CHAPTER XI
THE WAKE
The wake was an important feature in the social life of the people ofIndian Lands. In ancient days, in the land of their forefathers, thewake had been deemed a dire necessity for the safeguarding of the dead,who were supposed to be peculiarly exposed to the malicious attacksof evil spirits. Hence, with many lighted candles, and with muchincantation, friends would surround the body through the perilous hoursof darkness. It was a weird and weary vigil, and small wonder if itappeared necessary that the courage and endurance of the watchers shouldbe fortified with copious draughts of "mountain dew," with bread andcheese accompaniments. And the completeness of their trust in theefficacy of such supports was too often evidenced by the condition ofthe watchers toward the dawn of the morning. And, indeed, if the spiritswere not too fastidious, and if they had so desired, they could haveeasily flown away, not only with the "waked," but with the "wakers" aswell.
But those days and those notions had long passed away. The wake stillremained, but its meaning and purpose had changed. No longer for theguarding of the dead, but for the comfort of the living, the friendsgathered to the house of mourning and watched the weary hours. ButHighland courtesy forbade that the custom of refreshing the watchersshould be allowed to die out, and hence, through the night, once andagain, the whisky, bread, and cheese were handed around by some closefriend of the family, and were then placed upon the table for generaluse. It was not surprising that, where all were free to come andwelcome to stay, and where anything like scantiness in providing orniggardliness in serving would be a matter of family disgrace, the wakeoften degenerated into a frolic, if not a debauch. In order to checkany such tendency, it had been the custom of late years to introducereligious services, begun by the minister himself and continued by theelders.
As the evening fell, a group of elders stood by the back door of LongJohn Cameron's sorrow-stricken home, talking quietly over the sad eventand arranging for the "exercises" of the night. At a little distancefrom them sat Yankee, with Ranald beside him, both silent and listeningsomewhat indifferently to the talk of the others. Yankee was not in hiselement. He was always welcome in the homes of his comrades, for he wasready with his tongue and clever with his fingers, but with the graverand religious side of their lives he had little in common. It was,perhaps, this feeling that drew him toward Macdonald Dubh and Ranald, sothat for weeks at a time he would make their house his home. He had "nouse for wakes," as he said himself, and had it not been that it was oneof the gang that lay dead within, Yankee would have avoided the houseuntil all was over and the elders safely away.
Of the elders, only four were present as yet: Donald Ross, who was everready to bring the light of his kindly face to cheer the hearts of themourners; Straight Rory, who never, by any chance, allowed himselfto miss the solemn joy of leading the funeral psalm; Peter McRae, whocarried behind his stern old face a heart of genuine sympathy; and KennyCrubach, to whom attendance at funerals was at once a duty and a horror.
Donald Ross, to whom all the elders accorded, instinctively, the placeof leader, was arranging the order of "the exercises."
"Mr. McCuaig," he said to Straight Rory, "you will take charge of thesinging. The rest of us will, in turn, give out a psalm and read aportion of Scripture with a few suitable remarks, and lead in prayer. Wewill not be forgetting, brethren," said old Donald, "that there will besore hearts here this night.'
Straight Rory's answer was a sigh so woeful and so deep that Yankeelooked over at him and remarked in an undertone to Ranald, "He ain't socheerful as he might be. He must feel awful inside."
"It is a sad and terrible day for the Camerons," said Peter McRae.
"Aye, it is sad, indeed," replied Donald Ross. "He was a good son andthey will be missing him bad. It is a great loss."
"Yes, the loss is great," said Peter, grimly. "But, after all, that is asmall thing."
Straight Rory sighed again even more deeply than before. Donald Rosssaid nothing.
"What does the old duck mean, anyhow?" said Yankee to Ranald.
The boy made no reply. His heart was sick with horror at Peter'smeaning, which he understood only too well.
"Aye," went on Peter, "it is a terrible, mysterious Providence, and aheavy warning to the ungodly and careless."
"He means me, I guess," remarked Yankee to Ranald.
"It will perhaps be not amiss to any of us," said Kenny Crubach,sharply.
"Indeed, that is true," said Donald Ross, in a very humble voice.
"Yes, Mr. Ross," said Peter, ignoring Kenny Crubach, "but at times thevoice of Providence cannot be misunderstood, and it will not do forthe elders of the church to be speaking soft things when the Lord isspeaking in judgment and wrath."
Donald was silent, while Straight Rory assented with a heartrending"Aye, aye," which stirred Yankee's bile again.
"What's he talkin' about? He don't seem to be usin' my language," hesaid, in a tone of wrathful perplexity. Ranald was too miserable toanswer, but Kenny was ready with his word.
"Judgment and wrath," he echoed, quickly. "The man would require to bevery skillful whatever in interpreting the ways of Providence, and verybold to put such a meaning into the death of a young man such as Malcolmyonder." The little man's voice was vibrating with feeling.
Then Yankee began to understand. "I'll be gol-blamed to a cinder!" heexclaimed, in a low voice, falling back upon a combination that seemedmore suitable to the circumstances. "They ain't sendin' him to hell,are they?" He shut up the knife with which he had been whittling with asharp snap, and rising to his feet, walked slowly over to the group ofelders.
"Far be it from me to judge what is not to be seen," said Peter. "Butwe are allowed and commanded to discern the state of the heart by thefruits."
"Fruits?" replied Kenny, quickly. "He was a good son and brother andfriend; he was honest and clean, and he gave his life for another at thelast."
"Exactly so," said Peter. "I am not denying much natural goodness, forindeed he was a fine lad; but I will be looking for the evidence that hewas in a state of grace. I have not heard of any, and glad would I be tohear it."
The old man's emotion took the sharpness out of Kenny's speech, but hepersisted, stoutly, "Goodness is goodness, Mr. McRae, for all that."
"You will not be holding the Armenian doctrine of works, Mr. Campbell?"said Peter, severely. "You would not be pointing to good works as aground of salvation?"
Yankee, who had been following the conversation intently, thought he sawmeaning in it at last.
"If I might take a hand," he said, diffidently, "I might contributesomethin' to help you out."
Peter regarded him a little impatiently. He had forgotten the concrete,for the moment, in the abstract, and was donning his armor for a battlewith Kenny upon the "fundamentals." Hence he was not too well pleasedwith Yankee's interruption. But Donald Ross gladly welcomed thediversion. The subject was to him extremely painful.
"We will be glad," he said to Yankee, "to hear you, Mr. Latham."
"Well," said Yankee, slowly, "from your remarks I gathered that youwanted information about the doings of--" he jerked his head toward thehouse behind him. "Now, I want to say," he continued, confidentially,"you've come to the right shop, for I've ate and slept, I've worked andfought, I've lived with him by day and by night, and right through hewas the straightest, whitest man I ever seen, and I won't except theboss himself." Yankee paused to consider the effect of this statement,and to allow its full weight to be appreciated; and then he continued:"Yes, sir, you may just bet your--you may be right well sure,"correcting himself, "that you're safe in givin'"--here he droppedhis voice, and jerked his head toward the house again--"in givin' thehighest marks, full value, and no discount. Why," he went on, with anenthusiasm rare in him, "ask any man in the gang, any man on the river,if they ever seen or heard of his doin' a mean or crooked thing, and ifyou find any feller who says he did, bring him here, and, by"--Yankeeremembered himself in time--"and I give you my solemn wo
rd that I'll eathim, hat and boots." Yankee brought his bony fist down with a whack intohis hand. Then he relapsed into his lazy drawl again: "No, siree, hoss!If it's doin's you're after, don't you be slow in bankin' your littleheap on HIS doin's."
Donald Ross grasped Yankee's hand and shook it hard. "I will be thankingyou for that word," he said, earnestly.
But Peter felt that the cause of truth demanded that he should speakout. "Mr. Latham," he said, solemnly, "what you have been saying isvery true, no doubt, but if a man is not 'born again he cannot see thekingdom of God.' These are the words of the Lord himself."
"Born again!" said Yankee. "How? I don't seem to get you. But I guessthe feller that does the right thing all round has got a purty goodchance."
"It is not a man's deeds, we are told," said Peter, patiently, "but hisheart."
"There you are," said Yankee, warmly, "right again, and that's what Ialways hold to. It's the heart a man carries round in his inside. Nevermind your talk, never mind your actin' up for people to see. Give me theheart that is warm and red, and beats proper time, you bet. Say! you'reall right." Yankee gazed admiringly at the perplexed and hopeless Peter.
"I am afraid you are not remembering what the Apostle Paul said, Mr.Latham," said Peter, determined to deal faithfully with Yankee. "'By thedeeds of the law shall no flesh be justified.'"
It was now Yankee's turn to gaze helplessly at Peter. "I guess you havedropped me again," he said, slowly.
"Man," said Peter, with a touch of severity, "you will need to be morefaithful with the Word of God. The Scriptures plainly declare, Mr.Latham, that it is impossible for a man to be saved in his naturalstate."
Yankee looked blank at this.
"The prophet says that the plowing and sowing, the very prayers, of thewicked are an abomination to the Lord."
"Why, now you're talkin', but look here." Yankee lowered his tone. "Lookhere, you wouldn't go for to call"--here again he jerked his head towardthe house--"wicked, would you? Fur if you do, why, there ain't any moreconversation between you and me."
Yankee was terribly in earnest.
"'There is none righteous, no, not one,'" quoted Peter, with the air ofa man who forces himself to an unpleasant duty.
"That's so, I guess," said Yankee, meditatively, "but it depends some onwhat you mean. I don't set myself up for any copy-book head-line, butas men go--men, say, just like you here--I'd put--I'd put him alongside,wouldn't you? You expect to get through yourself, I judge?"
This was turning the tables somewhat sharply upon Peter, but Yankee'skeen, wide-open eyes were upon him, and his intensely earnest mannerdemanded an answer.
"Indeed, if it will be so, it will not be for any merit of my own, butonly because of the mercy of the Lord in Christ Jesus." Peter's tone wassincerely humble.
"Guess you're all right," said Yankee, encouragingly; "and as for--asfor--him--don't you worry about that. You may be dead sure about hiscase."
But Peter only shook his head hopelessly. "You are sorely in need ofinstruction, Mr. Latham," he said, sadly. "We cannot listen to ourhearts in this matter. We must do honor to the justice of God, and theword is clear, 'Ye must be born again.' Nothing else avails." Peter'stone was final.
Then Yankee drew a little nearer to him, as if settling down to work.
"Now look here. You let me talk awhile. I ain't up in your side ofthe business, but I guess we are tryin' to make the same point. Nowsupposin' you was in for a hoss race, which I hope ain't no offense,seein' it ain't likely but suppose, and to take first money you had toperdoose a two-fifteen gait. 'Purty good lick,' says you; 'now wherewill I get the nag?' Then you sets down and thinks, and, says you, 'Bygum, which of course you wouldn't, but supposin' says you, 'a Blue Grassbred is the hoss for that gait'; and you begin to inquire around, butthere ain't no Blue Grass bred stock in the country, and that race iscreepin' up close. One day, just when you was beginnin' to figure ontakin' the dust to the hull field, you sees a colt comin' along the roadhittin' up a purty slick gait. 'Hello,' says you, 'that looks likely,'and you begin to negotiate, and you finds out that colt's all right andher time's two-ten. Then you begin to talk about the weather and thecrops until you finds out the price, and you offer him half money. Then,when you have fetched him down to the right figure, you pulls out yourwad, thinkin' how that colt will make the rest look like a line offence-posts. 'But hold on,' says you, 'is this here colt Blue Grassbred?' 'Blue Grass! Not much. This here's Grey Eagle stock, NorthVirginny' says he. 'Don't want her,' says you. 'What's the matter withthe colt?' says he. 'Nothin', only she ain't Blue Grass. Got to be BlueGrass.' 'But she's got the gait, ain't she?' 'Yes, the gait's all right,action fine, good-looking, too, nothing wrong, but she ain't Blue Grassbred.' And so you lose your race. Now what kind of a name would you callyourself?"
Peter saw Yankee's point, but he only shook his head more hopelesslythan before, and turned to enter the house, followed by Straight Rory,still sighing deeply, and old Donald Ross. But Kenny remained a momentbehind the others, and offering his hand to Yankee, said: "You are aright man, and I will be proud to know you better."
Yankee turned a puzzled face to Kenny. "I say," he inquired, in anamazed voice, "do you think he didn't catch on to me?"
Kenny nodded. "Yes, he understood your point."
"But look here," said Yankee, "they don't hold that--that he is--"Yankee paused. The thought was too horrible, and these men were experts,and were supposed to know.
"It's hard to say," said Kenny, diplomatically.
"See here," said Yankee, facing Kenny squarely, "you're a purtylevel-headed man, and you're up in this business. Do you think withthem? No monkeying. Straight talk now." Yankee was in no mood to betrifled with. He was in such deadly earnest that he had forgotten allabout Ranald, who was now standing behind him, waiting, with white faceand parted lips, for Kenny's answer.
"Whisht!" said Kenny, pointing into the kitchen behind. Yankee lookedand saw Bella Peter and her father entering. But Ranald was determinedto know Kenny's opinion.
"Mr. Campbell," he whispered, eagerly, and forgetting the respect due toan elder, he grasped Kenny's arm, "do you think with them?"
"That I do not," said Kenny, emphatically, and Yankee, at that word,struck his hand into Kenny's palm with a loud smack.
"I knew blamed well you were not any such dumb fool," he said,softening his speech in deference to Kenny's office and the surroundingcircumstances. So saying, he went away to the stable, and when Ranaldand his uncle, Macdonald Bhain, followed a little later to put up PeterMcGregor's team, they heard Yankee inside, swearing with a fluency andvigor quite unusual with him.
"Whisht, man!" said Macdonald Bhain, sternly. "This is no place or timeto be using such language. What is the matter with you, anyway?"
But Macdonald could get no satisfaction out of him, and he said to hisnephew, "What is it, Ranald?"
"It is the elders, Peter McRae and Straight Rory," said Ranald,sullenly. "They were saying that Mack was--that Mack was--"
"Look here, boss," interrupted Yankee, "I ain't well up in Scriptures,and don't know much about these things, and them elders do, and theysay--some of them, anyway--are sending Mack to hell. Now, I guess you'rejust as well up as they are in this business, and I want your solemnopinion." Yankee's face was pale, and his eyes were glaring like a wildbeast's. "What I say is," he went on, "if a feller like Mack goes tohell, then there ain't any. At least none to scare me. Where Mack iswill be good enough for me. What do you say, boss?"
"Be quiet, man," said Macdonald Bhain, gravely, but kindly. "Do you notknow you are near to blasphemy there? But I forgive you for the soreheart you have; and about poor Mack yonder, no one will be able to sayfor certain. I am a poor sinner, and the only claim I have to God'smercy is the claim of a poor sinner. But I will dare to say that I havehope in the Lord for myself, and I will say that I have a great dealmore for Mack."
"I guess that settles it all right, then," said Yankee, drawing a bigbreath of content and biting
off a huge chew from his plug. "But whatthe blank blank," he went on, savagely, "do these fellers mean, stirringup a man's feelin's like that? Seem to be not a bad sort, either," headded, meditatively.
"Indeed, they are good men," said Macdonald Bhain, "but they will not beknowing Mack as I knew him. He never made any profession at all, but hehad the root of the matter in him."
Ranald felt as if he had wakened out of a terrible nightmare, andfollowed his uncle into the house, with a happier heart than he hadknown since he had received Yankee's letter.
As they entered the room where the people were gathered, Donald Ross wasreading the hundred and third psalm, and the words of love and pity andsympathy were dropping from his kindly lips like healing balm uponthe mourning hearts, and as they rose and fell upon the cadences of"Coleshill," the tune Straight Rory always chose for this psalm, thehealing sank down into all the sore places, and the peace that passethunderstanding began to take possession of them.
Softly and sweetly they sang, the old women swaying with the music:
"For, as the heaven in its height The earth surmounteth far, So great to those that do him fear, His tender mercies are."
When they reached that verse, the mother took up the song and wentbravely on through the words of the following verse:
"As far as east is distant from The west, so far hath he From us removed, in his love, All our iniquity."
As she sang the last words her hand stole over to Bella, who sat besideher quiet but tearless, looking far away. But when the next words roseon the dear old minor strains,
"Such pity as a father hath Unto his children dear,"
Bella's lip began to tremble, and two big tears ran down her palecheeks, and one could see that the sore pain in her heart had been alittle eased.
After Donald Ross had finished his part of the "exercises," he calledupon Kenny Crubach, who read briefly, and without comment, the exquisiteScottish paraphrase of Luther's "little gospel":
"Behold the amazing gift of love The Father hath bestowed On us, the sinful sons of men, To call us sons of God--"
and so on to the end.
All this time Peter McRae, the man of iron, had been sitting withhardening face, his eyes burning in his head like glowing coals; andwhen Donald Ross called upon him for "some words of exhortation andcomfort suitable to the occasion," without haste and without hesitationthe old man rose, and trembling with excitement and emotion, he beganabruptly: "An evil spirit has been whispering to me, as to the prophetof old, 'Speak that which is good,' but the Lord hath delivered me frommine enemy, and my answer is, 'As the Lord liveth, what the Lord saidunto me, that will I speak'; and it is not easy."
As the old man paused, a visible terror fell upon all the companyassembled. The poor mother sat looking at him with the look of oneshrinking from a blow, while Bella Peter's face expressed only startledfear.
"And this is the word of the Lord this night to me," the elder went on,his voice losing its tremor and ringing out strong and clear: "'There isnone righteous, no, not one, for all have sinned and come short of theglory of God. He that believeth shall be saved, and he that believethnot shall be damned.' That is my message, and it is laid upon me as asore burden to hear the voice of the Lord in this solemn Providence, andto warn one and all to flee from the wrath to come."
He paused long, while men could hear their hearts beat. Then, raisinghis voice, he cried aloud: "Woe is me! Alas! it is a grievous burden.The Lord pity us all, and give grace to this stricken family to kiss therod that smites."
At this word the old man's voice suddenly broke, and he sat down amidan awful silence. No one could misunderstand his meaning. As the awfulhorror of it gradually made its way into her mind, Mrs. Cameron threw upher apron over her head and rocked in an agony of sobs, while Long Johnsat with face white and rigid. Bella Peter, who had been gazing witha fascinated stare upon the old elder's face while he was speaking histerrible words, startled by Mrs. Cameron's sobs, suddenly looked wildlyabout as if for help, and then, with a wild cry, fled toward the door.But before she had reached it a strong hand caught her and a greatvoice, deep and tender, commanded her: "Wait, lassie, sit down here ameenute." It was Macdonald Bhain. He stood a short space silent beforethe people, then, in a voice low, deep, and thrilling, he began: "Youhave been hearing the word of the Lord through the lips of his servant,and I am not saying but it is the true word; but I believe that the Lordwill be speaking by different voices, and although I hev not the gift,yet it is laid upon me to declare what is in my heart, and a sore heartit is, and sore hearts hev we all. But I will be thinking of a feryjoyful thing, and that is that 'He came to call, not the righteous, butsinners,' and that in His day many sinners came about Him and not onewould He turn away. And I will be remembering a fery great sinner whocried out in his dying hour, 'Lord, remember me,' and not in vain. AndI'm thinking that the Lord will be making it easy for men to be saved,and not hard, for He was that anxious about it that He gave up His ownlife. But it is not given me to argue, only to tell you what I knowabout the lad who is lying yonder silent. It will be three years sincehe will be coming on the shanties with me, and from the day that he lefthis mother's door, till he came back again, never once did he fail me inhis duty in the camp, or on the river, or in the town, where it was feryeasy to be forgetting. And the boys would be telling me of the timesthat he would be keeping them out of those places. And it is not soonthat Dannie Ross will be forgetting who it was that took him back fromthe camp when the disease was upon him and all were afraid to go nearhim, and for seex weeks, by day and by night, watched by him and was notthinking of himself at all. And sure am I that the lessons he would behearing from his mother and in the Bible class and in the church werenot lost on him whatever. For on the river, when the water was quietand I would be lying in the tent reading, it is often that Mack Cameronwould come in and listen to the Word. Aye, he was a good lad"--the greatvoice shook a little--"he would not be thinking of himself, and at thelast, it was for another man he gave his life."
Macdonald stood for a few moments silent, his face working while hestruggled with himself. And then all at once he grew calm, and throwingback his head, he looked through the door, and pointing into thedarkness, said: "And yonder is the lad, and with him a great company,and his face is smiling, and, oh! it is a good land, a good land!" Hisvoice dropped to a whisper, and he sank into his seat.
"God preserve us!" Kenny Crubach ejaculated; but old Donald Ross roseand said, "Let us call upon the name of the Lord." From his prayer itwas quite evident that for him at least all doubts and fears as to poorMack's state were removed. And even Peter McRae, subdued not so much byany argument of Macdonald Bhain's as by his rapt vision, followed oldDonald's prayer with broken words of hope and thanksgiving; and it wasPeter who was early at the manse next morning to repeat to the ministerthe things he had seen and heard the night before. And all next day,where there had been the horror of unnamable fear, hope and peaceprevailed.
The service was held under the trees, and while the mother and BellaPeter sat softly weeping, there was no bitterness in their tears, forthe sermon breathed of the immortal hope, and the hearts of all werecomforted. There was no parade of grief, but after the sermon was overthe people filed quietly through the room to take the last look, andthen the family, with Bella and her father, were left alone a fewmoments with their dead, while the Macdonald men kept guard at the doortill the time for "the lifting" would come.
After Long John passed out, followed by the family, Macdonald Bhainentered the room, closed the lid down upon the dead face, and gave thecommand to bear him forth.
So, with solemn dignity, as befitted them, they carried Big Mack fromhis home to Farquhar McNaughton's light wagon. Along the concessionroad, past the new church, through the swamp, and on to the oldchurchyard the long procession slowly moved. There was no unseemlyhaste, and by the time the last words were spoken, and the mounddecently rounde
d, the long shadows from the woods lay far across thefields. Quietly the people went their ways homeward, back to their lifeand work, but for many days they carried with them the memory of thosefuneral scenes. And Ranald, though he came back from Big Mack's gravetroubled with questions that refused to be answered, still carried withhim a heart healed of the pain that had torn it these last days. Hebelieved it was well with his friend, but about many things he wassorely perplexed, and it was this that brought him again to theminister's wife.