Part 6

"But no sooner had he stepped on to the marble pavement than he stopped, trembling and rolling his eyes in terror. The groom coaxed him, and tried to lead him on, but every few yards he stopped, prancing restively, swerving away, drawing back. The people ceased to applaud; they even stilled their whispers of admiration, and held their breath. At last the beautiful animal reached the King's throne. The King stood up, his eyes shining with pleasure at the present. He would have descended to the animal's side, but the horse had begun to curvet and prance and shy away, as if from some unseen terror. In vain the groom patted his neck and spoke soothing words into his ear. The horse's eyes were starting from his head as if he saw something beside him which filled him with fear. He was beginning to rear, and the Court looked on in dismay. Had the Prince sent a wild, unbroken horse as a gift to their King?

"Then something strange happened. A little stable boy, who had come to the feast, stepped forward out of the crowd. Bowing low before the King, he said that he knew why the horse was afraid and would not stand before his Majesty.

"The King, who was always willing to hear the opinion of his very lowest vassal if it was worth hearing, gave orders that the royal groom should give the white horse into the charge of the little stable boy. Bowing low, the groom withdrew, and the boy took the golden reins into his hands. Gradually he led the horse, still prancing wildly, away past the throne. Then some twenty yards on he stopped, turned the horse round, and began leading him back. It was as if a miracle had been worked. The horse was perfectly quiet, and as he was led once more before the royal throne he stood still and calm.

"'Well done, little stable boy!' cried the King, stepping from his golden dais and patting the beautiful animal's neck. 'But tell me, little friend, why was he afraid?'

"'Sire,' said the boy, bending his knee, ''twas his own black shadow on the marble floor he feared. I did but turn his face to the sun, and the shadow is behind him, where he sees it not.'

"How do you boys go through your day?" asked the old Bishop, looking at each one with his keen, kind eyes, that twinkled like little blue jewels in his wrinkled face. "Do you go through the day filled with discontent?--trying first to avoid doing this disagreeable thing, and then that one? Afraid of a little trouble, a little pain, a little hardship? Do you pull away every time your conscience says, 'Tommy, come this way: do that'? Do you jump about and shy, and try and run away, like the white horse, when your mother has told you to do something or other? And are you always nervous--afraid of being 'found out'? And if you are alone in the dark do you get 'creeps,' and think there are bogeys coming after you?"

Some of the Cubs looked down on the ground, and answered nothing. They wondered how the Bishop knew all about them, when he was a stranger.

"Do you know how I know some boys are like that?" he said at length. "You see I have not always been a Bishop, and I have not always been very, very old! Once I was a very naughty small boy, and I can still remember exactly how it felt. I used to do all those things I mentioned to you just now. In fact, I behaved like the white horse; because, you see, I was looking at my shadow--that is, at my ugly little black self, and all _I_ wanted. I couldn't help seeing myself all the time, and I was always discontented. Why was it the horse saw his shadow?"

"'Cos he'd got his back to the sun," said one of the Cubs.

"Yes," said the Bishop, "and so had I--that's why I couldn't help always seeing myself. And then, one day, I turned round and faced the sun; that is, I turned and fixed my eyes on _God_, the great, shining Sun of our life--and my own shadow fell behind me, and I forgot all about what _I_ felt, and _I_ wanted. And I became so happy! And I wasn't afraid of being 'found out' any more. And I didn't get creeps in the dark. And it became easy to do all the hard things, because I was facing God and doing them for Him."

. . . . . . . .

"Wish the Bishop would come every week," said the Cubs, when he had gone, "and we wouldn't mind if he preached a sermon every time!"

Footnotes

[1]This story (like "In Mid Air") is also partly founded on fact, though the incident did not happen at St. Moritz, but at Maloja, a place some miles away from St. Moritz, but also in the Engadine.

[2]Although this story sounds impossible it is founded on fact. Some eight years ago, when I was at Sea View, Isle of Wight, I helped to fly an enormous kite made by a boy of seventeen. He himself went up on the rope in the way I have described, but fortunately there was no bull in this case, and, after a good fly, we hauled him down again, safely.

Transcriber's Notes

--Copyright notice provided as in the original--this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.

--Silently corrected palpable typos; left archaic spellings unchanged.

--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)

--Generated a spine image based on elements of the book cover.