CHAPTER XXII
The Three Religions Confront Him
Jack Shives's blacksmith shop, off the Main Street of Cedar Mountain,was noted for two things: the sound, all-round work it turned out in thesmithy line, and the "perchers," an ever-present delegation of villagecharacters that sat chewing straws as they perched on the shop lumber.Most of them came to hear old Shives talk, for Jack was a philosopherand no subject was out of his field. Hartigan liked Shives, enjoyed theshop with its smoke and flying sparks, and took a keen relish in theunfettered debate that filled in the intervals between Shives's ringingblows on the anvil.
Dr. Jebb thought himself a very up-to-date divine. He had tried to havea sort of free discussion in his study Sunday nights after meeting, butthe restraint of parsondom was over it all. He was really a painfullyorthodox old person; all his up-to-dateness was within the covers of thecatechism, and the real thinkers kept away. Dr. Carson had bettersuccess, but he was a bitter politician, so that all who differed fromhim on national or local politics avoided his house. The blacksmithshop, however, was open for all, and the real discussions of the villagewere there. Shives had a masterful way of assuming the chairmanship, andof doing the job well, often while pounding the anvil; sometimes aneffective punctuation of his remarks came in the hiss of hot iron thrustin the tank, and Shives enjoyed the humour of obliterating his opponentfor the moment in a cloud of steam.
Jim Hartigan, with his genial, sociable instincts, was found in Shives'sshop more often than in the tiny room which, with the bed, table, andbooks, was all he had in the way of home. Dr. Jebb was afraid to takeany large part in these deliberations. They were apt to discuss what heconsidered the undiscussable foundations of the Church. But Dr. Carsonwas one of the most strenuous of the debators.
"I tell you, there ain't a bit o' use o' your talking," said Shives. "IfI stick my finger in that fire, I'm a-going to get burnt and all theprayers and repentance I can put up ain't a-going to wipe off that burn.I've got to suffer for what I do just the same, whether I belong tochurch or not."
"Sure, now," said Hartigan, "if I see your point, there is little to it.You are talking about sin being its own punishment, which is true; butsuppose a doctor came along and by his work and skill saved you fromlosing the finger altogether and in the end your finger was little theworse and you were much the wiser--what about your theory then?"
"That is not the point. If it was the same thing, when I hurt my fingerI would only have to say, 'I repent; the Lord will take my punishment,'and at once my finger would be restored as it was before."
"Well, that may be your Church's creed, but it isn't mine," saidHartigan; and they wrangled till the blacksmith halted in his raking ofthe coals, turned to Hartigan, and beating in the air with his coal rakelike a band leader with his baton, he said with punctuated emphasis: "Mycreed tells me I must suffer for my own doings just as surely as if Ilay my finger on this anvil and hit it a crack with the hammer, and noman can save me from that, and if you tell me that God is a wild beastand merely wants a victim to punish, no matter who, then I want to knowwhere the justice comes in. There is not any greater wickedness than tolet the guilty escape, except it be to punish the innocent; and that'sthe whole sum and substance of your religion, which was neatly summed upby old Blue Horse down at Pine Ridge. After he had heard the missionaryexplaining it for about the thousandth time, he said: 'Ho, me see now;your God is my devil.'
"I tell you there's only one sum and substance of all religion that'sworth while, and that is to be a kind, decent neighbour, do your work,and help others to do theirs. You will find that set forth, straight asa string, in your own textbook, where it says, 'Love your neighbour asyourself.'" And the blacksmith drew the radiant iron from the forge topound, pound, pound, amid the laughter that proclaimed the defeat of thePreacher.
Hartigan was never strong on theology. At college he had neglected thechance to learn the cut and parry in that strangest of all games, andthe puzzle for which he had no quick answer was that of the burntfinger. In the smithy debates the answer had to be quick, or it was noanswer at all. He had lost the chance and was mortified to see theverdict of the crowd against him.
"Jack," he said, "I want you to come to church and see how simple it allis."
"Church. Huh! I think I see myself," said the blacksmith.
"That's not fair," said Hartigan. "You condemn church without going tosee what it is."
"Oh, I've been there a-plenty."
"When?"
"Twenty years ago."
"Oh, pshaw! It's all changed since then."
"Is it? That's a good one. I thought God's religion was unchangeable forever and ever. I tell you, young fellow, if you keep on working andthinking you will wind up with a religion of common sense and kindnesswhich, as near as I can make out, is what the man Jesus did preach."
"Then why don't you come to hear it?" retorted Hartigan.
"Because ye don't preach it."
"That's not a fair way to put it," reiterated Hartigan.
"See here," said Shives, "I will go to church next Sunday and rightalong, _if_ whenever you get off some fool statement that every oneknows is nonsense, you let me or some one get up and say, 'Now provethat, or take it back before you go further.'"
Hartigan was worsted. He did not retreat, but he was glad of theinterruption furnished by a wild horse brought in to be shod. Here hetook the lead and showed such consummate horse sense in the handling ofthe animal that the blacksmith growled, "If you'd put some of that intoyour pulpit, I'd go to hear you."
As Jim mounted Blazing Star and rode away at an easy swing, all eyesfollowed him, and the blacksmith growled: "'Homely in the cradle,handsome on the horse,' they say. He must 'a' been a clock-stopper whenhe was a kid. Pity to waste all that on a pulpiteer."
Later, the Preacher had a full discussion with Belle. The blacksmith haddented Hartigan's armour in several places. Where was the justice inpunishing one being for another's sins? Even if the sufferer waswilling, it was still wicked injustice. How could repentance wipe outthe self-brought injury? These were among the puzzles. Dr. Jebb was hisnatural helper, but the Preacher brought them first to Belle. She hadgone deeper and further than he had. She dreaded doctrinal discussion,but at length said:
"Did you never hear of the transfusion of blood whereby a man may giveof his strength and, by suffering, save a friend from death? Did younever hear of a man tottering and almost down who was found by a friendat the right moment, helped to greater strength by mutual suffering, andso restored to his balance before he went down to ruin?"
And the fervent answer was, "Yes, I have."
* * * * *
New vistas were opened to them by this open-hearted talk--trulycommunion--and as they rode through the gray-bloomed sage they followedstill the thought. Then he waved a hand and raised his face toward CedarMountain with its column seeming small against the sky.
"I want you to see it, Belle. I want you to stand there with me and knowhow much it means when your spirit is just right."
She swung her horse with his and they headed for the trail. He hadtalked to her about it before, but he had felt a little disappointedthat her imagination was not stirred as his had been--that the mysteryand charm, the emotional awe, so easy for his Celtic blood, had not beenconjured up in her by his words. But he still had hopes that the feelingof the far-up shrine would weave enchantment of its own; and he told herof the second sight that the fay of his mother's land could give if onesang a song of the one right pitch in the glen of the "very stone."
So they rode through the sage to the trailing cedar robe and followedupward till the upper edge of the fragrant woods was reached. There theytied the horses and climbed on foot to the upland. The grass among therocks was yellow now, and high gentians seized on the rare moment toflaunt their wondrous blue against that perfect background. A flock ofautumn birds rose up and flew on, as the climbers, reaching the SpiritRock, paused and turned to look out over
the golden plains to the east,over the blue hills to the north, and into the purple glow that thewaning sunlight left on all the west.
Belle rejoiced in it for its material beauty and its wealth of colour;and Jim, shyly watching her, said:
"Sometimes as I stand by this rock pinnacle and look over the plain, Ifeel as if I were an ocean rover, high up in the lookout, peering overthe rough and tumbling sea. It possesses me with more than the power ofa dream." Then, after a pause: "See, here is where the Indian boy wassitting as he kept his fast and vigil. I wonder what he saw. Some day,Belle, I want to take that vigil. Do you remember that the prophets ofold always did so when they sought light? I am learning that the Indianhad some light, and to-day I have done as he would do, I have brought mysacred medicine with me." He produced a little cedar box that his fatherhad made. He opened it and deeply inhaled its fragrance. "That is cedar,Belle; it carries me back to other days when, under the cedar shingles,my mother put her arm about me and prayed that I might find the EternalGuide."
He took out his mother's Bible, her photograph and the daguerreotype ofhis father. These were his sacred relics, and with them was a bundle ofcedar twigs to keep the fragrance ever there--to keep continually withthem the power, through smell, to conjure up those days and thoughts ofher love. Belle took them reverently and gazed at the prim old pictures;then she looked him squarely in the eyes, intensely for a moment, likeone who looks through a veil for the first time and sees a hiddenchamber unguessed before.
"Belle," he said, and his voice was a little husky; "if I had gone on tothe Big Cheyenne that time, I would have built a fire as soon as I hadthe chance and burnt all these to ashes; and then what--God only knows,for these were the vessels of my sanctuary; this was the ark of mycovenant, with the rod that budded, the tables of the law, and theprecious incense." She laid her hand on his in silent comprehension andhe went on. "All my life I have had two natures struggling within me;and the destroyer would have won, and had won, when you turned the rout.If you had not come to me in Deadwood I would surely have burnt theserelics. Now you understand. I couldn't speak about it down there; but uphere it is easy. Some time I may be missing for a couple of days. Do notworry then; it will only mean I have gone up into my mountain. I amseeking the light that comes from prayer and fasting and vigil in a highplace."
"I know those things as words," she said. "Just as we all learned themin Sunday-school; but you make them as real as this mountain, a part ofmy very life."
He replaced the relics in their cedar box and she realized that for thefirst time she had had a glimpse of the deep and spiritual quality ofhis soul.
BOOK III
THE HORSE PREACHER
The Preacher of Cedar Mountain: A Tale of the Open Country Page 23