the story of a pioneer-第14节

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with　him；　though　I　did　not　like　his　appearance。　

He　was　a　huge；　muscular　person；　with　a　protruding

jaw　and　a　singularly　evasive　eye；　but　I　reflected

that　his　forbidding　expression　might　be　due；　in　part

at　least；　to　the　prospect　of　the　long　night　drive

through　the　woods；　to　which　possibly　he　objected

as　much　as　I　did。



It　was　already　growing　dark　when　we　started；

and　within　a　few　moments　we　were　out　of　the　little

settlement　and　entering　the　woods。　　With　me　I　had

a　revolver　I　had　long　since　learned　to　use；　but　which

I　very　rarely　carried。　　I　had　hesitated　to　bring　it

nowhad　even　left　home　without　it；　and　then；　im…

pelled　by　some　impulse　I　never　afterward　ceased

to　bless；　had　returned　for　it　and　dropped　it　into

my　hand…bag。



I　sat　on　the　back　seat　of　the　wagon；　directly

behind　the　driver；　and　for　a　time；　as　we　entered

the　darkening　woods；　his　great　shoulders　blotted　out

all　perspective　as　he　drove　on　in　stolid　silence。　

Then；　little　by　little；　they　disappeared　like　a　rapidly

fading　negative。　　The　woods　were　filled　with　Norway

pines；　hemlocks；　spruce；　and　tamaracks…great；

somber　trees　that　must　have　shut　out　the　light　even

on　the　brightest　days。　　To…night　the　heavens　held

no　lamps　aloft　to　guide　us；　and　soon　the　darkness

folded　around　us　like　a　garment。　　I　could　see　neither

the　driver　nor　his　horses。　　I　could　hear　only　the

sibilant　whisper　of　the　trees　and　the　creak　of　our

slow　wheels　in　the　rough　forest　road。



Suddenly　the　driver　began　to　talk；　and　at　first

I　was　glad　to　hear　the　reassuring　human　tones；　for

the　experience　had　begun　to　seem　like　a　bad　dream。　

I　replied　readily；　and　at　once　regretted　that　I　had

done　so；　for　the　man's　choice　of　topics　was　most

unpleasant。　　He　began　to　tell　me　stories　of　the

stockadesgrim　stories　with　horrible　details；　re…

peated　so　fully　and　with　such　gusto　that　I　soon

realized　he　was　deliberately　affronting　my　ears。　

I　checked　him　and　told　him　I　could　not　listen　to

such　talk。



He　replied　with　a　series　of　oaths　and　shocking

vulgarities；　stopping　his　horses　that　he　might　turn

and　fling　the　words　into　my　face。　　He　ended　by

snarling　that　I　must　think　him　a　fool　to　imagine

he　did　not　know　the　kind　of　woman　I　was。　　What

was　I　doing　in　that　rough　country；　he　demanded；

and　why　was　I　alone　with　him　in　those　black　woods

at　night？



Though　my　heart　missed　a　beat　just　then；　I　tried

to　answer　him　calmly。



‘‘You　know　perfectly　well　who　I　am；''　I　reminded

him。　　‘‘And　you　understand　that　I　am　making　this

journey　to…night　because　I　am　to　preach　to…morrow

morning　and　there　is　no　other　way　to　keep　my

appointment。''



He　uttered　a　laugh　which　was　a　most　unpleasant

sound。



‘‘Well；''　he　said；　coolly；　‘‘I'm　damned　if　I'll　take

you。　　I've　got　you　here；　and　I'm　going　to　keep　you

here！''



I　slipped　my　hand　into　the　satchel　in　my　lap；　and

it　touched　my　revolver。　　No　touch　of　human　fingers

ever　brought　such　comfort。　　With　a　deep　breath

of　thanksgiving　I　drew　it　out　and　cocked　it；　and

as　I　did　so　he　recognized　the　sudden　click。



‘‘Here！　　What　have　you　got　there？''　he　snapped。



‘‘I　have　a　revolver；''　I　replied；　as　steadily　as　I

could。　　‘‘And　it　is　cocked　and　aimed　straight　at

your　back。　　Now　drive　on。　　If　you　stop　again；　or

speak；　I'll　shoot　you。''



For　an　instant　or　two　he　blustered。



‘‘By　God；''　he　cried；　‘‘you　wouldn't　dare。''



‘‘Wouldn't　I？''　I　asked。　　‘‘Try　me　by　speaking

just　once　more。''



Even　as　I　spoke　I　felt　my　hair　rise　on　my　scalp

with　the　horror　of　the　moment；　which　seemed　worse

than　any　nightmare　a　woman　could　experience。　

But　the　man　was　conquered　by　the　knowledge　of

the　waiting；　willing　weapon　just　behind　him。　　He

laid　his　whip　savagely　on　the　backs　of　his　horses

and　they　responded　with　a　leap　that　almost　knocked

me　out　of　the　wagon。



The　rest　of　the　night　was　a　black　terror　I　shall

never　forget。　　He　did　not　speak　again；　nor　stop；

but　I　dared　not　relax　my　caution　for　an　instant。　

Hour　after　hour　crawled　toward　day；　and　still　I

sat　in　the　unpierced　darkness；　the　revolver　ready。　

I　knew　he　was　inwardly　raging；　and　that　at　any

instant　he　might　make　a　sudden　jump　and　try　to

get　the　revolver　away　from　me。　　I　decided　that

at　his　slightest　movement　I　must　shoot。　　But　dawn

came　at　last；　and　just　as　its　bluish　light　touched

the　dark　tips　of　the　pines　we　drove　up　to　the　log

hotel　in　the　settlement　that　was　our　destination。　

Here　my　driver　spoke。



‘‘Get　down；''　he　said；　gruffly。　　‘‘This　is　the　place。''



I　sat　still。　　Even　yet　I　dared　not　trust　him。　

Moreover；　I　was　so　stiff　after　my　vigil　that　I　was

not　sure　I　could　move。



‘‘You　get　down；''　I　directed；　‘‘and　wake　up　the

landlord。　　Bring　him　out　here。''



He　sullenly　obeyed　and　aroused　the　hotel…owner；

and　when　the　latter　appeared　I　climbed　out　of　the

wagon　with　some　effort　but　without　explanation。　

That　morning　I　preached　in　my　friend's　pulpit　as　I

had　promised　to　do；　and　the　rough　building　was

packed　to　its　doors　with　lumbermen　who　had　come

in　from　the　neighboring　camp。　　Their　appearance

caused　great　surprise；　as　they　had　never　attended

a　service　before。　　They　formed　a　most　picturesque

congregation；　for　they　all　wore　brilliant　lumber…camp

clothingblue　or　red　shirts　with　yellow　scarfs

twisted　around　their　waists；　and　gay…colored　jackets

and　logging…caps。　　There　were　forty　or　fifty　of

them；　and　when　we　took　up　our　collection　they

responded　with　much　liberality　and　cheerful　shouts

to　one　another。



‘‘Put　in　fifty　cents！''　they　yelled　across　the　church。　

‘‘Give　her　a　dollar！''



The　collection　was　the　largest　that　had　been　taken

up　in　the　history　of　the　settlement；　but　I　soon

learned　that　it　was　not　the　spiritual　comfort　I

offered　which　had　appealed　to　the　lumber…men。　

My　driver　of　the　night　before；　who　was　one　of　their

number；　had　told　his　pals　of　his　experience；　and　the

whole　camp　had　poured　into　town　to　see　the　woman

minister　who　carried　a　revolver。



‘‘Her　sermon？''　said　one　of　them　to　my　landlord；

after　the　meeting。　　‘‘Huh！　　I　dunno　what　she

preached。　　But；　say；　don't　make　no　mistake　about

one　thing：　the　little　preacher　has　sure　got　grit！''







IV



THE　WOLF　AT　THE　DOOR



When　I　returned　to　Albion　College　in　the

autumn　of　1875　I　brought　with　me　a　problem

which　tormented　me　during　my　waking　hours　and

chattered　on　my　pillow　at　night。　　Should　I　devote

two　more　years　of　my　vanishing　youth　to　the　com…

pletion　of　my　college　course；　or；　instead；　go　at　once

to　Boston　University；　enter　upon　my　theological

studies；　take　my　degree；　and　be　about　my　Father's

business？



I　was　now　twenty…seven　years　old；　and　I　had　been

a　licensed　preacher　for　three　years。　　My　reputation

in　the　Northwest　was　growing；　and　by　sermons　and

lectures　I　could　certainly　earn　enough　to　pay　the

expenses　of　the　full　college　course。　　On　the　other

hand；　Boston　was　a　new　world。　　There　I　would　be

alone　and　practically　penniless；　and　the　oppor…

tunities　for　work　might　be　limited。　　Quite　possibly

in　my　final　two　years　at　Albion　I　could　even　save

enough　money　to　make　the　experience　in　Boston

less　difficult；　and　the　clear　common　sense　I　had

inherited　from　my　mother　reminded　me　that　in

this　course　lay　wisdom。　　Possibly　it　was　some　in…

heritance　from　my　visionary　father　which　made

me；　at　the　end　of　three　months；　waive　these　sage

reflections；　pack　my　few　possessions；　and　start　for

Boston；　where　I　entered　the　theological　school　of

the　university　in　February；　1876。



It　was　an　instance　of　stepping　off　a　solid　plank

and　into　space；　and　though　there　is　exhilaration

in　the　sensation；　as　I　discovered　then　and　at　later

crises　in　life　when　I　did　the　same　thing；　there　was

also　an　amount　of　subsequent　discomfort　for　which

even　my　lively　imagination　had　not　prepared　me。　

I　went　through　some　grim　months　in　Boston

months　during　which　I　learned　what　it　was　to　go

to　bed　cold　and　hungry；　to　wake　up　cold　and　hungry；

and　to　have　no　knowledge　of　how　long　these　con…

ditions　might　continue。　　But　not　more　than　once　or

twice　during　the　struggle　there；　and　then　only　for

an　hour　or　two　in　the　physical　and　mental　depression

attending　malnutrition；　did　I　regret　coming。　　At

that　period　of　my　life　I　believed　that　the　Lord　had

my　small　personal　affairs　very　much　on　His　mind。　

If　I　starved　and　froze　it　was　His　test　of　my　worthi…

ness　for　the　ministry；　and　if　He　had　really　chosen

me　for　one　of　His　servants；　He　would　see　me　through。　

The　faith　that　sustained　me　then　has　still　a　place

in　my　life；　and　existence　without　it　would　be　an

infinitely　more　dreary　affair　than　it　is。　　But　I　admit

that　I　now　call　upon　the　Lord　less　often　and　less

imperatively　than　I　did　before　the　stern　years　taught

me　my　unimportance　in　the　great　scheme　of　things。



My　class　at　the　theological　school　was　composed

of　forty…two　young　men　and　my　unworthy　self；　and