I shall never forget that service.As a religious affair it was a dead failure, but somehow I think The Pilot, as Hi approvingly said, "got in his funny work," and it was not wholly a defeat.The first hymn was sung chiefly by the missionary and Mrs.Muir, whose voice was very high, with one or two of the men softly whistling an accompaniment.The second hymn was better, and then came the Lesson, the story of the feeding of the five thousand.As the missionary finished the story, Bill, who had been listening with great interest, said:
"I say, pard, I think I'll call you just now.""I beg your pardon!" said the startled missionary.
"You're givin' us quite a song and dance now, ain't you?""I don't understand," was the puzzled reply.
"How many men was there in the crowd?" asked Bill, with a judicial air.
"Five thousand."
"And how much grub?"
"Five loaves and two fishes," answered Bruce for the missionary.
"Well," drawled Bill, with the air of a man who has reached a conclusion, "that's a little too unusual for me.Why," looking pityingly at the missionary, "it ain't natarel.""Right you are, my boy," said Bruce, with a laugh."It's deucedly unnatural.""Not for Him," said the missionary, quietly.Then Bruce joyfully took him up and led him on into a discussion of evidences, and from evidences into metaphysics, the origin of evil and the freedom of the will, till the missionary, as Bill said, "was rattled worse nor a rooster in the dark." Poor little Mrs.Muir was much scandalized and looked anxiously at her husband, wishing him to take her out.
But help came from an unexpected quarter, and Hi suddenly called out:
"Here you, Bill, shut your blanked jaw, and you, Bruce, give the man a chance to work off his music.""That's so! Fair play! Go on!" were the cries that came in response to Hi's appeal.
The missionary, who was all trembling and much troubled, gave Hi a grateful look, and said:
"I'm afraid there are a great many things I don't understand, and Iam not good at argument." There were shouts of "Go on! fire ahead, play the game!" but he said, "I think we will close the service with a hymn." His frankness and modesty, and his respectful, courteous manner gained the sympathy of the men, so that all joined heartily in singing, "Sun of My Soul." In the prayer that followed his voice grew steady and his nerve came back to him.The words were very simple, and the petitions were mostly for light and for strength.With a few words of remembrance of "those in our homes far away who think of us and pray for us and never forget," this strange service was brought to a close.
After the missionary had stepped out, the whole affair was discussed with great warmth.Hi Kendal thought "The Pilot didn't have no fair show," maintaining that when he was "ropin' a steer he didn't want no blanked tenderfoot to be shovin' in his rope like Bill there." But Bill steadily maintained his position that "the story of that there picnic was a little too unusual" for him.
Bruce was trying meanwhile to beguile The Duke into a discussion of the physics and metaphysics of the case.But The Duke refused with quiet contempt to be drawn into a region where he felt himself a stranger.He preferred poker himself, if Bruce cared to take a hand; and so the evening went on, with the theological discussion by Hi and Bill in a judicial, friendly spirit in one corner, while the others for the most part played poker.
When the missionary returned late there were only a few left in the room, among them The Duke and Bruce, who was drinking steadily and losing money.The missionary's presence seemed to irritate him, and he played even more recklessly than usual, swearing deeply at every loss.At the door the missionary stood looking up into the night sky and humming softly "Sun of My Soul," and after a few minutes The Duke joined in humming a bass to the air till Bruce could contain himself no longer.
"I say," he called out, "this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is it?"The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly:
"Well, what is it? What's the trouble?"
"Trouble!" shouted Bruce."I don't see what hymn-singing has to do with a poker game.""Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing?" said The Duke.Then after a pause he added, "You're quite right.I say, Bruce, let's quit.Something has got on to your nerves." And coolly sweeping his pile into his pocket, he gave up the game.With an oath Bruce left the table, took another drink, and went unsteadily out to his horse, and soon we heard him ride away into the darkness, singing snatches of the hymn and swearing the most awful oaths.
The missionary's face was white with horror.It was all new and horrible to him.
"Will he get safely home?" he asked of The Duke.
"Don't you worry, youngster," said The Duke, in his loftiest manner, "he'll get along."The luminous, dreamy eyes grew hard and bright as they looked The Duke in the face.
"Yes, I shall worry; but you ought to worry more.""Ah!" said The Duke, raising his brows and smiling gently upon the bright, stern young face lifted up to his."I didn't notice that Ihad asked your opinion."
"If anything should happen to him," replied the missionary, quickly, "I should consider you largely responsible.""That would be kind," said The Duke, still smiling with his lips.
But after a moment's steady look into the missionary's eyes he nodded his head twice or thrice, and, without further word, turned away.
The missionary turned eagerly to me:
"They beat me this afternoon," he cried, "but thank God, I know now they are wrong and I am right! I don't understand! I can't see my way through! But I am right! It's true! I feel it's true! Men can't live without Him, and be men!"And long after I went to my shack that night I saw before me the eager face with the luminous eyes and heard the triumphant cry: "Ifeel it's true! Men can't live without Him, and be men!" and Iknew that though his first Sunday ended in defeat there was victory yet awaiting him.
