FullReads

“He will find a hardened pagan here.”

“Judge Henry?”

“Oh, no! The wild man you’re taming. He’s brought you Kenilworth safe back.”

She was smooth. “Oh, as for taming him! But don’t you find him intelligent?”

Suddenly I somehow knew that she didn’t want to tame him. But what did she want to do? The thought of her had made him blush this afternoon. No thought of him made her blush this evening.

A great laugh from the rest of the company made me aware that the Judge had consummated his tale of the “Sole Survivor.”

“And so,” he finished, “they all went off as mad as hops because it hadn’t been a massacre.” Mr. and Mrs. Ogden–they were the New Yorkers–gave this story much applause, and Dr. MacBride half a minute later laid his “ha-ha,” like a heavy stone, upon the gaiety.

“I’ll never be able to stand seven sermons,” said Miss Wood to me.

* * * * *

“Do you often have these visitations?” Ogden inquired of Judge Henry. Our host was giving us whisky in his office, and Dr. MacBride, while we smoked apart from the ladies, had repaired to his quarters in the foreman’s house previous to the service which he was shortly to hold.

The Judge laughed. “They come now and then through the year. I like the bishop to come. And the men always like it. But I fear our friend will scarcely please them so well.”

“You don’t mean they’ll–“

“Oh, no. They’ll keep quiet. The fact is, they have a good deal better manners than he has, if he only knew it. They’ll be able to bear him. But as for any good he’ll do–“

“I doubt if he knows a word of science,” said I, musing about the Doctor.

“Science! He doesn’t know what Christianity is yet. I’ve entertained many guests, but none–The whole secret,” broke off Judge Henry, “lies in the way you treat people. As soon as you treat men as your brothers, they are ready to acknowledge you–if you deserve it–as their superior. That’s the whole bottom of Christianity, and that’s what our missionary will never know.”

* * * * *

Thunder sat imminent upon the missionary’s brow. Many were to be at his mercy soon. But for us he had sunshine still. “I am truly sorry to be turning you upside down,” he said importantly. “But it seems the best place for my service.” He spoke of the table pushed back and the chairs gathered in the hall, where the storm would presently break upon the congregation. “Eight-thirty?” he inquired.

This was the hour appointed, and it was only twenty minutes off. We threw the unsmoked fractions of our cigars away, and returned to offer our services to the ladies. This amused the ladies. They had done without us. All was ready in the hall.

“We got the cook to help us,” Mrs. Ogden told me, “so as not to disturb your cigars. In spite of the cow-boys, I still recognize my own country.”

“In the cook?” I rather densely asked.

“Oh, no! I don’t have a Chinaman. It’s in the length of after-dinner cigars.”

“Had you been smoking,” I returned, “you would have found them short this evening.”

“You make it worse,” said the lady; “we have had nothing but Dr. MacBride.”

“We’ll share him with you now,” I exclaimed.

“Has he announced his text? I’ve got one for him,” said Molly Wood, joining us. She stood on tiptoe and spoke it comically in our ears. “‘I said in my haste, All men are liars.'” This made us merry as we stood among the chairs in the congested hall.

I left the ladies, and sought the bunk house. I had heard the cheers, but I was curious also to see the men, and how they were taking it. There was but little for the eye. There was much noise in the room. They were getting ready to come to church,–brushing their hair, shaving, and making themselves clean, amid talk occasionally profane and continuously diverting.