VI
THE CAMP-MEETING
As they turned and were riding on toward the camp-meeting, the doctorspoke of the priest and his horse. The boy listened with the wonderingawe that most of us feel, when some stranger points out the heroism of asimple soul or an everyday deed which we have known, unknowingly, allour lives.
"Father Orin and Toby are a pair to take your hat off to," the youngdoctor said. "I have come to know them fairly well by this time,although I have not been here very long. It isn't necessary for any oneto be long in the neighborhood before finding out what those two aredoing. And then my own work among the suffering gives me manyopportunities to know what they are doing and trying to do. The churchside is only one side of their good work. I am not a Catholic, andconsequently see little of that side; but I meet them everywhereconstantly caring for the poor and the afflicted without any regard forcreed. And they never have any money, worth speaking of, to help with.They have only their time and their strength and their whole laborious,self-sacrificing lives to give. The expedients that they resort to in apinch would make anybody laugh--to keep from crying. They were out theother day with a brand-new plan. They travelled about fifty milesthrough the wilderness trying to find a purchaser for the new overcoatthat a Methodist friend gives Father Orin every fall. He, of course, hadgiven his old coat to some shivering wretch last spring while it wasstill cold, but that didn't make the slightest difference. He didn'teven remember the fact till I reminded him of it. It is only Octobernow--so that he can do without the overcoat--and a poor fellow who hascome with his wife and baby to live in that deserted cabin near thecourt-house, is in sore need of a horse for his fall ploughing. FatherOrin had suggested Toby's drawing the plough, thinking that some of hisown work might be attended to on foot. But Toby, it seems, drew the lineat that. It was a treat to hear Father Orin laugh when he told how Tobymade it plain that he thought there were more important duties for himto perform, how firmly he refused to drag the plough. He was quitewilling, however, to do his best to sell the overcoat, so that theymight have money to hire a horse for the ploughing."
The doctor broke off suddenly. The roar coming from the darkness aroundthe swamp rose high on the gusty wind. He and David were now ridingfast, and the roaring grew rapidly more continuous and distinct. Thevast volume of inarticulate sound presently began to break into manyhuman voices. At last a single voice pierced all the rest. Its shrillcry of spiritual anguish filled the dark forest with the wailing of asoul in extremity.
"And it's a woman, too!" cried the doctor.
He spoke shortly, almost angrily, but something in his tone told Davidthat he also was shivering, although the night was warm, and that hisheart was full of pity. They were now drawing near the camp-meeting, butthey could not see it, nor even the light from it. They had reenteredthe forest, which was here made darker and wilder by many fallen trees,blown down and tossed together by the fierce tempests which often rentthe swamp. The torn roots, the decaying trunks, and the shatteredbranches of the dead giants of the ancient wood, were dank withwater-moss. Rank poison vines writhed everywhere, and crept like vipersbeyond the deadly borders of the great Cypress Swamp. Through such darkand tangled density as this the smoky torches, burning dimly around thecamp, could cast their light but a little way. And thus it was byhearing and not by seeing, that they came at last upon the spot almostby accident. They had scarcely got hurriedly down from their horses, andhastily tied them to a swinging bough when the scene burst upon them--awild vision revealed by the dim flickering torchlight.
"A dark, confused ... writhing mass of humanity."]
There was a long, low shed of vast extent. It was covered with roughboards, and upheld by tree-trunks which still bore the bark. There wasno floor other than the bare earth, and there were no seats other thanunhewn logs. Here, under the deep shadows of this great shed, all darklyshut in by the black wilderness and dimly lit by a wide circle ofsmoking, flaring torches, there surged a dark, confused, convulsed,roaring, writhing mass of humanity. And there were many hundreds in thatshadowy multitude--swaying, struggling, groaning, laughing, weeping,shouting, praying, dancing, leaping, and falling.
"It does not seem possible that there can be so many in all thewilderness," said the doctor. "But they come from long distances, fromas far as fifty and sixty miles around. And they have been coming forweeks--day and night--just like this."
He spoke sadly, and with deep feeling. He laid his firm, gentle hand onDavid's shaking arm, knowing how the awful spectacle must affect thesensitive boy. David instinctively drew nearer to his side feeling thesupport of his calm, sane, strong presence, and began gradually to seewith clearer eyes, so that this awful vision became by degrees a moreawful reality.
"Listen!" cried the doctor. "They are beginning to sing!"
Ah, listen indeed! For a stranger, wilder chant than this which nowwent swelling up from that frenzied, swaying mass of humanity surelynever stirred all that is most mystical in the soul of man! Pealinggrandly, awfully upward through the star-lit spaces of a grander templethan ever was reared by human hands, it rolled heavenward, on and on,and higher and higher, to the very dome of the firmament.
With the wild chanting, the madness of the multitude increased. Many menand women--ay, and little children, too--all dropped to their knees,heedless of being trodden underfoot by the unfallen frenzied, and thuscrept the length of the earthen floor to the foot of the rude altar.Here, before the pulpit of rough-hewn logs, great heaps of straw werestrewn thick and broadcast. On these straw heaps men and women fellprostrate side by side, and lay as if they were dead. Others, both menand women, were suddenly seized with the unnatural, convulsive jerkingwhich gave this mysterious visitation its best-known name. Under thisdreadful tremor the long hair of delicate ladies poured unnoticed overthe most modest shoulders and flew back and forth with the sound of awhip; for those so wildly wrought upon were not solely of the humble andthe ignorant. The highest and the most refined of the whole country werethere. The earth was strewn with costly raiment. Gentlemen rent the fineruffles from their wrists and their bosoms; gentlewomen cast theirrichest ornaments to the winds. And all the while that this awful,majestic, soul-stirring chant was thus mounting higher and growingwilder, many were whirling and dancing.
David shrunk back, and the doctor drew him closer to his side, as a mansuddenly burst out of the swirling mass of maddened humanity, and dashedpast them into the forest. There, still within the wide circle offlaring, smoking, torchlight, the poor creature threw his arms around atree, and uttering strange, savage cries like the barking of a dog, hedashed his head against the tree-trunk till the blood gushed out andpoured down his ghastly face. David clung closer to the doctor's arm andturned his eyes away, feeling sick and faint with horror.
"Don't look at him. Turn your head. I must go to him and help him if Ican," the doctor said, gently loosing the boy's grasp. "I shouldn't havebrought you here. But--Good God! Who is that?" he cried sharply. "Look!Quick! Do you know that girl? Over there by the last pillar--yonder,yonder, with her face turned this way!"
In his eagerness he seized the boy, fairly lifting him from the ground,and held him up so that he could see over all the heads of the surging,swirling crowd. The girl was still there, and David recognized Ruth. Shewas standing not far off and near the edge of the shed. Close behind herthe torches threw out gloomy banners of smoke and vivid streamers offlame, and against them she appeared a quiet, white spirit among manytossed dark shades. When David first saw her, he thought she was lookingat him. But in another moment her beautiful face, which had been paleenough before, turned as white as her frock and her large eyes widenedwith terror. And then David knew that she was looking beyond him and hadseen the horror by the tree. He forgot his own horrified faintness, heforgot where he was, the doctor--everything but Ruth and that look inher dear face. He sprang toward her with a piercing cry and outstretchedarms.
"Ruth!" he cried. "Here I am, Ruth, dear. I am coming to you. I'll takeyou away!"
It was a single voice raised against the deafening roar of a hurricane.Only the doctor heard or heeded, and he laid a restraining hand onDavid's shoulder.
"You are right," he said. "Take her away as soon as you can. She shouldnot have come. Is she your sister? Come this way. We will go round," hewent on, without waiting for an answer. "We may be able to reach herfrom the other side of the shed."
The firm touch and calm tone partly brought the boy to himself, and hefollowed as closely as he could, but only to be beaten back again andagain. That terrific chant was now at its highest and wildest, and heand the doctor were caught in the human maelstrom and swirled hitherand thither like straws. They were swept far apart, and when they werequickly driven together again, they had lost sight of Ruth. They weretossed once more, and thrown outside the fiercest swirl. Standing still,they held to a tree, gasping, and searched the crowd with their gaze,trying to find her. She was nowhere to be seen. But while they thuspaused, waiting for breath to go on, they saw a tall man near by,leaning against a pillar and quietly overlooking the wild scene. Hestood within the circle of torchlight, and they could see himdistinctly. Neither the doctor nor David had ever seen him before andneither ever saw him again, but they never forgot just how he lookedthat night.
He was a very tall man of more than six feet in height. He was veryerect and very slender, with the slenderness that gives a look of youthas well as grace. There was no tinge of gray in his tawny hair, whichfell heavily back from his high, narrow forehead, without any of thestiffness seen in his later portraits. He was not more than thirty-fiveyears of age at this time, but his face was already lined with care andtrouble and exposure. It was naturally pale and thin, almost haggard.Its sole redeeming feature was the wonderful brilliance of his blueeyes. The doctor and David could not see the color of his eyes, and yethe seemed to them a singularly handsome man, as he did to almost everyone. There was something about him that may be called a presence, forlack of a better term, something which drew the gaze of the crowd andheld it everywhere. Many eyes were upon him that night in the veryheight and centre of all the frenzy. Glances were cast at him even fromthe pulpit, which was not far away. One of the ministering preachersgave him a look of recognition, and then, bending down, whispered in theear of another preacher, a very young man who stood below the pulpitamong the fallen, exhorting them to repentance. The exhorter shook offthe whisperer and went on with his impassioned plea. He, too, was wellworth looking at, and better worth listening to--this inspired youngbackwoodsman, Peter Cartwright. His swarthy face was pale with thepallor of fanaticism, and his dark eyes were aflame with some mysticfire. His long black hair was wildly blown by the wind which bore hisbroken words still more brokenly:--
"Such a time as this has not been seen since the day of Pentecost.... Asacred flame is surely sweeping sin from the earth.... Come all ye. Takeup your cross and follow Him.... Heaven's gate stands wide to-night....Praise the Lord!... Come in.... Come at once.... Do not delay--or thegate may close, never to open again. Come! Come with me to the mercyseat. I was once like you. My soul, like yours, was rent in agony. Iwept, I strove, I prayed, I was in utter despair ... just as you arenow.... Sometimes it seemed as if I could almost lay hold on theSaviour.... Then--all of a sudden--such a fear of the devil fell upon methat he appeared to stand right by my side ready to drag me down tohell. But I prayed on, and said, 'Lord if there be mercy for me, let mefind it!' ... At last, in the midst of this awful struggle of soul, Icame to the foot of the altar--here--where I am begging you to come....And then it was as if a voice out of heaven said to me, 'Thy sins areforgiven thee.' ... Glory! Glory! Delight flashed all around me. Joyunspeakable sprung up in my soul. It seemed to me that I was already inparadise. The very trees, the very leaves on the trees, seemed to besinging together and praising God.... Will you share this divine peacewith me? Will you come with me this night to the foot of the cross?...Then come now--now--for this may be the accepted hour of yoursalvation.... Come.... If you wait, you are lost ... lost!"
But these simple, broken words are only the cold and lifeless echo ofPeter Cartwright's fiery, living eloquence. Nothing can ever bring thatback as it really was. None may hope to tell those who never heard himwhat it was like. No one, perhaps among the numberless thousands who didhear him, ever knew what the power was, by which this unletteredbackwoodsman swayed multitudes at his will. Perhaps David afterwarddescribed it as nearly as any one could, when he said that the meresound of Peter Cartwright's voice that night--when he could not hear thewords--made him feel so sorry, so grieved, so ashamed, that he wanted tofall down on the earth and hide his face and weep like a woman, for hisown sins and the sins of the whole world.
"There she is!" cried the doctor. "We can reach her now."
But another roaring wave of humanity dashed over them, sweeping themfarther from Ruth and nearer the pulpit. They were so near that theycould see the fire that flashed over the pale darkness of the youngpreacher's face as his brother preacher bent down for the second timeand touched him warningly, and whispered again. Peter Cartwright, whowas still bending over the men and women lying at his feet, suddenlystood erect. He threw back his long black hair, and flung a flamingglance at the tall man leaning against the pillar. And then his voicerang out like a trumpet calling to combat.
"What if it _is_ General Jackson?" he cried. "What is Andrew Jackson buta sinner, too? Let him come with the rest of these poor sinners to begfor pardon before the throne of grace. And let him make haste--or a justand offended God will punish him as if he were the lowest of earth!"
The challenge sounded clear and far. It must have reached the ears ofAndrew Jackson, the proud and feared hero of many battles. No man livingwas more intolerant of indignity or quicker to resent the slightestaffront. An alarmed murmur circled through all the tumult; the doctorand David heard it distinctly, and turned with those about them to lookat the man thus challenged. But Andrew Jackson himself stood quite stilland gave no sign that he had heard. He barely bowed his head when ashort, thick-set man pressed through the crowd and touched his arm. Theman was a henchman of his, widely and not favorably known in thecountry, a gambler and adventurer whose name was Tommy Dye. He wasleading the general's horse. There were a few words between them, andthen the tall figure vaulted into the saddle and disappeared in thesurrounding blackness of the forest.
"Now! Here she is. Quick!" cried the doctor.
So crying, he plunged into the storm-lashed sea of humanity like astrong swimmer. The boy followed as well as he could, using all hisstrength, but they were both dashed back again and again, till at last awilder wave caught them up and cast them down beside Ruth. Instantly thedoctor lifted her in his arms before David found breath, and held her aslightly as if she had been but a wreath of smoke blown across hisbreast. Holding her thus, and lifting her higher above those wildwaves, he bore her through them as if they had been but rippling water.On and on he went to the border of the forest beyond the tumult wherethe torchlight was brightest, and there he gently set her down. And thenall alone they stood silently looking at each other. They were stillgazing down into one another's faces, when the boy ran up, panting. Atthe sight of him the wonder went out of Ruth's blue eyes, and the frightcame back. The spell was broken, and she remembered where she was.
"David! Come to me. Take me away!" she cried. "Oh, what a fearful place!I can never forget it while I live. Where is William? We were separatedby the crowd."
But even as she spoke, in tones that trembled with alarm, while yet herbeautiful face was white and her blue eyes full of tears, there came oneof the swift changes that gave her beauty its greatest charm. A vividblush dyed her cheek, the long, wet lashes suddenly unveiled acoquettish glance, there was a dazzling smile, her hands went up to puther blown hair in order, and she drew on the forgotten gypsy bonnetwhich was hanging by its strings on her arm. She drew closer to the boy,but she looked at the doctor over her shoulder.
"Who is this gentleman, David?" she faltered. "And how--"<
br />
Paul Colbert spoke for himself, telling her his name.
"I am a doctor--the new doctor of the neighborhood," he said, addingwith a smile, "I beg your pardon. There was no other way. This younggentleman--who came with me--saw you. We had been trying for an hour ormore to reach you. We were afraid to lose the first chance to get youout of that dangerous crush."
His voice was drowned by a sudden roar which lifted the frenzy higherand brought it nearer. The color and smiles fled again from Ruth's face,and she clung to David in greater alarm.
"Take me home. Oh--oh--isn't it terrible! I can't wait to find William.I must go now. I wouldn't be afraid to go alone with you, dear. Not inthe least afraid. Take me--take me!"
"Come, then," said David. "The pony's over here."
"But I don't know where my horse is. I don't know where William tied it.I am so turned round that I don't know anything." She was beginning tosmile again at her own bewilderment.
"The pony can take us both," said the boy.
She was turning away with him when the doctor interfered with hesitatingeagerness:--
"If you will permit me--I would suggest that your friend who came withyou may be anxious. He will naturally try to find you. Not knowing thatyou are gone, he must be alarmed. If I knew him by sight, I could findhim and tell him--"
Again his voice was lost in the rising roar of the multitude. The girlburied her face against the boy's shoulder, shudderingly and trembling,and burst into weeping.
"Tell me what to do, David! I can't bear this any longer," she sobbed."Take me away. Tell me what to do! Oh! Oh!" putting her shaking handsover her ears to shut out the dreadful sounds.
The doctor touched her arm. "If you would allow me to take you home,perhaps this young gentleman could stay and find the person who camewith you." He turned quickly to the boy. "You know him?"
"Yes," David replied unwillingly.
His heart had begun to beat high. Here was a better chance to provehimself a man than he had dared hope for. And now this bold stranger wastrying to rob him of it. He struggled with himself for a moment, beforehe could give it up. But Ruth was crying and trembling and clinging tohim.
"I will find William," he then said hastily. "Let the doctor take youhome."
"But my horse is lost," Ruth lifted her head from David's shoulder andflashed a tearful, smiling glance at the doctor. "How can you take me?"
"Leave it to me," Paul Colbert said quickly, in the tone of a man usedto meeting emergencies. "Come with me. I will find a way."
It seemed to Ruth and David that he was one to find a way to whateverhe wished. They followed him like two children, to the spot where hishorse was tied beside the pony. He untied the bridle with the quicknessof constant practice, and sprang into the saddle with the ease of thepracticed horseman. He threw the reins over the pommel, and then bendingdown, held out his arms.
"Now!" he cried. "Give the young lady your hand for her foot!"
David hesitated, not understanding what he meant. It was the custom forthe women of the wilderness to ride behind the men; but it was plainthat this was not the young doctor's intention. He sat far back in hislarge saddle, and when Ruth set her foot in the palm of David's hand,and fluttered upward like a freed bird, he caught her and seated herbefore him. A word to his horse and they were away. He was holding Ruthclose to his breast, and her white garments were blown about him, asthey vanished in the black wilderness.
Round Anvil Rock: A Romance Page 6