II
Hay Stockard swore, harshly, in the rugged monosyllables of his
mother tongue. His wife lifted her gaze from the pots and pans,
and followed his in a keen scrutiny of the river. She was a woman
of the Teslin Country, wise in the ways of her husband's
vernacular when it grew intensive. From the slipping of a snow-
shoe thong to the forefront of sudden death, she could gauge
occasion by the pitch and volume of his blasphemy. So she knew
the present occasion merited attention. A long canoe, with
paddles flashing back the rays of the westering sun, was crossing
the current from above and urging in for the eddy. Hay Stockard
watched it intently. Three men rose and dipped, rose and dipped,
in rhythmical precision; but a red bandanna, wrapped about the
head of one, caught and held his eye.
"Bill!" he called. "Oh, Bill!"
A shambling, loose-jointed giant rolled out of one of the tents,
yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Then he sighted the
strange canoe and was wide awake on the instant.
"By the jumping Methuselah! That damned sky-pilot!"
Hay Stockard nodded his head bitterly, half-reached for his rifle,
then shrugged his shoulders.
"Pot-shot him," Bill suggested, "and settle the thing out of hand.
He'll spoil us sure if we don't." But the other declined this
drastic measure and turned away, at the same time bidding the
woman return to her work, and calling Bill back from the bank.
The two Indians in the canoe moored it on the edge of the eddy,
while its white occupant, conspicuous by his gorgeous head-gear,
came up the bank.
"Like Paul of Tarsus, I give you greeting. Peace be unto you and
grace before the Lord."
His advances were met sullenly, and without speech.
"To you, Hay Stockard, blasphemer and Philistine, greeting. In
your heart is the lust of Mammon, in your mind cunning devils, in
your tent this woman whom you live with in adultery; yet of these
divers sins, even here in the wilderness, I, Sturges Owen, apostle
to the Lord, bid you to repent and cast from you your iniquities."
"Save your cant! Save your cant!" Hay Stockard broke in testily.
"You'll need all you've got, and more, for Red Baptiste over
yonder."
He waved his hand toward the Indian camp, where the half-breed was
looking steadily across, striving to make out the newcomers.
Sturges Owen, disseminator of light and apostle to the Lord,
stepped to the edge of the steep and commanded his men to bring up
the camp outfit. Stockard followed him.
"Look here," he demanded, plucking the missionary by the shoulder
and twirling him about. "Do you value your hide?"
"My life is in the Lord's keeping, and I do but work in His
vineyard," he replied solemnly.
"Oh, stow that! Are you looking for a job of martyrship?"
"If He so wills."
"Well, you'll find it right here, but I'm going to give you some
advice first. Take it or leave it. If you stop here, you'll be
cut off in the midst of your labors. And not you alone, but your
men, Bill, my wife--"
"Who is a daughter of Belial and hearkeneth not to the true
Gospel."
"And myself. Not only do you bring trouble upon yourself, but
upon us. I was frozen in with you last winter, as you will well
recollect, and I know you for a good man and a fool. If you think
it your duty to strive with the heathen, well and good; but, do
exercise some wit in the way you go about it. This man, Red
Baptiste, is no Indian. He comes of our common stock, is as bull-
necked as I ever dared be, and as wild a fanatic the one way as
you are the other. When you two come together, hell'll be to pay,
and I don't care to be mixed up in it. Understand? So take my
advice and go away. If you go down-stream, you'll fall in with
the Russians. There's bound to be Greek priests among them, and
they'll see you safe through to Bering Sea,--that's where the
Yukon empties,--and from there it won't be hard to get back to
civilization. Take my word for it and get out of here as fast as
God'll let you."
"He who carries the Lord in his heart and the Gospel in his hand
hath no fear of the machinations of man or devil," the missionary
answered stoutly. "I will see this man and wrestle with him. One
backslider returned to the fold is a greater victory than a
thousand heathen. He who is strong for evil can be as mighty for
good, witness Saul when he journeyed up to Damascus to bring
Christian captives to Jerusalem. And the voice of the Saviour
came to him, crying, 'Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?' And
therewith Paul arrayed himself on the side of the Lord, and
thereafter was most mighty in the saving of souls. And even as
thou, Paul of Tarsus, even so do I work in the vineyard of the
Lord, bearing trials and tribulations, scoffs and sneers, stripes
and punishments, for His dear sake."
"Bring up the little bag with the tea and a kettle of water," he
called the next instant to his boatmen; "not forgetting the haunch
of cariboo and the mixing-pan."
When his men, converts by his own hand, had gained the bank, the
trio fell to their knees, hands and backs burdened with camp
equipage, and offered up thanks for their passage through the
wilderness and their safe arrival. Hay Stockard looked upon the
function with sneering disapproval, the romance and solemnity of
it lost to his matter-of-fact soul. Baptiste the Red, still
gazing across, recognized the familiar postures, and remembered
the girl who had shared his star-roofed couch in the hills and
forests, and the woman-child who lay somewhere by bleak Hudson's
Bay.
