Part 5

"This is the most valuable thing in this house. I've been in houses in St. John's fussed up with furniture and things, so many you felt you would disturb 'em by setting down, but this book wasn't no where to be seen and once I asked a woman to let me look at the Book, and she said she'd have to keep me waitin' till she found it, but she was quite sure she had it. Guess its wisdom never got very far into her soul.

"It's a satisfyin' book. Readin' of it is like quenching your thirst at a hill spring. In the days afore I was converted as a young fellow with the rest, I used to sail over to the French Island of St. Pierre and smuggle in a few gallons of rum. But it never quenched my thirst. It would leave me afterward, all-fired thirsty. But open this book and you find fountains of cool water.

"I've tried in the years to halt at the springs as Moses and his people did when they crossed the desert and come to a spring. There's many a river of the water o' life flowing sweet and fair as we journey thru the good book, but to me the promises are the springs and wife and I have lingered longest at the springs. We've marked them and there's a good many of them and we haven't found them all yet. She has helped me mark 'em. A fisherman's hands get a bit calloused and clumpsy and she does most of the markin', but I do my share of the discoverin'. It's always a happy night, when we find a new spring and rejoice in a new promise, but it's a glad night when we quench our thirst at any one of the never-failing springs. Their all of 'em fresh an' sparklin'; there's nary a one of His that are salt or bitter.

"Effie keeps a pencil handy there with her sewing things and when I find a new promise, I hand over the book to her and she underlines it. Then the favorite springs we mark in the margin, so we'll find 'em easy as we journey."

He opened the book, _his_ book it was in more ways than one. It was very much worn; its leaves were thumbed and now and then as he turned the pages a fish scale dropped out.

"Here are the Great Mountain Springs. The Master indicated them with a big, Blessed, so we wouldn't miss them, perhaps the clearest one is this, Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God, but they've all got sparkling water; their all promises that quench the soul's thirst.

"You will find some of these same markers in the Old Testament, though few folks seem to search there for the Blesseds. Here are some of the springs that are marked for our use.

"'Blessed are they that wait for Him!'

"'Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.'

"'Blessed is the man whom thou choosest and causest to approach unto Thee, that he may dwell in Thy courts: we shall be satisfied with the goodness of Thy house, even of Thy holy temple.'

"'Blessed is he that considereth the poor.'

"'Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee, in whose heart are the highways to Zion.'

"Let me turn the pages slowly and when I come to a favorite spring we'll halt a moment," commented Jim as he continues his reading.

"'He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.'

"It won't hurt you a mite, if you hev to wait awhile atween the verses. Most parsons read the Bible too fast. They go scurryin' thru the readin' like as though a shower was comin' an' they had to get in out of it post haste."

"'Fear not; I am with thee; be not discouraged; for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee, yes, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.'

"'With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.'

"That there first part has puzzled me somewhat, for I've known many a one to die young. My folks used to say the good died young, cause the Lord had need of 'em over there. Struck me as kinder queer. But I reckon He meant here just what He said, as He does elsewhere. It's His intention to have long life and goodness go together, only some of us interferes with His plan, but He lets us interfere 'cause it's best and will work out His way in the end."

"'He shall call upon me and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble. I will deliver him and honor him.'

"'Behold I will bring thee health and a cure.'

"'The Lord shall be thine _everlasting light_, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.'

"'There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.'

"Did you think," said Jim, interrupting his reading, "that there were so many bright, clear springs for the traveller?"

Then, without waiting for any answer, he continued slowly turning the pages, reading me from his marked places.

"'Delight thyself in the Lord and _He_ shall give thee the desires of thy heart.'

"'The joy of the Lord shall be your strength.'

"'He that endureth to the end shall be saved.'

"There are signs put up, too, not only to mark springs but to inform us," interpolated Jim.

"Now once as we was journeying, it come over me that these springs may have been intended for others and not for us and that very night, I come upon this sign and it took every bit of doubt out of my heart.

"'For the promise is unto _you and your children_.' How could it be plainer than that?"

As he closed the Book I said: "I, too, have a Book but I think sometimes I have lost my way as I journeyed and I am going to put up sign-boards of my own now, so I'll never lose my way again. There is no use to camp in dark valleys when just beyond are the hills and the springs. It's unwise to wander thru deserts of generalizations when the promises are close at hand."

"Yes," added Jim, "what do we care whether King Agag was hewed to pieces or not. We know the words of salvation."

XI

RAILROADING WITH THE KID

If there is anything that I have told you about Harbor Jim that sounds feeble or sickly sentimental, I have told you an untruth. Turn back to where I said it, and cross it out. It doesn't belong in this story. It's rank injustice to Jim.

I have fished with a good many of the Landers. I have been fishing off the banks when the weather has kept every man of us praying, who knew how to pray, and I have had a chance to judge of these bronzed fellows, big of hand and foot and the same of heart, most of them, as they met the wind and weather, the fortunes of life on the sea and the shore; and I want you to know I never have known and loved a manlier man than Jim.

Maybe that was why I was surprised one morning as we were returning to camp from a trip up the Humber River after salmon, to see the tears rolling down his cheeks and to note that he hastily took his sleeve and wiped his face and swallowed hard.

In this land of uncrossed lakes and unfished rivers, there is probably not a fairer one than the Humber River and there are reminders of Norway both on the lower and upper Humber.

It was with some difficulty that I had persuaded Harbor Jim to leave his home for the trip inland to the Humber for salmon fishing. The Lander does not take readily to a vacation, indeed, the average Lander cannot afford to take one. After several days of argument, Jim gave in, with this sentiment:

"I think the Lord must a been a good fisherman, else He wouldn't a picked fishermen to follow Him. He wanted to swap stories with 'em now and again. The Master knew by the ruffle and the shadow on the lake when the fish was schooling and he told Peter where to let down his nets. I have an idea He went away sometimes to fish as well as to pray and that fishin' with Peter and John, they come to know each other better."

After that Jim was as keen as a boy to get ready the lines and the flies and to pack our little outfit. We went on the train to Deer Lake, crossed the lower end of the lake and went up the river. We fished near Steady Brook Falls and away up at Big Falls and the weather was all that could be desired. We caught more salmon and trout than we needed and we were bringing out all that the law would allow us to transport. It had been the best week's fishing I had ever had, and there had been some surprises. We had by chance fallen in with an old friend of mine from the States and another day we had seen a stag of great size following the birds down to a pool.

All had gone so well with us that I was at a loss to account for this sudden demonstration of feeling. It was not like Jim. I knew him and his way well enough, to know that he would not wish to be questioned, so we tramped on in silence over the carry, and it was not for an hour afterward that he ventured an explanation.

"There at the carry you may have thought it strange, the way I acted up. That little fellow we seed there playing with his father's canoe, made me think of little Peter. I've never mentioned him, I seldom do, but I think a good deal about him and often I believe he is with me. He made the carry and past over to Kingdom Come three years ago.

"Do you know sometimes when I used to watch my little Peter playing, and the light and shadows would be around him, I used to think, pardon me, he looked like the pictures I've seen of the carpenter's Son, His Son. He was our first child, born out of our first wonderful love, but he never was a strong child. I don't know why. I never could think of him as becomin' a fisherman. He used to like better'n the average child, to journey with us thru the land o' the springs during the evenings, and I thought mebbe the Lord would call him to be a preacher, though I never let on to him, what I was a thinkin'.

"When he was eight, he got kinder spindlin' and at the same time he wanted to go to the woods and to see the island. He had another hankering, too, that was to ride on the trains. He used to collect engine numbers any time he was in St. John's. His mother used to say that she believed he'd be an engine driver instead of a preacher.

"At first I didn't pay much attention when he asked to go, but as he got thinner and paler, I began to take trips with him on the railroad. We had great times together going to places and for a time they seemed to chuck him up a bit. We went down to old Placentia one time. Ever down there? It's a lovely old place; lies sprawled out on a sandy beach with arms reaching round it and the hills sending down beauty on to it. We climbed the hill across the gut from the town, Castle Hill, and saw the crumbling ruins of the old French Fort and we went across to Bradshaw's and saw the Communion set that was presented by King William the Fourth.

"Sometimes we would take mother along and go to Top-sails and look down the bay as we ate our lunch. Then one time we went over to Belle Isle and saw the men working in the iron mines under the sea and Peter talked about what he saw for weeks. I was worried a good deal about him, but we both felt better on the trips. There was always something to see. For miles our railroad gives you Conception Bay with now a frame of hills and now one of spruces. Then in the centre of the island are great lonesome barrens where the caribou come to feed and the little nameless lakes are clustered. Peter had 'em all named, but I think he used to change the names sometimes. There were so many his little mind forgot the long list.

"Then 'twas fun to be on our railroad. It's a road that throws you about some; makes an impression on you, and a good hard one, sometimes. But it's the only railroad we've got in the Dominion and without it our country wouldn't have the farms it has now, nor friends like you, coming and going.

"I remember when we took the sleeper, the kid and I. We didn't often do that; we couldn't afford it, but this time we were going over to the Codroys and I put the little fellow to bed and sat down for a spell of thinking, across the aisle from him. Suddenly the train gave a lurch. Guess the engineer got kinder hot stoppin' to drive cows off the track and we was a hittin' it up as much as thirty miles an hour. What do you think? Little Peter come a flyin' down from his berth right into my arms and he says, not hurt a bit, only tickled:

"'Pa, a fellow has to be put to bed more'n once to stay put on our road.'

"He always called it our road, though he knew its short-comings as well as I.

"We only took one winter trip and that was a long one and I blamed myself many a time for taking the risk, though I don't know's it hurt him any, and I'm sure I always kept him warm and covered. When we got to Gaff Topsails, the track ahead was solid, sheer ice and the wind swept fierce across it from the south. They strapped the train on the track, so's it wouldn't tumble over. Seems funny now, but it wasn't then. But we didn't suffer any. They had lots of food-stuff aboard and when it give out the train hands went across the snow to the next town to get more. It took us fifteen days to get to Petrie's. The store-keeper at Petrie's had been up to St. John's to buy goods and he was on the train with us, anxious to get home. He was kind to little Peter and rode him pig-a-back every day, when it was too bad for him to walk about.

"The store-keeper reached Petrie's in thirteen days, two days ahead of the train, by walking the last ten miles. His folks was surprised, for they didn't expect him until the train got in.

"Still that trip we made better time than the trains sometimes do in the winter. One train took twenty-six days to get across the island.

"On these trips, Peter and I would come home with many a story to tell mother and little Peter would be wildly excited and there would be big, red spots in both his cheeks; and when the excitement of the trip was over he would grow weary. He would cough and want to eat less and sleep less, but always he was cheerful and a-planning for railroading with his Dad."

It came time to camp for the night and Jim stopped the story, as he started our fire and I began to put up our tent.

XII

THROUGH THE VALLEY WITH THE LITTLE FELLOW

When we had eaten our fill of fried salmon and blue-berry duff, that no one could stir up and bake better than Jim, and the camp was tidied for the night, Jim went on with his story.

He had come to the hard part of the story, the saddest part of his life, and I was glad that it was dark; I knew it would be easier for him. I was glad, too, that the camp fire was dying down, for thus I would see less of suffering that might be revealed could I see his face in the brighter light.

"I had the Grenfell doctor come. I'd sent ahead to have him met at the Hospital Ship and a doctor, a great man from the States, on his vacation, they said, come over here to our place. He was giving his vacation because he loved Grenfell and the fishermen.

"Little Peter answered all of his questions and I was sheer proud of him. I could see the Doctor liked the little man. He said to Peter, when he had finished examining him:

"'I'll make you better, my little man, if I can. You take all the eggs and milk the hens and the cows will let you have and grow so fat your mother won't know you.'

"But to me, he said, when he walked down the road a piece with me:

"'You're Harbor Jim, they tell me, a man loved hereabouts for the fights you've made to reach the harbor in a night of storm. I am hating to tell you, Jim, but it's goin' to be a hard fight this time, the hardest fight you ever had. There's a chance; but one lung is all gone and the other's bad. I'll do my best, but if you have to go thru the valley with the little fellow, I'll only hope you won't forget to live up to your reputation.'

"Then he left me all manner of directions, about eggs and milk that was to give him ammunition for the fight. Told me to soak him in sunshine and so on. And I did just as he told me. I gave him his cod-liver oil, when I had to invent fairy stories to get him to swallow it. I wrapped him up in blankets and sat him in the sunshine. His mother did as much or more'n I did. I used to listen of a night to see if he breathed all right. I listened, when ever Effie was asleep, to see if I could tell if he breathed as strong as he did the night before.

"Those days my heart was sore all the while, but I couldn't let on for fear she'd know just how I felt."

Jim swallowed hard, but he had made up his mind to tell me the story of little Peter and he wasn't the man to back down. He had a knife and a piece of a birch and he was whittling away. The light would flare up a moment and I could see him looking straight ahead into the fire and whittling faster.

"Then I had to cover it up from him; for little Peter was sure that he was getting better. Seems though the worse he got, the surer he was he'd be better tomorrow. When he got so weak I had to carry him across the room, he began to talk more about spring and railroading again with his dad.

"Sometimes when I'd been off and was comin' home, I dreaded so seeing him, thus weak, that I'd rather a-gone thru the Narrows on the darkest night God ever made, than to face Peter with a jolly quip. So many times then, and so many times since, I have thought, if I only could have toted the load for him. If only my hand could a-held it up for him. He was so little and frail and I was big and strong. And it was the utter, awful helplessness of it that made it so hard to bear. We wanted to help so bad and there was so very little that either of us could do.

"We didn't have Clara then. She didn't come until afterward, and then Peter was all we had. It didn't seem that we could give him up. I reasoned with myself and I didn't one night forget the Book. But there were nights when we halted at the springs that our mouths were so dry and parched that even the Water of Life seemed not to be sufficient to quench them.

"We went deeper and deeper into the valley. He grew weaker and weaker. Just like a little flower that is fading away. One night he grew worse. It was February, and I put on my snow shoes and started for St. John's for a doctor. I walked away into the night and I got a doctor and was back afore dawn.

"The doctor took his pulse and said:

"'He'll be crossing at the dawn.'

"Little Peter often listened to the Book and he was beginning to love it, too; and just before the sun broke that cold, February morning, he whispered:

"'God is light; in Him is no darkness at all.'

"Then it was morning, but oh, it was night and the valley for us! The doctor left us and we sat alone, her hand in mine. Effie didn't say anything; I think if she had I couldn't a bore it. And there was no minister present. I was glad of that, too. I guess they all want to help, but a good many on'em that I have knowed want to argue and to tell you it's all right and you don't want to talk just then and arguments don't offer much comfort. The time had come when only one could comfort us and we had to find Him. Some do not find Him for days, some for weeks, some never find Him again.

"The words that kept saying themselves over to me were these: 'Be still and know that I am God.' I was some impatient, some bitter. I know I oughtn't to have been, but I was, and I answered the Lord: 'I _am_ still; see me suffering here; is that all the message?'

"It was a good thing we had something to do. We had to see to the little wasted body. We had to arrange for the service. We had to tidy up the house. We shared it all, the new sorrow and the pain, just as we had shared the wallet and the joys. The minister come way from St. John's and I was grateful to him. I don't remember just what he said, but I am sure that Peter was worthy all the good he said of him; and I know that I needed all the prayer he made.

"But when it was all over and the house was so quiet, it was harder still. It didn't do no good to listen for his breathing. There was no need to think of eggs or milk for the little fellow's breakfast. He was gone!

"I was very tired and I was about to turn in that night after the funeral, when Effie said:

"'We need to halt by the springs more than ever.'

"I knew she was right, so with a sad heart I opened the Book. I never knowed just how it was, perhaps the Lord himself guided my hands, but we come to a little halt at the 14th chapter of John. It was the Spring of Comfort and Peace, we so much needed. It was the place where so many have camped before in their night of sorrow and gone forth strengthened and rejoicing in the morning. We were very thirsty and it was real water, the water of life and we drank as we never had drank before. He spoke to us and said: 'Let not your heart be troubled!'

"I won't repeat that chapter, but it has never lost its power, to refresh and comfort since the day He first uttered the words. If you ever have to go again thru the valley yourself; halt there. It will be the wisest thing you ever did.

"After that I was able to think clear again. I said to myself. I trusted the Father before and He never did me wrong. I can't just see, but I can trust and it will grow brighter and so it has, though sometimes I don't see quite plain, even yet. I know that He must have a place for the little fellow and He must know what Peter needs. He'll know how to pick the best teachers and all the experiences he needs. My Father is looking out for him. He can do no wrong."

For a little while all was quiet but for the chattering of the river as it hurried on down to sea. The wind freshened in the trees. Messages were passing above us. Jim brought a bundle of fresh wood and the fire leaped into a cheerful blaze. There was not any more that needed to be said. We both made an effort to shake off the sadness and fell to talking of the weight of the day's salmon catch, as we undressed. We carried but one little tent and slept together. Some hour after we had gone to bed, I imagined Jim was trying to find out if I was asleep without disturbing me. At last he decided that I was awake and said:

"I'm sure it's all right about little Peter. We're out of the valley now and are finding again the sunny plain."

XIII

THE QUEER ONE

"Sartin sure! By the big dipper, it's sartin shame!" Bob McCartney stood at my door all excitement as he delivered himself of these explosives.

Bob is a short man and middle-wide, and he is on the increase. This particular morning he stood on my stoop, the very personification of heat. He took off his hat and mopped his head and his red face and without waiting went on with his message.

"The Missus Jim is took sudden and terrible sick. Doc Withers is there and don't know what ails her. Think of anything she could take? Anything you know of she could do? Everybody is suggestin'! Neighbors comin' an' goin' all the while, tryin' to do something for the Missus Jim. Didn't seem to be anything more I could do. You can't try everything to onct, so think's I, I'll go and see him. He comes from New York an' mebbe he'll have a new idea."

"It might be a good thing to let one or two ideas have a chance," I replied. "I've noticed that ideas that get rushed and crowded don't do as well."

Bob brightened and pulling on his cap, backed down the stairs. "I'll tell 'em to go slow and let the first ideas have a chance."

I wisely concluded that Jim would have all the help and more than he needed and I did not call for three days. When I did Mrs. Jim herself answered my knock and from just behind Jim shouted:

"She's all right again. Didn't prove so bad as we thought. Something got inside of her that didn't belong there and soon's it got out, she come along all right."

"Was it the doctor or you, Jim, that cured her?" I asked, as I sat down.

"I've been thinking o' that a good deal, this day," he answered.