera
is no hope for him in the future, I
fear.”
“Hoot awn, mon!” said Geordie
quickly. “Ye wadna keep oot a puir
crater frae creepin* in that’s daeln’ his
best?”
“But. Geordie,” 1 remonstrated, “be
doesn’t know anything of the doctrines.
I don’t believe he could give us “the
chief end of man.’ ”
"An’ wha’s tae blame for that?” said
Geordie, with fine indignatiou. “An’
maybe you remember the prood Phari
see an’ tho puir wummnn that cam’
creepin’ in ahint the Maister."
Tho mingled tenderness and indigna
tion in Geordie’s face were beautiful to
see, so I meekly answered:
“Well, I hope Mr. Craig won’t be too
strict with the boys.”
Geordie shot a suspicious glance at
me, but I kept my face like a summer
morn, and he Implied cautiously:
“Aye, he’s no* that slrecet, but ho
maun cxerceese dlscreemination.”
Geordie was none the less determin
ed, however, that Billy should “come
forrit,” but ns to the manager, who
was a member of the English church,
and some others who had been con
firmed years ago and had forgotten
much and denied more, he was ex
tremely doubtful and expressed him
self in very decided words to the min
ister:
“Ye’ll no be askin’ forrit the Epees-
cvpawlyun buddies. They juist keu
uaelhiu’ ava.”
But Mr. Craig looked at him. for a
moment a-ud said, ‘“Him that cometh
unto me 1 will in nowise cast out.’ "
and Geordie was silent, though he con
tinued doubtful.
With all these somewhat fantastic
features, however, there was no mis
taking the earnest spirit of the men.
The meetings grew larger every night,
and the interest became more intense.
The singing became different. The men
no longer simply shouted, but us Mr.
Craig would call attention to the senti
ment of the hymn the voices would at
tune themselves to the words. Instead
of encouraging anything like emotional
excitement Mr. Craig seemed to fear it.
“These chaps are easily stirred up,”
he would say, “and I am anxious that
'they should know exactly what they
are doing. It is far too serious a busi
ness to tritle with.”
Although Graeme did not go down
stairs to the meetings, ho could not but
feel the throb of the emotion beating
in the heart of the community. I used
to detail for his benefit and sometimes
for his amusement the Incidents of
each night, but l never felt- quite easy
in dwelling upon the humorous fea
tures iu Mrs. Mayor’s presence, al
though Craig did uot appear to mind.
Ills manner with Graeme was perfect.
Openly anxious to win him to his side,
he did uot Improve the ^occasion and
vex him with exhortation. He would
not take him at a disadvantage,
though, as I afterward found, this was
not his solo reason for his method.
Mrs. Mavor, too. showed herself In a
wise and tender light. She might have
been Ills sister, so frank was she and
so openly affectionate, laughing at his
fretfulue88 and soothing his weariness.
Never were better comrades than wo
four, and tho bright days speeding so
swiftly on drew us nearer to one nn-
other. But the bright days came to
an cud, for Graeme, when once lie was
able to go about, became anxious to
get back to the camp. And so the last
day came, a day I remember well. It
was a bright, crisp winter day.
The air was shimmering in the frosty
light. Tho mountains, with their shin-
lug heads piercing through tho light
clouds into that wonderful blue of tho
western sky and their feet pushed into
tho pine masses, gazed down upon
Black Rock with calm, kindly looks on
their old gray faces, llow one grows
to love them, steadfast old friends!
Par up among tho pines wo could seo
tho
und so still und'ao clear was tho mono*
tain air that we could hear the puff of
the steam and from far down the river
tho murmur of the rapids. The maje*
tic silence, tho tender beauty, the
peace, the loneliness, too, cams steal
ing in upon us as we three, leaving
Mrs. Mavor behind us, marched arm
in’arm down the street. We had not
gone far on our way when Graeme,
turning round, stood a moment looking
back, then waved his hand in farewell.
Mrs. Mavor wus at her window, smil
ing and waving in return. They bod
grown to be great friends, these two,
and seemed to have arrived at some
understanding. Certainly. Graeme’s
manner to her was not that be bore to
other women. UIs half quizzical, some
what superior, uir of mocking devotion
gave place to a simple, earnest, almost
teuder, respect, very uew to him, but
very wlnniug.
As he stood there waving his fare
well I glanced at his face and saw for
u moment what I had not seen for
yeurs, a faint flush on Graeme’s.cheek
and a light of simple, earnest faith in
his eyes. It reminded me of my first
look of him when he had come up fof
his, matriculation to the varsity. He
stood on the campus looking up at the
noble old pile, and there Was the same
bright, trustful, earnest look on his
boyish face.
I know not what spirit possess^ me
-It may have been the pain of the
memory working in me—but I laid
coarsely enough:
“It's no use. Graeme, my boy. I
would fall in love with her myself, but
tiiere would be uo chance even for
me.”
The flush slowly darkened as he
turned and said deliberately:
“It’s not like you. Connor, to be an
ass of that peculiar kind. Love! Not
exactly! She won’t fall in love un
less”— And he stopped abruptly, with
his eyes upon Craig.
But Craig met him -with unshrinking
gaze, quietly remarking, “Her heart Is
under the pines.” And we moved on,
each thinking his own thoughts and
guessing at the thoughts of the others.
We were on our way to Craig’s
shack, and as we passed the saloon
Slaviu stepped from the door with a
salutation. Graeme paused. •
“Hello. Slav In! I got rather the
worst of it. didn’t 1?”
S’.avin came uear and said earnestly:
“It was a dirty trick altogether.
You’ll not think It was mine, Mr.
Graeme.”
“No, uo, Slavin. You stood up like a
man,” said Graeme cheerfully.
"And you beat me fair, nud. bodad, it
was a neat, one that laid me out, and
there’s no grudge in my heart till you.”
“All right, Slavin. We’ll perhaps un
derstand each other better after this.”
“And that’s true for you, sig, and I’ll
see that your boys don’t get any more
than they ask for,” replied Slavin,
backing away.
“And I hope that won’t bo much,”
put In Mr. Craig, but Slavin only grin
ned.
When we came back to Csaig’s
shack, Graeme was glad to rest irt the
big chair.
C’raig made him a cup of ten, while I
smoked, admiring much the deft neat
ness of the minister’s housekeeping
and the gentle, almost motherly, way
he had with Graeme.
In our talk we driftcal Into the future,
aifd Craig let us see what were his am
bitions. The railway was social to come.
The resources were us yet unexplored,
but enough was known to assure a
great future for British Columbia. As
he talked his enthusiasm grew aud car
ried us away. With the eye of a gen
eral he surveyed the Country, fixed tl»«
strategic points which the church must
seize upon. Eight good meat would hold
the country from Fort Steele to the
const and from Kootenai to Caribou.
“The church must be In with the rail
way. She must have a baud in the
shaping of the country. If society crys
tallizes without her influence, the coun
try is lost, and British Columbia will
be another trapdoor to’tho bottomless
pit.”
“What do you propose?” I asked.
“Organizing a little congregation here
in Black Rock.”
“How many will you get?”
"Don’t kuoVv.”
“Pretty hopeless business,” I said.
“Hopeless! Hopeless!” he cried.
"There were only twelve of us at first
to follow him, and rather a poor lot
they were. But he braced them up, and
they conquered the world.”
“But surely things are different,” said
Graeme.
“Things? Yes, yes, but he is the
same.”
His face had an exalted look, and hl»
eyes were gazing into faraway places.
“A dozen men in Black Rock, with
some real grip of him, would make
things go. Wefll get them, too,” ho
went on in growing excitement. *‘I be
lieve in my soul we’ll get them.”
“Look here, Craig. If you organize.
I’d like to Join.” said Gracnte Impul
sively. “I don’t believe much In your
creed or your church, but I’ll be blow-
ed if I don’t believe in you.”
Craig looked at him with wistful
eyes nud shook his head.
"It won’t do, old chap, you know. I
can’t hold you. You’ve got to have tt
grip of some one better than I am. and
then, besides, I hardly like asking you
now.” Uo hesitated. "Well, to be out
and out, thiq. step must be takeu not
for my sake or for any man’s sake, aud
I faucy that perhaps you feU like
plea sin me Just now a little.”
“That i do, old fellow,” said Graeme,
putting out his hand. ’Til be hanged If
I won’t do anything you say.”
"That’s why l won’t say,” replied
Craig. Then reverently ho added: "The
organization is uot mine. U is my Mss-
tor's.”
"When are you going to begin?”
asked Graeme.
“We shall have our communion serv
ice In two weeks, and that will bo our
roll call."
"How many,will answerT* Tasked
doubtfully. -
. “I know of thro*," hejsid qntttfr, _
•Three! There are'200 mlsrfT'ind
100 lumbermen. Three!” And Craem*
looked at him in amazement. “You
think it worth while to orgaalae
three?”
"Well,” replied Craig, stalling for the
first time, "the organization won't .be
elaborate, but It will be effective, and.
besides, loyalty demands obedience.”
We sat long that afternoon talking,
shrinking from the breaking up. for we
knew that we were about to turu down
a chapter in our Uvee which we should
delight to linger over in after days, and
in my life there is but one brighter. At
last we said goodby and drove away,
and, though many farewells have come
In between that day and this, non# Is
so vividly present to me as that be
tween us three men. Craig's manner
with me was solemn enough;
“ ‘He that loveth his life*—goodly.
Don’t fool with this.” wus what be
said to me, but when he turned to
Graeme his whole fuce lighted up. He
took him by the shoulders end gave
him a little shake, looking into his
eyes and saying over and over In a lew,
sweet tone:
"You’ll come, old chap, you’ll come,
you’ll come. Tell me you’ll come.”
And Graeme could say nothing la re
ply, but only looked at him. _ Than
they silently shook bauds, and we
drove off. but long after we bad go?
over the mountain and Into the wind
ing forest road on the way to the lum
ber camp the voice k«-pt vibrating in
my heart, “You’ll come, you’l come,”
aud there was a hot pain iu my throat
We said little during the drive te the
camp. Graeme was thinking hard and
made no answer when I spoke to him
two or three times till we camfe to the
deep shadows of the pine forest, when,
with a II.ile shiver, he said:
<“lt is all a tangle, a hopeless tan-<
gle.”
“Meaning what?” I asked.
“This business of religion. What
quaint varieties—S’elaou’s, Geordie’s.
Billy Breen’s—If be has any—time. Mrs.
Mavor’s—she Is a saint, ,of course-
ami that fellow Craig’s! What a trump
he is! Aud without his religion he’d
be pretty much like the. rest of us. It
Is too much for me.”
His mystery was not mine. Black
Rock varieties of religion were certain
ly startling, but there was undoubt
edly the streak of reality through them
all, und that discovery I felt to be a
distinct gain. *
HE gloom of the great fire
througlT the windows et the
great camp gave a kindly
welcome as we drove into
the clearing In which the ehantles
stood. Graeme was greatly touched
at his enthusiastic welcome* b> the
men. At the supper table he* made a
little speech of thanks for tUtir faith
fulness during his absence, specially
commending the care and efficiency,
of Mr. Nelson, who had had charge of
the camp. The men cheered, wildly.
Baptiste’s shrill voice,leading all. Nel
son, being called upon, expressed la a
few words his pleasure at seeing the
boss back and thanked the men for
their support while he bod been* in
ebafge.
The men were for making a night
of it; but, .fearifig the effect upon
Graeme, I spoke to Nelson, who- pass
ed the word, 'and Ih a short time
the camp was quiet. As we saun
tered from the grub camp to the office,
where was our bed, we pdused te lake
iu the beauty of the night. The aOon
rode high over the peaks of the moua’-
tains, flooding the narrow valley with
mellow light. Under her magie the
rugged peaks softened their harsh lines
and seemed to lean lovingly toward us.
The dark pine masses stood silent, as
iu breathteks adoration. The dazzling
•uow lay like a garment over ail the
Open spaces In soft, waviug'folds and
crowded every stump with a quaintly
shaped nightcap. Above the camps the
smoke curled tip from the campfires,
standing like pillars of cloud that kept
watch while men slept, amT tfigh.over
all the deep blue night sky, with its
star jewels, sprang Ilk* the roof of a
groat cathedral from rauge to range,
covering us in its kiudly shelter. Hew
homelike aud safe seemed the valley,
with its mountain sides, ks sentinel
trees and archiug roof of Jeweled sky!
then the night seemed kindly, and
friendly the stars, and .the lone cry of
the wolf fsotu thi deep fWest seemed
like the voice of a comrade.
“Bow beautiful! Too boautiful!” said
Graeme, stretdhlug out his arms. “A
night like this fakes the heart out of
me.”
I stood silent, drinking In at every
sense tho night, with its wealth of
loveliness.
“What Is it I w*ntV he vyent on.
“Why doe* tho night make my heart
ache? There are things to seo and
things to hear Just btyonJ me. I can
not get to them.”
The gny, careless look was gone from
his face. His dark eyes were wlsfful
with’yearning.
“I often wonder if life has tfetblqg
better for the,” he contluucd with his
heartache voice.
I said no word, but put my arm with-
lu his. A light appeared in the itable.
Glad <Jf a diversion, I said:
••What is the light? Let us go and
•ee.”
“Sandy, taking a last look at his
team, like tflaag&T “
(To be continued.)
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