CHAPTER VI
A SOUL'S AWAKENING
The next evening, as the Claytons gathered about the fire, heavyfootsteps were heard on the veranda.
"The cowboys are just in from the range," explained the host.
The door opened, and four cowboys entered. Abashed at the presence ofa stranger, they responded awkwardly to the introduction. They were apicturesque group in the flickering firelight. All were dressed incorduroy jackets, belted with heavy leather belts, each of which helda gun and a sharp knife. Each man wore leather trousers, fringed atthe bottom, high boots, with clanking spurs, and sombrero hats that noone deigned to remove on entering the room. They were brawny specimensof human kind, with faces copper-colored from exposure.
The Claytons welcomed them to a place before the fire. Many a curiousglance wandered toward Esther. She listened intently to their tales ofhair-breadth escapes, of breaking bronchos, of stampedes of cattle, ofbrandings and round-ups, of encounters with Indians and wolves, and ofperilous feats of mountain climbing. Noticing her interest, theirtongues were loosened, and many a half-truth took on the color ofwhole truth.
One of the cowboys had been so absorbed in watching her that he hadtaken no part in the conversation. His steady, persistent gaze finallyattracted her attention. She was perplexed as to where she could haveseen him. His face looked strangely familiar to her. Then it came toher in a flash that it was at the schoolhouse the day of theorganization of the Bible school. He was one of the men who hadprotected her. She saw he could not be measured at a glance.
His face, though strikingly handsome, was one men feared. Yet therewere those who could tell of his deeds of gentleness and mercy. Thesewere in his better moments, for he had better moments.
Many tales were told of his courage and daring. Mr. Clayton sometimesexpressed the belief that if this cowboy had been reared in the rightkind of atmosphere, he would have achieved distinction. His eagle eyeand powerful jaw indicated a forceful personality.
As Esther felt his magnetic gaze, she turned and asked:
"Were you not at the schoolhouse the day we organized the Bibleschool?"
"I was there a few minutes," he responded. But he did not add that hehad gone away with the ruffians to prevent their disturbing her.
She expressed the wish that he would visit the Bible school.
"Oh, I haven't been in a church since I was a kid," he blurted out."Then my stepfather turned me out ter earn my livin'. I'm nowtwenty-eight, an' I don't know nothin' but cattle, an' bears, an'wolves an' Indians."
"It is sad not to have a home, isn't it?" she said.
"Oh, I don't know 'bout it's bein' sad," he answered, as thoughembarrassed. There was a change of expression in his face.
"But then your being thrown upon your own resources has made youbrave, and self-reliant, and strong."
He squared his shoulders.
"In some ways, you have had great opportunities, Mr. Harding,--"
"Oh, don't call me 'Mr. Harding,'" he interrupted, "Call me 'Jack.'"
"I'll try to remember." Her face lighted. "These opportunities havegiven you magnificent physical strength. I know people who would givea fortune just to have your superb strength."
He straightened up.
"Well, I'd be glad to give it to 'em, if I could only have a chance toknow somethin'."
"Know what?"
"Know how a man ought ter live." There was in his voice a deep,vibrant undertone of earnestness.
"It's a great thing to live, isn't it?" She spoke as though ponderingsome vital question. Jack Harding watched her curiously.
"Some jest half live, schoolma'am."
"That is probably true," she responded, "but God created us capable ofsomething better. He has given us His world to know, and the people init."
"The people in it," he repeated contemptuously. "Some people are a badlot, schoolma'am, an' I'm one of 'em."
"You must not speak so of yourself. A man who will protect a woman, inorder that she may continue her work unmolested, is not a bad lot. NowI should call you a pretty _good_ sort of a man." A luminous smile.Almost any man would have become her willing slave for that smile.
As her voice gave special emphasis to the word "good," he squared hisshoulders again. She continued:
"A man doesn't know how good he really is until he begins to try tohelp some one else up. Then he finds out."
"I need to be helped," he said, in a tone that seemed to be intendedfor her ear alone. "I am ignorant,--don't know nothin'. Can't hardlyread, or write, or cipher. Could yer learn me?"
She looked at the strong man before her, touched by his appeal.
"What do you wish to learn?"
"First readin' an' writin' an' cipherin'."
"What next?"
"Oh, everythin', I guess."
The others had caught fragments of the conversation, and now joinedin. Mike Maloney spoke first.
"Do yez think yez are a kid again, Jack, that yez are sthartin' widbook learnin'?"
"No, Mike, not a kid, but a dunce."
Before the teacher could protest, he continued:
"Ye'll find me an ignoramus, schoolma'am. A fellow out on the range, orin a minin' camp, don't git much schoolin'. But sometimes when ye'realone under the open sky, an' the stars come out, there's somethin' inhere" (striking himself on the chest) "that is--is--unsatisfied. I wantsomethin'. I don't know what it is I want, but I believe you can helpme find out."
Let those scoff who will; there is such a thing as divine unrest; andwhen this takes possession of a man, his evolution has begun.
John Harding went on with increasing earnestness.
"Yer see, schoolma'am, this not knowin' is awful. Y're not all a manshould measure up to. Y're in prison like, hide bound. It's come terme ter-night, all ter onct, that an ignoramus is in bondage, an' thatonly education can set him free."
The tide of his feeling gave him a rough eloquence. It was evident hiswords found a responsive echo in the other cowboys' hearts.
The teacher had listened with deepening interest. John Harding had sether a task,--the greatest task, nay, the greatest pleasure man orwoman can know, of leading a human soul out of bondage into freedom.
One of the cowboys, Jimmie Smith by name, nudged Mike Maloney, andwhispered:
"Ask her to learn us, too."
Mike readily assented.
"Would yez be willin' ter bother wid us too?"
"It would be no bother. I'd be glad to help you."
There was no doubting her sincerity.
In a few moments, the men were seated around the dining table, eachwith pencil and paper, and a lesson in penmanship had begun.
"Gosh!" said Jimmie. "Ef that don't look like the rail fences back inIndianny!"
As he said this, he held up to view the very best he could do afterrepeated efforts. He laughed uproariously at himself, the othersjoining from pure sympathy, for Jimmie's laugh was contagious.
But Mike worked as though entered for a race. He seemed to need anastonishing amount of the teacher's attention, especially after shecommended his work.
"Schoolma'am," he called out, beckoning to her with his dirty hand,"would yez be showin' me the nixt?"
She bent over him, naming principles, explaining slant and spacing, asshe made a group of letters.
"Stim letthers, did yez say? Stim? Stim?"
He held up his work and looked at it critically. "Manin' no disrespictto yez, schoolma'am, I'll jist call 'em, not stim letthers, but finceposts."
After the laughs and gibes had ceased, he listened to her a moment,and then remarked, "The stims should all be sthandin' the same way,did yez say?"
He grinned as he viewed his writing o'er. It was clear to him, even atthat early stage of the work, that he was not cut out for an expertpenman. Yet his last effort that evening he seemed to regard withspecial pride and satisfaction, and this is what the teacher found onhis paper when she returned to observe his work:
klass
jimme Smith mike maloney john harding bill weeks teecher the angle of the gila
Night after night, these cowboys gathered for an hour or more at theClayton home for study with Esther Bright. Reading, and arithmetic,and talks on physical geography followed. The cowboys did not suspectit, but she was fighting the degrading influences of the saloon.
Days came and went. The interest in the night school increased; so didthe interest in the Bible school. But for some indefinable reason,John Harding had not visited it.
One Saturday morning, when Esther sought the schoolhouse to do somework there, he joined her, entered the building, and built a fire forher. While observing the decorations of the room, he saw on the wallsthe words, "God so loved the world, that he gave his only begottenSon, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but haveeverlasting life."
He read and reread the words. What could it mean? He was ashamed toask. At last his great dark eyes sought the teacher's face. She saw aquestion in them.
"What is it?" she asked.
"What does it mean?"
"What does what mean?"
"Them words,--'God so loved the world', an' so on."
"What don't you understand?"
"I don't understand none of it. Yer see, us fellers uses 'God' as acuss-word. That's all I know 'bout God."
"Have you never read in the Bible about Jesus?"
"Bible? I ain't seen one sence I was a kid, 'n' I never read it then,'n' ef God is a father 'n' anythin' like my stepfather, I reckon Idon't care ter make his acquaintance."
"He is not like your stepfather, for Jesus never turns anyone away. Heinvites people to come to Him. Would you like to hear about this,John?"
"Yes, mum."
"Well, sit down and I'll tell you."
So they sat down near the desk. Then the woman of twenty-four told theChrist-story to the man of twenty-eight as to a little child. Helistened intently, with the eagerness of a man in whom the passion toknow has just been born. The teacher's words thrilled her listener.She pictured Jesus a child. Jesus a young man in Nazareth, workingamong his fellows, tempted, victorious; Jesus healing the sick andafflicted, mingling with sinful men, and freeing them from theirbondage to sin. The expression of the man's face was indescribable. Asshe reached the story of the Crucifixion, he asked huskily:
"Why did God let the Jews kill him?"
"Many have asked that question. All we know about it is what the Bibletells us. I used to wonder if there could not have been some other wayof salvation than through the suffering and death of Jesus."
Her look was far away, as of one thinking of things eternal. Again sheread aloud:
"And while they abode in Galilee, Jesus said unto them, 'The Son ofMan shall be betrayed into the hands of men, and they shall kill him,and the third day he shall be raised again.' And they were exceedingsorry."
"He knew it, then, that they would kill him?"
"It seems so." She read on:
"He taught his disciples and said unto them, 'The Son of Man isdelivered into the hands of men, and they shall kill him; and afterthat he is killed, he shall rise the third day.'"
She turned the leaves and read again: "'As Moses lifted up the serpentin the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up: thatwhosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have eternal life.For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, thatwhosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlastinglife. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world,but that the world through Him might be saved.'"
"He died for us?"
She nodded, and continued: "'I tell you the truth; it is expedient foryou that I go away: for if I go not away the Comforter will not comeunto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you.'"
"The Comforter!"
"Listen, John. 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man laydown his life for his friends.'"
Then she closed the book.
"Greater love hath no man than this," he repeated. She took up thewords, "'that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
"He--gave--his--life--for--us!"
John Harding spoke slowly. The great truth that has comforted thehuman heart for ages had at last reached his dormant soul. The eagleeye seemed looking inward; the iron jaw set; the strong hand clinched.In this deep inward look, the man seemed to have forgotten thepresence of the teacher. At last into the hard face flashed acomprehending light, and he spoke.
"I would give my life for you."
"I believe you would," she said, never doubting. "Just so Jesus gavehis life for all mankind."
He looked up.
"I begin to understand."
"He taught men how to live," explained the teacher. "He taught thatgreat and worthy love means sacrifice, and that all who would trulylove and serve their fellow men must cease to think about self, andmust get about doing kind, helpful things for other people."
"I have never known the meaning of love or sacrifice," he said. "Idon't know no more about them things than I do about God. But tell meabout Jesus. What happened after they had crucified him?"
He listened with intense interest as she told the story.
"I want ter know more," he said. "I never knowed sech things was inthe Bible. Ef I'd knowed it when I was a kid, I'd a lived a differ'ntlife. I s'pose it's too late now."
"No; not too late." Her voice was low and gentle.
"I don't know how ter begin," he said helplessly. "Tell me how."
"One way is to feel deeply sorry for anything wrong in one's past; torepent of wrong thoughts, wrong words, wrong deeds."
"But, schoolma'am, my wrong deeds has been so many," and he bowed hishead on his arms on the desk before him.
"Not so many--" her voice was comforting--"but God will forgive them,if you are truly sorry. Pray every day, pray many times a day, thatGod will not only forgive you, but help you become a better man."
He raised his head.
"I don't know how ter pray. I'm afraid ter pray. Do you know," he saiddesperately, "I've committed about every crime but murder?"
Again he bowed his head on his arms. His frame shook with sobs. Thecalm, well-poised girl had never before seen such a stirring of thedeeps. A strong man in tears is not an easy thing to witness.
"Will yer pray fur me?" he said at length; but he did not lift hishead.
Then upon his ears fell the comforting voice of the teacher. It wasthe first time in all his life anyone had prayed for him. Somethingchoked him. At last he looked up into her eyes.
"Learn me ter pray," he said huskily.
"Say this, John, _now_: 'Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me.'"
He repeated, "'Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me!'"
It was the first prayer John Harding had ever prayed. He rose to go.
"I wisht--." He hesitated.
"What do you wish?"
She reached out a delicate, expressive hand, and laid it gently on hisbrawny arm. It came to him, at that hour, like a benediction from God.
"_What_ do you wish?" she repeated.
"I wisht you'd give me a Bible."
She lifted the Bible from her desk, one long used by her and carefullymarked, and placing it in his open hand, she said:
"Never forget, John, that Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, hasbought your soul with a great price, and that it belongs to God."
He tried to thank her. Then turning, without a vocal word of thanks,he left the room; and with long, easy, rapid strides, sought thesolitude of the mountains.
The something within him that had long been beating to be free, nowasserted itself. It _would_ have way. It seemed to be his real self,and yet a new man, risen up out of his dead and fruitless past. Itseemed to sing within him, yet it sorrowed. And in the midst of thesorrow, a great hope was born. He knew it now,--this Something was hisown Soul!
There, on the heights of the rugged foothills, he stood alone. Onlythe fathomless deeps of the sky saw the struggle of t
hat human soul.For a while he seemed to be passing through the tortures of thedamned. He fought his way inch by inch. Great beads of sweat coveredhis forehead; then, lifting one clenched hand high in the air, asthough he had burst forth from a dungeon of death into the light ofday, he said:
"God! God!"