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Black Rock

A TALE OF THE SELKIRKS

by Ralph Connor






INTRODUCTION


I think I have met 〃Ralph Conner。〃  Indeed; I am sure I haveonce
in a canoe on the Red River; once on the Assinaboine; and twice or
thrice on the prairies to the West。  That was not the name he gave
me; but; if I am right; it covers one of the most honest and genial
of the strong characters that are fighting the devil and doing good
work for men all over the world。  He has seen with his own eyes the
life which he describes in this book; and has himself; for some
years of hard and lonely toil; assisted in the good influences which
he traces among its wild and often hopeless conditions。  He writes
with the freshness and accuracy of an eye…witness; with the style
(as I think his readers will allow) of a real artist; and with the
tenderness and hopefulness of a man not only of faith but of
experience; who has seen in fulfillment the ideals for which he
lives。

The life to which he takes us; though far off and very strange to
our tame minds; is the life of our brothers。  Into the Northwest of
Canada the young men of Great Britain and Ireland have been pouring
(I was told); sometimes at the rate of 48;000 a year。  Our brothers
who left home yesterdayour hearts cannot but follow them。  With
these pages Ralph Conner enables our eyes and our minds to follow;
too; nor do I think there is any one who shall read this book and
not find also that his conscience is quickened。  There is a warfare
appointed unto man upon earth; and its struggles are nowhere more
intense; nor the victories of the strong; nor the succors brought
to the fallen; more heroic; than on the fields described in this
volume。

GEORGE ADAM SMITH。





BLACK ROCK


The story of the book is true; and chief of the failures in the
making of the book is this; that it is not all the truth。  The
light is not bright enough; the shadow is not black enough to give
a true picture of that bit of Western life of which the writer was
some small part。  The men of the book are still there in the mines
and lumber camps of the mountains; fighting out that eternal fight
for manhood; strong; clean; God…conquered。  And; when the west
winds blow; to the open ear the sounds of battle come; telling the
fortunes of the fight。

Because a man's life is all he has; and because the only hope of
the brave young West lies in its men; this story is told。  It may
be that the tragic pity of a broken life may move some to pray; and
that that divine power there is in a single brave heart to summon
forth hope and courage may move some to fight。  If so; the tale is
not told in vain。

C。W。G。



CONTENTS


CHAPTER I

CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP


CHAPTER II

THE BLACK ROCK CHRISTMAS


CHAPTER III

WATERLOO。  OUR FIGHTHIS VICTORY


CHAPTER IV

MRS。 MAVOR'S STORY


CHAPTER V

THE MAKING OF THE LEAGUE


CHAPTER VI

BLACK ROCK RELIGION


CHAPTER VII

THE FIRST BLACK ROCK COMMUNION


CHAPTER VIII

THE BREAKING OF THE LEAGUE


CHAPTER IX

THE LEAGUE'S REVENGE


CHAPTER X

WHAT CAME TO SLAVIN


CHAPTER XI

THE TWO CALLS


CHAPTER XII

LOVE IS NOT ALL


CHAPTER XIII

HOW NELSON CAME HOME


CHAPTER XIV

GRAEME'S NEW BIRTH


CHAPTER XV

COMING TO THEIR OWN




CHAPTER I


CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LUMBER CAMP


It was due to a mysterious dispensation of Providence; and a good
deal to Leslie Graeme; that I found myself in the heart of the
Selkirks for my Christmas Eve as the year 1882 was dying。  It had
been my plan to spend my Christmas far away in Toronto; with such
Bohemian and boon companions as could be found in that cosmopolitan
and kindly city。  But Leslie Graeme changed all that; for;
discovering me in the village of Black Rock; with my traps all
packed; waiting for the stage to start for the Landing; thirty
miles away; he bore down upon me with resistless force; and I found
myself recovering from my surprise only after we had gone in his
lumber sleigh some six miles on our way to his camp up in the
mountains。  I was surprised and much delighted; though I would not
allow him to think so; to find that his old…time power over me was
still there。  He could always in the old 'Varsity daysdear; wild
daysmake me do what he liked。  He was so handsome and so
reckless; brilliant in his class…work; and the prince of half…backs
on the Rugby field; and with such power of fascination; as would
'extract the heart out of a wheelbarrow;' as Barney Lundy used to
say。  And thus it was that I found myself just three weeks laterI
was to have spent two or three days;on the afternoon of the 24th
of December; standing in Graeme's Lumber Camp No。 2; wondering at
myself。  But I did not regret my changed plans; for in those three
weeks I had raided a cinnamon bear's den and had wakened up a
grizzly  But I shall let the grizzly finish the tale; he probably
sees more humour in it than I。

The camp stood in a little clearing; and consisted of a group of
three long; low shanties with smaller shacks near them; all built
of heavy; unhewn logs; with door and window in each。  The grub
camp; with cook…shed attached; stood in the middle of the clearing;
at a little distance was the sleeping…camp with the office built
against it; and about a hundred yards away on the other side of the
clearing stood the stables; and near them the smiddy。  The
mountains rose grandly on every side; throwing up their great peaks
into the sky。  The clearing in which the camp stood was hewn out of
a dense pine forest that filled the valley and climbed half way up
the mountain…sides; and then frayed out in scattered and stunted
trees。

It was one of those wonderful Canadian winter days; bright; and
with a touch of sharpness in the air that did not chill; but warmed
the blood like draughts of wine。  The men were up in the woods; and
the shrill scream of the blue jay flashing across the open; the
impudent chatter of the red squirrel from the top of the grub camp;
and the pert chirp of the whisky…jack; hopping about on the
rubbish…heap; with the long; lone cry of the wolf far down the
valley; only made the silence felt the more。

As I stood drinking in with all my soul the glorious beauty and the
silence of mountain and forest; with the Christmas feeling stealing
into me; Graeme came out from his office; and; catching sight of
me; called out; 'Glorious Christmas weather; old chap!'  And then;
coming nearer; 'Must you go to…morrow?'

'I fear so;' I replied; knowing well that the Christmas feeling was
on him too。

'I wish I were going with you;' he said quietly。

I turned eagerly to persuade him; but at the look of suffering in
his face the words died at my lips; for we both were thinking of
the awful night of horror when all his bright; brilliant life
crashed down about him in black ruin and shame。  I could only throw
my arm over his shoulder and stand silent beside him。  A sudden
jingle of bells roused him; and; giving himself a little shake; he
exclaimed; 'There are the boys coming home。'

Soon the camp was filled with men talking; laughing; chaffing; like
light…hearted boys。

'They are a little wild to…night;' said Graeme; 'and to morrow
they'll paint Black Rock red。'

Before many minutes had gone; the last teamster was 'washed up;'
and all were standing about waiting impatiently for the cook's
signalthe supper to…night was to be 'something of a feed'when
the sound of bells drew their attention to a light sleigh drawn by
a buckskin broncho coming down the hillside at a great pace。

'The preacher; I'll bet; by his driving;' said one of the men。

'Bedad; and it's him has the foine nose for turkey!' said Blaney; a
good…natured; jovial Irishman。

'Yes; or for pay…day; more like;' said Keefe; a black…browed;
villainous fellow…countryman of Blaney's; and; strange to say; his
great friend。

Big Sandy M'Naughton; a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry; rose up
in wrath。  'Bill Keefe;' said he; with deliberate emphasis; 'you'll
just keep your dirty tongue off the minister; and as for your pay;
it's little he sees of it; or any one else; except Mike Slavin;
when you're too dry to wait for some one to treat you; or perhaps
Father Ryan; when the fear of hell…fire is on to you。'

The men stood amazed at Sandy's sudden anger and length of speech。

'Bon; dat's good for you; my bully boy;' said Baptiste; a wiry
little French…Canadian; Sandy's sworn ally and devoted admirer ever
since the day when the big Scotsman; under great provocation; had
knocked him clean off the dump into the river and then jumped in
for him。

It was not till afterwards I learned the cause of Sandy's sudden
wrath which urged him to such unwonted length of speech。  It was
not simply that the Presbyterian blood carried with it reverence
for the minister and contempt for Papists and Fenians; but that he
had a vivid remembrance of how; only a month ago; the minister had
got him out of Mike Slavin's saloon and out the clutches of Keefe
and Slavin and their gang of bloodsuckers。

Keefe started up with a curse。  Baptiste sprang to Sandy's side;
slapped him on the back; and called out; 'You keel hi

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