Friar Tuck

by Robert Alexander Wason

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  THE LITTLE GUST O' WIND

  I have seen some mighty quick changes brought about by flood o'circumstances breakin' on a man all of a sudden--ol' Cast SteelJudson, himself, had melted and run into a new mold the night o'Barbie's weddin'--but I never saw such a complete change as had tookplace in The since I'd first seen him. He loved devilment then, like abear loves honey; while now he had swung back with the pendulem clearto the other side, until he was more unworldly 'n the Friar himself.It wasn't what he said 'at made a feller feel funny inside, it was hiseyes. His eyes were all the time tryin' to tell things 'at his tonguecouldn't frame up, and it acted like brakes on a feller's breathin'apparatus.

  I asked the Friar about it one evenin' while we were walkin' backthrough the ravine. He walked along with his brows wrinkled a fewminutes, and then said: "You see, Happy, the whole human race is madeup o' millions of individuals, and each one is some alike and somedifferent. A man goes through childhood, youth, his fightin' period,and old age; and the race has to do the same thing.

  "Now, ages ago when the childhood o' the race began, folks weredownright primitive; they used stone axes, skins for clothing, and ateraw flesh. They were fierce, impulsive, passionate, just like childrenare if you watch 'em close enough; but they lived close to nature,just like the children do, and their bodies were vigorous, and theirminds were like dry sponges, ready to absorb whatever fell upon 'em.

  "The outdoor man of to-day is still primitive; he delights in hisdissipations, and recklessness, but the grim, set face which he wears,is a mask. The rich, pure air is all the time washin' his body clean,his active life keeps his nerves sound and accurate, and his heart islike the heart of a little child--hungry for good or evil, and needin'a guiding hand all the time.

  "In the mornin' a child is so full o' life that words don't mean muchto him; but when the play o' the day is over, he comes home, throughthe twilight shadows, bruised an' disappointed an' purty well tiredout. All day long he's waged his little wars; but now he is mightyglad to pillow his head close to his mother's heart; and then it isthat the seeds o' gentleness are easiest sprouted. This is thetwilight time for Promotheus."

  We didn't have anything more to say on this walk; but we both hadplenty to think of. It allus seemed to me that in some curious way,the Friar, himself, was better 'n his own religion. His religion madebadness a feller's own fault; but after gettin' to know the Friar, itallus made ya feel more like takin' some share in the other feller'ssin, than like pointin' your finger at him and sayin' he never was anygood, nohow.

  A couple o' days after this, the doctor told us that the sands wererunnin' mighty low in The's hour-glass, and it wouldn't be long to theend; but still we couldn't believe it. He didn't look bad, nor hedidn't suffer; and we had seen him come back from the grave almost,that time at Olaf's when Horace had claimed his life, and had savedhim in spite of himself.

  Then again, the doctor had missed it on Janet, and we were all hopin'he'd get slipped up on again; but The himself seemed to side with thedoctor, and Olaf took one long look, an' then shut his lips tight an'shook his head. The said he wanted to live, and had done all he couldto get a clinch on life; but that it was slippin' away from him dropby drop, and he couldn't stay with us much longer.

  He seemed to want us about him, so we dropped in and sat beside him aslong as we could keep cheerful. All through the afternoon he lay witha serious, gentle smile on his lips, but the sadness was mostly gone,even from his eyes. I closed my own eyes as I sat beside him, andcalled up the picture o' Badger-face the day he had wanted to lynchOlaf. Then I opened my eyes and looked at the real Promotheus, and Iunderstood what the Friar meant by bein' born again.

  I spoke o' this to ol' Tank Williams, and he fired up at me as thoughI had poured red pepper in the nose of a sleepin' cripple. "You're anice one, you are!" sez he. "I'd sooner fill myself with alcohol anddie in a stupor than to call up The's past at such a time as this. Youought to be ashamed o' yourself."

  The' was no way to make Tank see what I meant so I sent him in to setwith The a while, and took a little walk up the ravine. Every step Itook brought some memory o' the time The and Horace and I had firststarted to find out about the woman; and it wasn't long before I wasready to turn back.

  Janet was quite strong by this time, though she still had to wear abandage; and after supper, the Friar took her in to see Promotheus. Hehad told her all about him, and she was mighty sorry to think 'at hisend was near. She didn't recall havin' been kind to him when he wasplayin' cripple; but the Friar had told her about this, too. Horacehad told the Friar about what Ty had said, and it had cut him purtydeep; but he had braced up better 'n we expected. We didn't any of usknow what effect bringin' Janet in sight o' Ty would have, and whenshe came into the mess-hall, we watched purty close.

  Ty sat propped up, with his clenched hand restin' outside the blanket,and an expression on his face like that of a trapped mountain-lion. Heglared up at her as she came near; but she only looked at him withpity in her eyes, and she didn't seem to recognize him, at all--justlooked at him as though he was a perfect stranger which she was sorryfor, and Tank, who was settin' next me, gave me a nudge in my shortribs, which was about as delicate as though it had come from the hindfoot of a mule. "Well?" I whispered. "What do ya mean by that?"

  "Couldn't ya see 'at she didn't know him?" sez Tank.

  "That's nothin'," sez I. "He knew her all right."

  "Yes, but Great Scott," sez he, "a man can't claim that a woman's hiswife if she don't know him, can he?"

  "Pshaw," sez I, "if you'd settle things that way, the' wouldn't be anymarried people left. The' ain't one woman in fifty 'at knows herhusband, and the' ain't any men at all who know their wives."

  "You're just dodgin' the question," sez Tank. "I claim that if a manmarries a woman when she's out of her mind, he ain't got any claim onher when she gets back into her mind again."

  "Look here, Tank," sez I; "you've never had much experience with theworld, 'cause every time you went where experience was to be had, yougot too intoxicated to take notice; but I'm tellin' you the truth whenI say that if women didn't sometimes get out o' their right minds,they wouldn't get married at all."

  "Aw, shut up," sez Tank.

  Janet had gone over to Promotheus, and was smoothin' his forehead. Shehad a beautiful, shapely hand, and it made me feel a little wishful towatch her. The lay perfectly still, and his sensations must 'a' beenpeculiar. Ty Jones didn't even look at 'em. He kept his brows scowleddown and his gaze out the south window.

  Presently Janet turned and walked out to the porch. It was anunusually warm night, and she sat there alone, while the Friar cameback to The. Horace had gone off by himself to get a grip on hisfeelin's; but he came in about nine o'clock, and went up and tookThe's hand. "Well," sez he, "have you finally got over your nonsense?I have a lot o' plans I want to carry out, and you know I can't haveyou loafin' much longer."

  Nothin' suited The so well as to have a little joke put at him; but hedidn't have any come-back to this. He caught at his breath a time ortwo, and then said: "I can't do it, this time, Horace. I hate todisappoint ya--I've been countin' on what a good time we were goin' tohave--up there in the hills--but I can't come back this time--I,can't, quite, make it."

  He ended with a little gurgle and sank back on the pillow. Horaceshook him a little and then flew for the doctor, who was on the porcho' the old cabin. They were back in half a minute, Horace pushin' thedoctor before him; and we all held our breaths when he felt The'spulse. The doctor squirted somethin' into The's arm, and after a bit,he opened his eyes with a long sigh, and when he saw Horace bendin'over him, he smiled.

  "I mighty near slipped away that time," sez he. "It's not goin' to behard, Horace; and I don't want you to worry. I feel as comfortable asif I was sleepin' on a cloud, and there isn't one, single thing togrieve about. I've been like one o' those hard little apples whichtake so long to ripen. I've hung up on a high bough and the rains beaton me, a
nd the sun shone on me, and the winds shook me about, and thebirds pecked at me until at last just the right sort o' weather camealong and I became softer and softer, and riper and riper, until nowmy hold on the stem begins to weaken. Purty soon a little gust'll comealong and shake me down on the green grass; but this is all right,this is perfectly natural, and I don't want you to feel bad about it.

  "I own up now, that I've been afraid o' death all my life; but thishas passed. I don't suffer a bit; but I'm tired, just that pleasantweariness a feller feels when his last pipe has been smoked, and theglow o' the camp fire begins to form those queer pictures, in whichthe doin's o' that day mingle with the doin's of other days. I'mliable to drop off to sleep at any moment, now; and I'd like--I'd kindo' like to shake hands with the boys before I go."

  Well, this gave Horace something to do, and he was mighty glad to doit. After we had all shaken hands with The, he marched up theprisoners, even to the Chink, and they all shook hands, too; and bythis time Prometheus was purty tired; but he did look unusualcontented. He glanced across at Ty; but Ty had turned his face to thewall, and The gave a little sigh, settled down into the pillow again,and closed his eyes. Horace backed around until The couldn't see him,and shook his fist at Ty, good and earnest.

  Purty soon a regular grin came to The's face, and he opened his eyesand looked at the Friar with a twinkle in 'em. "Friar Tuck," sez he,"I don't know as I ever mentioned it before, but I'll confess now thatI'm right glad I didn't lynch you for stealin' those hosses." He laythere smilin' a minute, and then held out his hand. "Good-bye,Horace," he said in a firm voice.

  Horace had been doin' uncommon well up to now; but he couldn't standthis. He threw himself on the bed, took both o' The's hands and lookeddown into his face. "Promotheus, Prometheus," he called to him in ashakin' voice. "Don't give up! You can win if you fight a whilelonger. Remember that day in the desert, when I wanted to lie down andend it all. You said you didn't take any stock in such nonsense; andyou picked me up and carried me over the molten copper, while queerthings came out o' the air and clutched at us. You reached thewater-hole that time, Promotheus, and you can do it again, if you justuse all your might."

  Promotheus opened his eyes and his jagged, gnarly teeth showed in asmile, weak and trembly, but still game to the last line of it."Nope," he said so low we could hardly hear him, "I'm Promotheus, allright. I hung on as long as I could; but the vultures have finished myliver at last, Horace--they have finally finished it. I hate to leaveyou; but I'll have to be goin' soon. The's only one thing I ask ofya--don't send a single one o' the boys to the pen. They don't knowwhat the world really is; but shuttin' 'em out of it won't ever teach'em. If the's anything you can do to give 'em a little start, it wouldbe a mighty good thing--a mighty good thing." His voice was gettin'awful weak, an' he'd have to rest every few words.

  "And Ty Jones, too," he went on, "Ty was square with me in the olddays. Try to make him understand what it was 'at turned me again' him;and if the's any way to make things easier for Ty, I want you to haveit done. Ty had a lot o' tough times, himself, before he turned allthe hard part of his nature outside. Don't bear him any malice,Horace. Seventy times seven, the Friar sez we ought to forgive, andthat many'll last a long time, if a feller don't take offence tooeasy. The's a lot o' things I don't understand; but some way it seemsto me that if I could just go out feelin' I had squared things withTy, I'd be a leetle mite easier in my mind."

  Horace stepped to Ty's bed and shook him by the arm. "Did you hearwhat he said?" he demanded. "You know he's achin' to have you speak tohim decent. Why don't ya speak to him?"

  Ty looked cold and stony into Horace's eyes, and then took his lefthand and pushed Horace's grip from off his arm. Horace stood lookin'at Ty with his fist clinched. The turned and saw it and a troubledlook came into his face.

  "Friar Tuck," he said, "you meant it, didn't ya--that about forgivin'seventy times seven?"

  "I did," sez the Friar, his voice ringin' out clear and strong inspite of its bein' low pitched. "Be at peace, Promotheus, the laws ofman are at war with the laws of God; but they're bound to lose in theend. I want you to know that I forgive Ty Jones as fully as youdo--and I shall do everything in my power to square things up withhim."

  The held out his hand to the Friar, and they clasped in acomrade-grip. "I can trust you," he said; "and I know you'll do allyou can to make Horace see it that way, too."

  "I forgive him, too, you big goose!" cried Horace. "I promise you thatI'll do all I can for him--on your account. Though I must say--but no,I mean it, Promotheus. I forgive him from my heart, and I'll be asgood a friend to him as I can."

  "Now, let the little gust o' wind come," sez The. "I'm perfectly ripeand ready for it, now."

  The' was silence for several minutes; and then Promotheus said in afaint voice: "Friar, I wish you'd sing to me. All my life I've longedto hear a cradle-song, a regular baby cradle-song. I know it's adamn-fool notion; but I never had it so strong as I've got it now--andI wish you'd sing one to me. My mother was a widow, mostly. Shecleaned out offices at night to earn enough to keep us alive. Shesacrificed her life for me, but I couldn't understand this then.

  "Night after night I used to creep in from the street through dirty,stinkin' halls, and cry myself to sleep. An achin' came into my heartthen which hasn't never quite left it; and it was this lonesomeness'at finally made me run away--leavin' her to face it out--all byherself.

  "My blood has turned to water, I reckon, and I feel like a babyto-night. I don't suffer, understand; I feel as though I was a littlechap again, and that my mother didn't have to work; but was holdin' meon her lap. She did hold me that way once--the time the ambulancebrought my old man home--but she couldn't sing then. It seems to methat if you'd just sing me a regular cradle-song--I could slip awayinto pleasant dreams."

  The Friar cleared his throat a time or two before he found his voice;and then he said in a low tone: "I used to sleep in a store-box,Promotheus, when I was a lad--and I know exactly what you feel. I'llsing you a cradle-song, a song for little children of all ages. It isa great privilege to be a little child, Promotheus, and--and I wishyou pleasant dreams."

  Then Friar Tuck drew a deep, full breath, and held it down until allthe quiver had gone from his lips. When he started to sing, his voicewas low an' soothin', and full o' tenderness; and after the firstline, Promotheus gave a little sigh o' content, nodded his head, andshut his eyes.

  The' was one tune we every last one of us liked. The Friar generallysang it to words which began: "Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah"; and heusually sang it with a swing which was like a call to battle; and thistime he sang the same tune, but soft and close and restful, and thewords he used began: "Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me." These wordssound purty flat when ya give 'em cold; but they didn't sound empty tous, as we stood lookin' down at Promotheus. All alone, he had takenhis chance when he took on with Ty Jones; and now he was cashin' inthis chance and it made us mighty sober.

  The Friar finished the first four lines alone, and then the angelsseemed to join in with him. We had all been purty certain that the'wasn't nothin' in the shape of earthly melody fit to hold a candle tothe Friar; but just at this point a new voice joined onto the Friar'swhich sent a thrill through us and made us stop breathin'. A queer,half frightened look crossed the Friar's face for a second; but hisvoice didn't waver for a single note. Instead, the' came a new tone ofthanksgivin' and confidence in it which took all the sting out o'death and made it all right and pleasant, like the cool andrestfulness o' night, after the heat of day.

  "All this day Thy hand has led me, And I thank Thee for Thy care; Thou hast warmed me, clothed and fed me; Listen to my evening prayer,"

  went on the song and the' came an expression of wonder and of joy intoThe's tired face.

  There are only three little verses to this one, and to fill out thetune they had to sing the first one over again, soft and low. Thecandles threw a soft glow on The's face which hid the pallor of it andthe rough lines
, but brought out all the kindly strength we had cometo be so fond of; and when the music died away, we all sat still forfear o' disturbin' him.

  Horace had been settin' holdin' one of his hands, and after a bit heleaned forward and whispered, "Was that what you wanted, Promotheus?"

  But the' wasn't any reply. The little gust o' wind had come with thesong--and fully ripe, and soft to the core of his big, warm heart,Promotheus had loosed his hold on the bough of life, and dropped offonto the soft, deep grass of eternity.

  "Promotheus! Promotheus!" cried Horace, and then covered his face withhis hands and dropped forward upon The's quiet breast.

  "Badger-face," called a harsh voice, and we looked at Ty Jones and sawhim leanin' towards The. "Wait, Badger-face, wait--I want to speak toya. I want to tell you that I lied to ya. Oh Lord, it's too late, it'stoo late!" And Ty Jones pressed his hand across his eyes and sankback.

  Horace whirled to tell Ty what he thought of him; but the Friar placedhis big hand on Horace's shoulder, and pointed down to The's placidface. Horace gave a shudderin' sob, and settled back into his formerposition.

  Janet Morris crossed the floor to the Friar just then and said to himin a low tone: "I have found it again--my voice has come back to me."

  Ty Jones took his hand down from his eyes and straightened up andlooked at her. All the eagle had gone from his face, and it looked oldand haggard. "Don't you really know who I am?" he asked.

  She looked at him and shook her head.

  "I'm your half-brother," he said. "I'm Tyrell Jones Morris. Yourmother might have been a good woman, but she was not good to me--shewasn't fair; she prejudiced my father again' me. You were sellin'tickets at an elevated station in New York when I found you. Youlooked a good deal like your mother, for you were weak and sickly. Ididn't know then, whether I brought you back with me because we hadthe same blood in our veins, or because I hated you--and I don't knowyet. I'm not tellin' you this now, because I care any thing for you,or the preacher; but Badger-face was square, and I know now 'at he'dnever have turned again' me if the rest of ya hadn't tampered withhim. I'm sorry I didn't tell him before he died--and that's why I'mtellin' you now."

  I winked my eyes to the boys, and we filed out and went over to thebunk-shack. We lighted our pipes and sat a long time smokin' insilence. One by one they dropped off to bed until only me and ol' TankWilliams was left. Tank sat with a sour look on his face, and sodeeply buried in thought that the burnt matches around his stoollooked like a wood pile. "What are ya thinkin' of, Tank?" I said tohim.

  "I'm not kickin', understand," sez he; "but it does seem to me thatwhen all The asked for was a cradle-song, the Friar could 'a' thoughtup somethin' besides another one o' those doggone sheep-herder hymns.The didn't have any more use for sheep-herders 'n I have."

  This was the real Tank, all right. Once an idee took possession ofhim, it rode him rough shod till he keeled over with his tonguehangin' out.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  THE FINAL MOVES

  We buried The by the side o' Tim Simpson. Horace insisted on makin' acoffin for him--fact was, he wanted to have a regular funeral, but wetalked him out o' this; so he made a coffin himself and lined it withsilk which Ty Jones had brought out for Janet to make dresses of. TheFriar held some short services, but he didn't sing or preach any. Someway, the' didn't seem to be any need of it. After we had covered himover we stood around talkin' for quite a while; and then only turnedaway because the first rain we had had for months came rattlin' downfrom the mountains.

  "Do you see that, now?" asked ol' Tank after we had reached the porchand were sittin' watchin' it come down in torrents.

  "I'm not totally blind," sez I.

  "Well, I'm not superstitious," sez Tank; "but I'm bettin' that he'shad that tended to, himself. He wasn't one to forget his friends, andhe knew 'at what we needed most was rain--so he's called attention toit the first chance he's had."

  Fact was, Tank was so everlastin' superstitious that he spelt Tomaswith an "h" in it to keep from havin' thirteen letters in his fullname; but it did seem queer about this rain, because they wasn't anysane man in the world who would have expected a rain just at thistime. It's astonishin' how many curious things there is if a fellerjust takes notice of 'em.

  The Friar and Ty had had a long talk the night 'at Promotheus slippedaway, and the Friar had agreed to settle down at the ranch and do whathe could for Ty. Ty wasn't thankful; but he hadn't much choice, so hebehaved better 'n any one would have expected. The Friar wanted me tostay and be foreman for him; but I told him I had promised Jabez tocome back as soon as I had got a good holt on myself again; and Iintended to leave for the Diamond Dot the minute things were right atthe Cross brand. The Friar didn't much trust Pepper Kendal forforeman; but the minute I thought it over, I saw that Olaf was thevery man, and this suited the Friar to a T.

  We brought the prisoners up to Ty and he told 'em how things were andadvised 'em to adjust themselves to new conditions as fast aspossible, and they all agreed to do it and went to work under Olaf.The Friar knew a preacher at Laramie; so Horace gave Tillte Dutch thejob o' goin' after him, and as soon as he came, the Friar and Janetwere married, and then I made plans to hit the trail for the DiamondDot.

  Horace had made up his mind to build himself a cabin up at our oldcamp and he tried to hire me for life; but I had taken root at theDiamond, and when I explained things to him, he owned up I was right.I suggested to Horace that ol' Tank Williams was the very man for him,and he admitted, when he came to look it over, that Tank would suithim a heap better for hired help 'n I would. He even went so far as tosay he never could understand how it came 'at a stiff-necked man likeol' Jabez could put up with my independent ways. I told Horace the'was a lot of things it wasn't necessary for him to understand, andthen I whistled to Tank, and he came over and joined us.

  Tank rolled the notion about in his head a while, and then he sez:"Horace, I'll take ya up. We both got cured up of our nerves on thesame trip, and ever since then I have to own that you've found favorin my sight; but the one thing 'at counts bigger 'n anything else, isthe fact that, come what will, you'll never have any more hankerin' tobe pestered by a lot o' sheep, than I will."

  Olaf started to get things ready for the round-up and us Diamond Dotboys, aside from ol' Tank, rode off home, where we found things inconsid'able of a muddle. Durin' the three years previous I had beentakin' more and more o' the responsibility onto my own shoulders, andol' Cast Steel found himself purty rusty. We turned to andstraightened things out, and then I settled down to the sober businesso' handlin' a big outfit with a view on the future.

  After this, I didn't do any more skitin' around than my peculiarnature seemed to insist on; but I did make out to pay the Cross branda visit every once in a while. The Friar only intended to stay longenough to get things to slidin' easy; and then he and Janet were to goback East and work among the city poor; but the chance never came.

  Janet grew perfectly strong and well again; but the city allus madeher nervous to return to the mountains, and they were kept so busy onthe ranch that the years slipped away without bein' noticed.

  Ty's backbone was all in one piece, and solid--except where Olaf hadunjointed it--and it took years to wear him down to friendliness; butwhen the Friar's first baby got big enough to creep, the contrarylittle cuss took more interest in ol' Ty Jones, than in airy otherthing the' was on the place. I never saw any one yet who didn't feelflattered at a baby's endorsement--though why a baby should besupposed to actually have better judgment than grown folks has neverbeen fully explained to me yet.

  Horace kept his word to The, and he did all he could for Ty. Ty didn'tlike him and he didn't like Ty; but Ty was human, and it made himlonely to sit in one spot all the time, so that while he refused to bethankful, he gradually got to relyin' on Horace; and Horace was alsohuman, and the more he did for Ty on The's account, the more fond hegrew of Ty on his own account. He got him a wheelchair first, and thiswas a big help. Then he fixed up a trapeze f
or Ty to practice on. Tygot mad about this and said that cripple though he was, no man couldmake a monkey of him; but one night when he couldn't sleep hepracticed on it, and it gave him a lot o' relief.

  The name of the Chinaman was Yuen Yick, and he thought 'at Ty Joneswas some sort of a god, and fair worshipped him--every one o' Ty's menswore by him, even after he turned decent. Ty used to abuse the Chinkall he could and it pleased 'em both; and the Chink saw that Horacemeant well by Ty, so he kept Horace posted on just what Ty did andthought; and Horace had Janet make some flannel bricks filled withcotton for Ty to throw at the Chinaman. Ty got a lot o' satisfactionout o' these bricks, and the exercise helped him too.

  Next, Horace had a wide porch built all around Ty's house, and heswung ropes with rings on 'em from the ceiling, an equal distanceapart; and Ty got so he could swing from ring to ring, and go allaround the house, and climb ladders, and as the boy got big enough tobecome tyrannical, which was soon enough, goodness knows, he made Tydo all manner o' stunts--throw balls and juggle 'em, tell stories,draw pictures--Well, the fact was, that between 'em all, they kept Tyso active that first we knew, the devil had all been worked out of himand he was as civilized as any of us. One day when Horace was downvisitin' him, he sent in the Chink and had him bring out a set ofivory figures, carved most beautiful and called chess-men; and hedared Horace to play him a game, and this was the final surrender ofthe old Ty Jones.

  He was a well edicated man, Ty was; and each winter when he had leftthe ranch, he had gone to some big city where he had pertended to be aregular swell. No one ever found out just what had soured him so onthe world, for his nature was to be sociable to a degree. He said thatno one knew the cause of it except ol' Promotheus, and it was mightilyto his credit that he hadn't devulged the secret.

  Ty strung out his surprises quite a while. It seems he was also aninventor, and had patents which brought him in a lot o' money. He hadfound this cave and had just widened it where widenin' was necessary,and had built his cabin above it. The floor was double and filled withearth, and the fake drawers were also filled with earth, so 'at nosound would show that it was hollow underneath. The drawers swung on asteel piller which could be worked from above by a rope which hungback o' his bookcase and from below by a lever.

  It was a curious thing to see Ty Jones with his bristly eyebrows andhis eagle's beak of a nose, makin' mechanical toys for the Friar's andOlaf's children. They didn't put any limit on what he was able to do,and he used to grumble at 'em as fierce as a grizzly--and thenback-track like an Injun, and do whatever they wanted him to.

  The Friar never quite gave up his plot to go back and work among thepoor; but the' was allus so many things imposed upon him by the homefolks that he was pestered with letters every time he left; andusually compromised by gatherin' up a bunch o' the poor as hasty aspossible, and bringin' 'em back with him. His head was full of what hecalled welfare plans, and he settled the poor along all the likelycricks he found vacant, and bulldozed 'em into goin' to work. It's acurious coincident; but most of 'em turned out well.

  The' was a bilious feller out visitin' me once, which called himself asosologist. I told him about some o' the Friar's projects; and he saidthat the Friar was nothin' but a rank Utopian, and that this sort o'work would never remove all the evils of the world.

  "You can call him anything ya want to," sez I, "so long as it's a wordI don't understand; but the Friar's not tryin' to remove all the evilsin the world. He only removes those evils he can find by spendin' hiswhole life in huntin' for 'em; but he certainly does remove these onesin quick and able shape."

  Another time, right after the Friar had brought about a settlementbetween some sheep and cattle men, a preacher dropped off to give hisappetite a little exercise at the Diamond Dot. He belonged to the sameherd that the Friar had cut out from, and I thought he would beinterested; so I told him consid'able about the Friar. He was a mostjudicious-lookin' man, but baggy under the eyes and chin. He got allfussed up when I spoke well o' the Friar, and said he wasun-co-nonical, said he was unorthodox--Oh, he cut loose and swore atthe Friar in his own tongue 'til I about lost my temper.

  "Look here," I sez to him, "it would take me some months to tell youall the good deeds the Friar has actually done; but I'll just give youone single example. If I was to live up to my natural disposition, I'dwring your neck, or shoot off your ears, or somethin' like that; butowin' to the Friar havin' taught me self-control, I'm not even goin'to snap my fingers again' your blue nose. Make yourself perfectly athome here, and stay as long as the East can spare ya; but you'll haveto excuse me for a while, as the Friar has just written me an order togo over into the Basin to see what can be done for a young feller whohas been arrested for hoss-stealin'."

  Horace contributes liberally to the Friar's projects; but he don'ttake a hand in the game, himself--except with the imported poor whichare gathered at the Cross brand, waitin' to be transplanted. Everyyear he seems to shrink about an eighth of an inch smaller, and getabout that much tougher. He lights out for a trip now and again, andol' Tank allus tags along, grumblin'. Tank thinks full as much ofHorace as The did; but Tank's a different proposition. The easier hislot is the more he grumbles; but I like nothin' better than to have achat with him over old times.

  One night I was up visitin' Horace, and after supper we got a littlerestless and started out for a walk. We sauntered down to our oldlook-out and stood gazin' down at the lights of the Cross brand ranch.Ty had rigged up a water power to manufacture e-lectricity, simplybecause the children had needed it to run some o' their idees, butthe' was plenty of it to light the whole place. In token of Ty'sbrand, and also as a symbol of his own callin', the Friar had built animmense cross on the cliff just above the mouth of the ravine, and onthe upright, and at each end o' the cross-piece were big electriclights. These could be seen for miles, and every one knew 'at whatevertroubles they had, there was allus welcome, cheery hospitality, andsound advice waitin' for 'em in the shadow of this cross.

  It was a moonlight night, one of those crisp, bright nights, when itmakes a feller feel solemn just to get up high and look down at thebeauty of the old, hard Earth. We had been talkin' o' the old days asusual; but not talkin' much, for we each saw the same set of pictureswhen we looked down from here, and they didn't need many words.

  "Life is like a game o' chess," sez Horace. "The openin' is not soabsolutely vital; but after a time the' comes one little move which isthe keynote of all the balance of the game--and the same is true o'life. The way things has turned out down yonder seems to be the verybest way they could have turned out; but it's hard to look back andtell just what was the keynote of it all. Of coursePromotheus--Promotheus was the prime mover; but then all the way alongyou can see the Friar's influence. What would you say was the keynoteo' this tangled game, Happy?"

  I looked down at Horace: he was wearin' a battered old hat, roughclothes and leggins, and smokin' a corncob pipe. "That's an easy one,"sez I, tryin' to shake off a feelin' o' sadness which was beginnin' tocreep over me, in spite of all I could do; "gettin' your nerves curedup, Horace, was the keynote of it all."

  "That was a long time ago," sez Horace, "a long, long time ago."