Books: THE PROSPECTOR
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RALPH CONNOR >> THE PROSPECTOR
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"He's in! he's in!" shrieks Betty, wildly waving her hand.
"Will it be a win, think ye?" anxiously inquires Shock's mother. "It
will hardly be that, I doubt. But, eh--h, yon's the lad."
"Down! down!" cries the 'Varsity captain. "Get off the man! Get off
the man! Let him up, there!"
But the McGill men are slow to move.
"Get up!" roars Shock, picking them off and hurling them aside.
"Get up, men! Get up! That ball is down," yells the referee through
the din, into the ears of those who are holding The Don in a death
grip.
With difficulty they are persuaded to allow him to rise. When he
stands up, breathless, bleeding at the mouth, but otherwise sound,
the crowd of 'Varsity admirers go into a riot of rapture, throwing
up caps, hugging each other in ecstatic war dances, while the team
walk quietly about recovering their wind, and resisting the efforts
of their friends to elevate them.
"Quit it!" growls Campbell. "Get off the field! Get back, you
hoodlums!"
Meantime Huntingdon is protesting to the referee.
"I claim that ball was fairly held, back there. Balfour was brought
to a dead stand."
"How do you know, Huntingdon?" returns Campbell. "Your head was down
in the scrim."
"I could see his legs. I know his boots."
It is true that The Don has a peculiar toe on his boots.
"Oh," jeers Campbell scornfully, "that's all rot, you know,
Huntingdon."
"Look here, Campbell, listen to what I say. I want you to remember I
am speaking the truth."
Huntingdon's quiet tone has its effect.
"I would never think of challenging your word," replies Campbell,
"but I think it is quite impossible that you could absolutely know
that The Don came to a dead stand."
"I repeat, I can pick out Balfour's boots from a whole crowd, and I
know he was brought to a stand. I am prepared to swear that. Can any
man swear to the contrary?"
"Why, certainly," cries Campbell, "half a dozen men can. There's
Shock, who was right behind him."
But Shock thus appealed to, hesitates. He has an unfortunate
conscience.
"I can't say for sure," he says, looking piteously, at his captain.
"Weren't you moving all the time, Shock?"
"Well, I was shoving all the time."
"But hold on," says Huntingdon. "Will you say that Balfour was never
brought to a stand? Will you swear that?"
"Well, I cannot say for sure," replies Shock in great distress. "It
was not very long, anyway."
Yells of triumphant laughter break from the McGill crowd.
The referee is in great difficulty. He has a reputation for courage
and fairness. He hesitates a moment or two, and then, while the
crowd wait breathless for his decision, says, "You can all see that
it is almost impossible to be certain, but on the whole I shall give
it a 'hold.'"
It was a bitter moment to the 'Varsity men, but Campbell is a true
sport.
"Shut up, men," he says in answer to the loud protests of his team.
"Get behind the ball."
Every second is precious now, and the line is only three feet away.
Again the field is cleared. The teams, springing to their places in
the scrimmage, began to shove furiously before the ball is in play.
"Get up, men!" says the referee. "You must get up. Let me get this
ball in. Get up, McGill! Get off your knees!" for the McGill men are
on their goal line in an attitude of devotion.
Again and again the scrimmage is formed, only be broken by the
eagerness of the combatants. At length the referee succeeds in
placing the ball. Instantly Shock is upon it, and begins to crawl
toward the line with half a dozen men on his back, gripping him by
nose, ears, face, throat, wherever a hand can find a vulnerable
spot.
"Hold there!" calls the referee. "'Varsity ball."
"Get off the man! Get off!" cry the 'Varsity men, pulling the McGill
fellows by legs and heads, till at length Shock rises from the
bottom of the heap, grimy, bloody, but smiling, grimly holding to
the ball. He has made six inches. The line is two feet and a half
away.
It is again 'Varsity's ball, however, and that means a great deal,
for with Campbell lies the choice of the moment for attack.
Placing Shock on the wing, and summoning his halves and quarters,
Campbell prepares for a supreme effort. It is obviously the place
for the screw.
The McGill men are down, crouching on hands and feet, some on their
knees.
Campbell refuses to play and appeals to the referee in a tone of
righteous indignation, "What sort of game is this? Look at those
fellows!"
"Get up McGill! Get up, or I'll penalise you," says the referee.
Everyone knows he will keep his word. There is a movement on the
part of McGill to rise. Campbell seizes the opportunity, lowers his
head, and with a yell drops the ball in front of Shock. In the whirl
of the screw the ball slips out to Brown, who tips it to The Don,
but before he can take a single step half a dozen men are upon him
and he is shoved back a couple of feet.
"Man, man," ejaculates the old lady, "will you not be careful!"
"I say!" exclaims old Black to a McGill enthusiast whom he had
fought in the famous championship battle four years ago. "This is
something like."
"Great ball," replies his friend. "We'll hold them yet. I've often
seen a ball forced back from two feet off the line."
It is still the 'Varsity ball. The crowds are howling like maniacs,
while the policeman and field censors are vainly trying to keep the
field decently clear.
The Don resigns the ball to the captain and falls in behind. Every
man is wet, panting, disfigured, but eager for the fight. Again the
scrim forms, only to fall upon the ball.
"Dead ball," announces the referee, and both teams begin to
manoeuvre for advantage of position. A few inches is a serious
thing.
Again the ball is placed and the men throw themselves upon it, Shock
as usual at the bottom of the heap with the ball under him.
Old Black runs up through the crowd and whispers in Campbell's ear,
"Put Balfour and Martin in the scrim. They are fresher." He has
noticed that the scrim line on both sides is growing stale, and can
do no more than grimly hold on. At once Campbell sees the wisdom of
this suggestion. The Don, though not so heavy as Shock, is quite as
strong, and is quicker than the big centre, who is beginning to show
the effect of the tremendous series of scrimmages he has just passed
through. Martin, though neither so strong nor so heavy, is like an
eel.
Quietly Campbell thrusts the halves into the first line on the
right, whispering to Shock, "Let Balfour have it, and back him up."
As The Don gets the ball Campbell throws himself behind him with the
yell, "'Varsity! now!" At the same instant The Don drops the ball,
and with the weight of the whole team behind him begins to bore
through the enemy.
For a few moments both teams hang in the balance, neither giving an
inch, when old Black, yelling and waving wildly, attracts the
attention of Bate.
"Go in!" he cries. "Go in!" and Bate, coming up with a rush, throws
himself behind the scrim.
His weight turns the scale. Slowly at first, but gaining momentum
with every inch, the mass yields, sways, and begins to move. The
McGill men, shoving, hacking, scragging, fighting fiercely, finally
dropping on their knees, strive to check that relentless advance. It
is in vain. Their hour has come.
With hoarse cries, regardless of kicks and blows, trampling on
prostrate foes, and followed by a mob of spectators tumultuously
cheering, the 'Varsity wedge cleaves its way, till on the other side
The Don appears with the ball hugged to his breast and Huntingdon
hanging to his throat. A final rush and the ball is down. "The ball
is down!" cries the referee, and almost immediately time is called.
The great match is over. By four points 'Varsity holds the
championship of the Dominion.
"The greatest match ever played on this ground," cries old Black,
pushing through the crowd to Campbell, with both hands outstretched.
After him comes the Montreal captain.
"I congratulate you most heartily," he says, in a voice that breaks
in spite of all he can do.
"Thanks, old man," says Campbell quietly. "It was a case of sheer
luck."
"Not a bit of it," replies Huntingdon, recovering himself. "You have
a great team. I never saw a better."
"Well," replies Campbell heartily, "I have just seen as good, and
there's none we would rather win from than McGill."
"And none," replies Huntingdon, "McGill would rather lick than
'Varsity."
Meantime Shock, breaking from a crowd of admirers who are bound to
carry him in on their shoulders, makes for the Fairbanks carriage,
and greets his mother quietly.
"Well, mother, it's over at last."
"Ay, it is. Poor fellows, they will be feeling bad. But come along,
laddie. You will be needing your supper, I doubt."
Shock laughs loud. He knows his mother, and needs no words to tell
him her heart is bursting with pride and triumph.
"Come in. Let us have the glory of driving you home," cries Betty.
"In this garb?" laughs Shock.
"That's the garb of your glory," says Helen, her fine eyes lustrous
with excitement.
"Come, Hamish man, you will get your things and we will be waiting
for you."
"Very well," he replies, turning away. "I will be only a minute."
He is not allowed to escape, but with a roar the crowd seize him,
lift him shoulder high, and chanting, "Shock! Shock! we--like--
Shock!" bear him away, in triumph.
"Eh, what are the daft laddies saying now?" inquires the old lady,
struggling hard to keep out of her voice the pride that shone in her
eyes.
"Listen," cries Helen, her eyes shining with the same light. "Listen
to them," and beating time with her hand she joins in the chant,
"Shock! Shock! we--like--Shock."
III
THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS
The Superintendent had come from the West on his spring round-up.
New settlements in anticipation of and following the new Railway,
old settlements in British Columbia valleys, formed twenty years ago
and forgotten, ranches of the foot-hill country, the mining camps to
the north and south of the new line--these were beginning to fire
the imagination of older Canada. Fresh from the new and wonderful
land lying west of the Great Lakes, with its spell upon him, its
miseries, its infamies, its loneliness aching in his heart, but with
the starlight of its promise burning in his eyes, he came to tell
the men of the Colleges of their duty, their privilege, their
opportunity waiting in the West. For the most part his was a voice
crying in the wilderness. Not yet had Canadians come to their faith
in their Western Empire. Among the great leaders were still found
those who poured contempt upon the project of the trans-continental
railway, and even those who favoured the scheme based their support
upon political rather than upon economic grounds. It was all so far
away and all so unreal that men who prided themselves upon being
governed by shrewd business sense held aloof from western
enterprises, waiting in calm assurance for their certain collapse.
Still, here and there men like Bompas, McLean, McDougall, and
Robertson were holding high the light that fell upon prairie and
foothill, mountain peak and canyon, where speculators, adventurers,
broken men, men with shamed names seeking hiding, and human wolves
seeking their prey were pouring in.
Discouraged with the results of his work in the Eastern Colleges,
the Superintendent arrived at Knox, and to-night he stood facing the
crowd of students and their friends that filled the long Dining Hall
to overflowing. With heart hot from disappointment and voice
strident with intensity of emotion, he told of the things he had
seen and heard in that great new land. Descriptions of scenery,
statistics, tales humorous and pathetic, patriotic appeal, and
prophetic vision came pouring forth in an overwhelming flood from
the great man, whose tall, sinewy form swayed and rocked in his
passion, and whose Scotch voice burred through his sonorous periods.
"For your Church, for your fellowmen, for Canada," rang out his last
appeal, and the men passed out into the corridor toward the Entrance
Hall, silent or conversing in low, earnest tones. There was none of
the usual chaffing or larking. They had been thinking great thoughts
and seeing great visions.
"I want to thank you for asking me in to-night, Lloyd," said The
Don. His voice was quiet and his fine eyes were lustrous with light.
"That man ought to be in Parliament. I shall see that country soon,
I hope. What a master he is! What a grasp! What handling of facts!
There's a great Canadian, I say, and he ought to be in Parliament."
The men gathered round, for the great 'Varsity half back was well
known and well liked in that company; but they all knew him as one
of the gay 'Varsity set, and some of the older men knew, too, that
in his early college career were passages that neither he nor his
friends cared to remember. Hence all of them, but especially Shock,
whom he loved, and Lloyd, whom he greatly admired, listened with
surprise to The Don's enthusiastic words, for they both had stood
beside him in those dark days, and had played toward him the
brother's part. The men waited in silence for Lloyd's reply. They
knew him to be by far the strongest man in the college, the readiest
in debate, as well as the most popular in the pulpit; but, with the
sure instinct of college men, they had come to recognise his
ambitious spirit, and, indeed, to be more influenced by it than they
would have cared to acknowledge.
"Yes," said Lloyd, "it was certainly a statesman-like address. It
contained all the elements of a great speech. But he--of course--
well--he sees only one thing--The West."
"That's right," said little Brown, who had come in at Shock's
earnest invitation, and because he was anxious to hear about the new
country from one who was coming to be recognised as an authority,
"he sees one thing sure enough. I say, what a drummer he'd make!
Talk like that is worth
100 a minute to any firm. I'll put my Governor on to him. When that
chap opened his sample case he wouldn't talk weather and politics,
and then sidle up to business. Not much! He'd give them Brown's Axle
Oil, Brown's Baking Powder, or anything else of Brown's he was
showing, till his customer would see nothing but Brown's Axle Oil
and Brown's Baking Powder all over his shop, and he'd be reaching
for the whole output. One thing! You bet!"
A general laugh of approval followed Brown's speech.
"That's true enough," said Lloyd in a tone of calm superiority, "but
there is other work to do and other places to do it in."
"The Park Church, for instance, eh, Lloyd?" suggested the voice
slyly.
"Why not?" answered Lloyd. "The centres must be manned--that's a
safe principle in strategy."
"Certainly," cried another voice ironically. "Our neglected masses!"
"Yes, and neglected classes, too." Lloyd's tone was earnest and
sincere.
"I agree with you, Lloyd," said The Don emphatically, "if any
fellows need to be, ah--well--shaken up, you know, it's us poor
devils who attend the city churches. For my part, I would like to
see you in the Park Church, and I promise you I would go regularly."
On all sides there was frank approval of The Don's position, while
Lloyd, flushed and laughing, lightly replied: "Oh, there won't be
any trouble, I fancy, in getting a man for the Park Church."
"Not in the least, I assure you," said Brown. "Brown Bros.,
Commission Merchants, etc., etc., will undertake to supply men in
half-dozen lots willing for a consideration to offer themselves upon
the altar of Park Church."
"There's more than willingness necessary, unfortunately, and
besides, lots of men would be willing to go West," answered Lloyd.
"Yes, and lots of men deucedly unwilling, too, from what your old
man there says, not to speak of the young lady, who apparently must
also be willing. Oh! I say, wasn't that a great yarn; and if ever
that chap gets a look at himself from that particular point. of
view, that 'll be the time to buy him."
"Brown, my boy," said The Don solemnly, "your limitations are
obvious. The commercial in you has run to seed."
"That may be, but I can spot a man that knows how to show his goods,
and when that old gentleman set forth the West in those high lights
of his, I tell you what, I almost wished I was a Theologue."
"What a pity you are not," replied The Don thoughtfully, "for
apparently they want strong men." At which the crowd again laughed
"What's the matter with Shock?" suggested someone; "he's a good
strong man." There was a general laugh.
"You're the man, Shock. You would clear out those saloons."
"Can you ride a broncho, Shock?"
At the good-natured chaff Shock blushed a deeper red than usual. No
one expected much of poor Shock. Indeed, most of his classmates
wondered if he would ever "get a place," and none more than Shock
himself.
But Brown, resenting the laugh and its all too evident implication,
replied indignantly: "You bet Shock's the man for the West, or any
place else where solid men are wanted, and where Shock goes there
will be something doing! And," striking an attitude, "the country
will be the better for it! Oh, I am a Canadian!" he continued,
smiting his breast dramatically. "Come along, Shock, we've got an
appointment," and Brown, linking his arm affectionately through that
of his big friend, stuck his cap on the back of his head and marched
off whistling "The Maple Leaf."
"Say!" he cried, as he passed out into the street, "won't a lot of
those fellows volunteer, or will they hunt round for a nice little
bunk in Ontario?"
"Many would like to go if they could," said Shock thoughtfully, "but
you know there are many things that must be considered."
"Young ladies, eh?" asked Brown with a laugh.
"Oh! didn't he tell that yarn well? It was great. But I'd hate to be
the fellow."
"But you are not fair," replied Shock. "A man can't answer every
appeal. He must think what he is fit for, and, in short, where he is
called to work. There's Lloyd, now--"
"Oh, Lloyd!" broke in Brown impatiently. "He's a quitter."
"Not he. He's anything but that."
"No," owned Brown, "he's not a quitter, but he puts in overtime
thinking of what's good for Lloyd. Of course, I do that sort of
thing myself, but from a fellow like Lloyd one expects something
better."
Soon they were at Shock's door.
"Come in," said Shock cordially, "mother will be glad to see you."
And Brown went in.
IV
ONLY ONE CLAIM
It always gave Brown a sense of content to enter the Macgregor
cottage. Even among the thrifty North country folk the widow
Macgregor's home, while not as pretentious as those of the well-to-
do farmers, had been famous as a model of tidy house-keeping. Her
present home was a little cottage of three rooms with the kitchen at
the back. The front room where Mrs. Macgregor received her few
visitors, and where Shock did most of his reading, except when
driven to his bedroom by the said visitors, was lighted by two
candles in high, polished, old-fashioned brass candlesticks, and by
the fire from the hearth, which radiated a peace and comfort which
even the shiny hair-cloth chairs and sofa and the remaining somewhat
severe furniture of the room could not chill. It was the hearth and
mantel that had decided Mrs. Macgregor and Shock in their purchase
of the little cottage, which in many eyes was none too desirable. On
the walls hung old-fashioned prints of Robbie Burns and his Highland
Mary, the Queen and the Prince Consort, one or two quaint family
groups, and over the mantel a large portrait of a tall soldier in
full Highland dress. Upon a bracket in a corner stood a glass case
enclosing a wreath of flowers wrought in worsted, and under it in a
frame hung a sampler with the Lord's Prayer similarly wrought. On
one side of the room stood a clock upon a shelf, flanked by the
Family Bible and such books as "The Saint's Rest," "Holy Living,"
"The Fourfold State," "Scots Worthies," all ancient and well worn.
On the other side stood a bookcase which was Shock's, and beside it
a table where he did his work. Altogether it was a very plain room,
but the fireplace and the shining candlesticks and the rag carpet on
the floor redeemed it from any feeling of discomfort, while the
flowers that filled the windows left an air of purity and sweetness.
"Come away, my lad, come away," said Mrs. Macgregor, who sat
knitting by the fire. "The night is chill enough. Come away up to
the fire."
"Thanks, Mrs. Macgregor," said Brown, "it does me good to look at
you by the fire there with your knitting. When I'm an old man I only
hope I'll have a cozy hearthstone like this to draw up to, and on
the other side a cozy old lady like you with pink cheeks like these
which I must now kiss."
"Tut, tut, it's a daft laddie you are whatever," said the old lady,
blushing a little, but not ill-pleased. "Sit ye down yonder." Brown,
ever since his illness, when Mrs. Macgregor and Shock had nursed him
back from death's door two years ago, was one of the family, and,
indeed, he used endearments with the old lady that the
undemonstrative Shock would never have dared to use. "Ye're late,
Hamish. Surely yon man had much to say," said his mother, looking
lovingly upon her great, sturdy son.
"That he had, mother, and great it was, I can tell you."
Then Shock proceeded, after his habit, to give his mother a full
share of what he had been enjoying. Mrs. Macgregor listened
intently, pausing now and then in her knitting to ejaculate, "Well-
a-well!" "Look at that, now!" "Hear to him!" When Shock had
finished, Brown broke in: "It was truly magnificent, I assure you,
Mrs. Macgregor, and the enthusiasm of the man! And his yarns! Oh, he
is truly, great!"
"And what would he be doing at the college?" enquired the old lady.
"There would not be much money there, I doubt."
"Men, mother, men," cried Shock with some excitement. "Volunteers
for the Great West, and a hard time he is having, too, what with the
foreign field, and needy vacancies in this country, and city
pulpits, and the like."
Mrs. Macgregor sat silent, her needles flying fast and her lips
pressed together.
"I wish you could have heard him, Mrs. Macgregor," said Brown,
enthusiastically. "He has a tongue like a rasp, and at times it
takes off the skin. That was fine, Shock, about the fellows who
could not give him answer till they had asked the Lord about it. 'I
find a good many men,' the old chap said, 'who, after anxiously
enquiring as to the work expected of them, remuneration, prospects
of advance, etc., always want to lay the matter before the Lord
before giving their answer. And I am beginning to think that the
Lord has some grudge against the West, for almost invariably He
appears to advise these men to leave it severely alone.' Oh, it was
great!" Little Brown hugged his knee in delight at the memory of
that rasping tongue.
"But surely there are plenty of men," said Mrs. Macgregor a little
impatiently, "for there's no want of them whateffer when a
congregation falls vacant."
"That's so," replied Brown; "but you see he wants only first-class
men--men ready for anything in the way of hardship, and not to be
daunted by man or devil."
"Ou ay!" said the old lady, nodding her head grimly; "he will not be
finding so many of yon kind."
"But it must be a great country," went on Brown. "You ought to bear
him tell of the rivers with sands of gold, running through beds of
coal sixty feet thick."
The old lady shook her cap at him, peering over her glasses. "Ye're
a gay callant, and you will be taking your fun off me"
"But it's true. Ask Shock there."
"What?" said Shock, waking up from a deep study. Brown explained.
" Yes," said Shock. "The sands of the Saskatchewan are full of gold,
and you know, mother, about the rivers in Cariboo."
"Ay, I remember fine the Cariboo, and Cariboo Cameron and his gold.
But not much good did it do him, poor fellow."
"But," said Shock, gazing into the fire, "it was terrible to hear
his tales of these men in the mines with their saloons and awful
gambling places, and the men and women in their lonely shacks in the
foot-hills. My! I could see them all."
Mrs. Macgregor looked sharply into her son's face, then laying her
knitting down in her lap she turned to him and said severely, "And
what took them out yonder? And did they not know what-na country it
was before they went out?"
"Yes," said Shock, still looking into the fire, "but there they are,
Mother, there they are, and no living soul to speak a good word to
them."
"Well then," said the old lady, even more impatiently, "let them put
up with it, as better before them have done to their credit, ay, and
to their good as well."
"Meantime the saloons and worse are getting them," replied Shock,
"and fine fellows they are, too, he says."
"And is yon man wanting the lads from the college to go out yonder
to those terrible-like mines and things so far from their homes? Why
does he not send the men who are wanting places?" Mrs. Macgregor's
tone was unusually sharp. Both Shock and Brown looked at her in
surprise.
"Yes, you may look," she went on, "but I say let them that's not
needed here go out yonder, and there will be plenty of them, I
warrant."
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