The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 1, 1903, Page 5

\ DAY CALL. i who was He p with the of Go was most w and well, she of my re- mon The on me in I knew not til th s a man witk I spoke nd they shrank nger. But and act hen the But when priest stood I asked th that he y over his to pray. h, always the his body and woman-child 1d god cry, for word nd I came the Great Mackenzie white of the Yu- did I come. And s is the t I have Jooked These people, folk, among and thejr We ask to be want your kind. » it by our fires after ou will come your church, your priests nd your gods. And know this, for each te man who comes to my village him ke deny his God. You are the wed ple e a simple s their law, aic f we permit ¥ - wrecked give grace. and go quickly.' r my brothers, you Sa it nsible f " ‘utlw'ul of speech as n of action. know breed.” other. “Your brothers are ma §t is you and yours who break t or them to follow. I time the: e to possess th , but not in my time. You may go back to your brothers, he Koyokuk all not go riests and fighting men do my do I command, I, Bap- whose word is law dver responded and trail shall your you Th Red, this people. 'And should I not go down to the Rus- slans or back to my brothers?" “Then shall you go swift-footed before your God, which is a bad God and the God of the white men.” The red sun shot up above the north- dripping and bloody. Bap- e the Red came to his feet, nodded curtly and wem back to his camp. Hay Stockard finished his pipe by the fire, picturing in smoke and coal the un- nown upper reaches of the Koyokuk, strange stream which ended here its Arctic travels and merged its waters with the muddy Yukon flood. Somewhere up there, 1f words of a ship- rman who had made the ey were to be believed, and iden grains in bis pouch omewhere up there re House of the North. And as keeper of the gate, Babtiste the Red, ‘English half-breed and renegade, batred the way. “Bah!” He picked the embers apart and rose to his full height, arms lazily outstretched, facing the flushing north with careless soul. err the fearful jc stood the Treasu Hay .Stockard swore, harshly, in the rugged monosyilables of his mother tongue. His wife lifted her gaze from th: pots and pans and followed his In a kesn scrutiny of the river. She was a woman of the Teslin country, wise in the ways of her husband's vernacular when it grew intensive. So she knew the present oc- casion merited attention. A long canoe, with paddies flashing back the rays of the westering sun, was crossing the cur- rent from above and urging in for the eddy. Hay Stockard watcned it intently. Three men rose and dipped, ruse and dipped, in rhythmical precision; but a red bandana, wrapped about the head of one caught and held his eye. “Bill’” be called. *“Oh, Bill!" A shambling, loose-jointed giant rolled out of one of the tents, yawning and rub- S ,/ i @ ng the sleep from his ey Then he si the strange canoe and wus wide ke on the instant. the jumping Methuselah! That Hay Stockard nodded his head bitterly, hed for his rifle, then shrugged s shoulders, shot him,” Bill suggested, “and settle the thing out of hand. He'll spoil us sure if we don’t.” But the other de- clined drastic measure and turned away. two I in the canoce moored it on the edge of its wk occupant, gorgeous headg Like Saul of Tarsus, the eddy, while conspicuous: by his ne up the bank. I give you greet- ing. Peace be unto you and grace before the Lord." His advances were met sullenly and without speech. “To you, Hay Stockard, blasphemer and Philistine, greeting. In your heart is the lust of mmon, in your d cunning devils, in your tent this woman whom you live with in adulter yet of these divers sins, even here in the wilderness, I, Stur- apostle tn the Lord, bid you to and cast from you your iniquities.” ges Owen, repe “Save your cant! Save your cant!" Hay Stockard broke In testily. “You'll need all you've got, and more, for Red Baptiste over yonder.” ¢ He waved his hand toward the' Indian camp, where the halfbreed was looking steadily across, striving to make out the newcomers, Sturges Owen, sseminator of light and apostle to the Lord, stepped to the edge of the steep andlcommanded his men to bring up Stockard followed him. “Look here,” he demanded, plucking the missionary by the shoulder and twirling him about. “Do you value your hide?” “My life is in the Lord's keeping, and I do but work in his vineyard,” he re- plied, solemnly. ““Oh, stow that! Are you looking for a job of martyrship?” “If he so wills.” ““Well, you'll find it right here, but I'm going to glve you some advice first. Take it or leave It. If you stop here, you'll be cut off in the midst of your labors. And not you alone, but your men, Bill, my wife and myself. Not only do you bring trouble upon yourself, but upon us. I know you for a good man and & fool. If you think it your duty to strive with the heathen, well and good; but do exercise some wit in the way you go about it. This ..an, Red Baptiste, is no Indian. He comes of our common stock, is as bull- necked as I ever dared be, and as wild a fanatic the one way as you are the the camp outfit. L/ </m ) /“’/['/\!/\({{N[l "” r? l“ L %\ other, When you two come together hell ‘1l be to pay, and I don’t care to be mixed up in it. Understand? So take my advice and go away. Take my word for it and get out of here as fast as God ‘Il let you.” “He who carrfes the Lord in his heart and the Gospel in his hand hath no fear of the machinations of man or devil,” the missionary answered sulkily. “I will see this man and wrestle with him. One backsiider returned to the fold is a great- er victory than a thousand heathen. Bring up the little bag with the tea and a kettle of water,” he called the next in- stant to his boatman, “not forgetting the haunch of caribop and the mixing pan.” When his men, converts by his own hand, had galned the bank the trio fell to their knees, hands and backs burdened ‘with camp equipage, and offered up thanks for their passage through the wil- derness and their safe arrival. Hay Stock- ard looked upon the function with sneer- ing disapproval. Baptiste the Red, still gazing across, recognized the familiar postures, and remembered the girl who had shared his star-roofed couch in the hills and forests, and the woman-child who Eay. IIL “Confound it, Baptiste, couldn't-think of it. Not for a moment. Grant that this man is a fool and of small use in the nature of things, but still, you know, I can'y give him up. * Hay Stockard paused, striving to put into speech the rude ethics of his heart. “He’'s worried me, Baptiste, in the past and now, and caused me all manner of troubles; but can't vou see, he's my own breed—and—and—why, 1 couldn’t buy my life with his, not if he was a nigger.” “So be it,” Baptiste the Red made an- swer. “'I have given you grace and choice. 1 shall come presently with my priests and fighting men, and either shall I kil} you or you deny your god. Give up the priest to my pleasure and you shall de- part In peace. Otherwise your trall ends here. Even now have the children stolen away your canoes.” ! He pointed down to the river. Naked boys had slipped down the water from the point above, cast loose the canoes and by then had worked them Into the current. “Give me lhe pries( and you may have them back again.” Stockard shook his head. His glance dropped to the woman of the Teslin coun- try with his boy at her breast, and he would have wavered had he not lifted his eyes to the men before him. “1 am not afrald,” Sturges Owen spoke up. “The Lord bears me In bis right hand, and alone 1 am ready to g0 into’the camp lay somewhere by bleak Hudsons of the unbeliever. It is not too late. Even in the eleventh hour may I win his sou’; to the true righteousness.” “Trip the beggar up and make him fast,” Bill whispered hoarsely in the ear of his leader, while the missionary kept the floor and wrestled with the heathen. ‘“Make him hostage, and bore him if they get ugly.” “No,” Stockard answered, “I gave him my word that he could speak with us un- molested. Rules of warfare, Bill; rules of warfare. He's been on the square, glven us warning, and all that, and—why, damn it, man, I can't break my word!" “He'll keep his, never fear.” “Don’t doubt it, but I won't let a half- breed outdo me in fair dealing. Why not do what he wants—give him the mission- ary and be done with {t?* “N-no;” Bill hesitated doubttully. “Shoe pinches, eh?" Bill flushed a little and dropped the dis- cussion. Baptiste the Red was still wait- fng the final decision. Stockard went up to him. “It's this way, Baptiste. I came to your village mindéd to go up to the Koyokuk. I intended no wrong. My heart was clean of evil.. It is still’clean. Along comes this priest,”as you call him. I didn’t bring him here. He'd have come whether I was here or not. But now that he is here; being of my people, I've got to stand by him. And I'm’ going to. Further, it will be no chlld’s play. When you have done your village will be silent and empty, your people wasted as after a famine. True, we will be gone; like- wise the pick of your fighting men—"" “But those who remain shall be in peace.” ' Both men shrugged their shoulders and turned away, the halfbreed going back to his own camp. The missionary fell into prayer. Stockard and Bill attacked the few remaining pines with their axes, fell- ing them into convenient breastworks. The child had fallen asleep, so the woman placed it on a heap of furs and lent a hand in fortifying the camp. Three sides were thus defended, the steep declivity at the rear precluding attack from that direction. From the opposing camp came the booming of war drums and the voices of the priests stirring the people to anger. ““Worst of it is they'll come in rushes,” Blll complained as they walked back with shouldered axes. 7 “And -wait till midnight, when the light gets dim for shooting.” “Can’t start the ball a-rolling too early, then.” BIill exchanged the ax for a rifle and took a careful rest. One of the medi- cine men, towering above his tribesmen, stood out distinctly. Bill drew a bead on him. “All ready?” he asked. Stockard opened the ammunition box, placed the woman where she could re- load in safety, and gave the word. The medicine man dropped. For a mome there was silence, then a wild howl went up and a flight of bone arrows fell short. “Didn’'t work.” Stockard shook his head gloomily. Bapti had evidently quelled the more warlike of his follow ers, and instead of precipitating an at- tack In the bright light of day the shot had caused a hasty exodus, the Indians drawing out of the village beyond the zone of fire. In the full tide of his proselyting fervor, borne along by the hand of God, Sturges Owen would have ventured alone into the camp of the unbellever, equally prepared for miracle or martyrdom; but in the waiting which ensued the fever of convic- tion died away gradually as the natural man asserted itself. Physical fear re- placed spiritual hope; the love of life, the love of God. It was no hew experience. He could feel his weakness coming on. He bhad struggled against it and been overcome by it before. The recollection was not pleasant. It brought shame to him that his spirit should be so weak and his flesh so strong. But the lové of life! the love of life! He could not strip it from him. His courage, if courage it might be called, was bred' of fanaticism. The courage of Stockard and Bill was the adherence to deep-rooted ideals. Not that the love of life was less, but. the love of ce tradition more; not that they were unafraid to dle, but that they were brave enough not to Uve at thé price of shame. The missionary rose, for:the moment swayed by the mood of sacrifice. He half crawled over the barricade to proceed to the other camp, but sank back, a trem- bling mass, walling. Bill reached over, plucked him to his feet, and shook him, flercely, silently. Then he dropped the bundle of quivering nerves and turned his attention to the two converts. But they showed little fright and a cheerful alacrity in prepar- ing for the coming passage at arms. Stockard, who had been talking in un- dertones with the Teslin woman, now turned to the missionary. “Fetch him over here,” he commanded of Bill. “Now,” he ordered, when Stunges Owen had been duly deposited before him, “make us husband and wife, and be lively about it.”” Then he added apologetically to Bill: “No telling how it's to end, so I just thought I'd get my affalrs straight- ened up.” the boy from the m: aud the kid t if it 1 the purpose, and The shadows dimmed and in n forest life slowly died away the wild fowl in the ver h raucous chatter. Only the tr creased their clamor, war drums boom and voices raised savage folk som Rut as th 1 they ceased their 1 peered o ailed in pain a was inter: th throated song. T robins burst sht had passed A flood of dark figures boiled across the open. Arrows whistled bow thong sang. The shrill-tongued s answered back. A spear and a mighty cast, trans- fixed the Teslin woman as she hovere ving above the child. A spent arrow, ¢ between the logs, lodged in the mission- ary's arm There was no stopping the rush. Sturges Owen fled to the tent, the men were s from their feet, fed beneath the I tide. y ard alone reg the tribesmen as had managed to hand grasped the ch while H') e yelping curs. an ax. A d by a naked foot and drew it from beneath its mother. At arm’'s length its puny body circled through the air, dashing to death against d clove ‘the man to 1€ space. The osed in, the logs. Stoc chin and fell to of savage faces cl him spear thrusts rows. The back and forth Twice, with his ax ed by too deep a blow, they rushed in; but each time he flung them clear. They f under foot, and he trampled dead and dying the way slippery with blood. Then they ack from him in awe and he leaned soul fed Baptiste the Red. “But thou art a man. Deny thy God, and thou shalt liv Stockard swore his r “Behold! A woman!" had been brov jeyond a ser and arrows, leanin ifferent, domital wavering vision. vy of the man who ¢ y to the dark gates of deat Surely Christ, t he, Sturges Owen, had been mo such manner. And not he? t dimly the curse of ancestry, the fe s of spirit which had come down to him out of ‘the past. He had been raised up to serve the Lord only that he might be cast down. H had been given faith without the strength of faith. It was u st. “Where, now, is thy God?" breed demanded. I do not know.” He stood straight and rigid, like a child repeating a catechism. ‘Hast thou, then, a God at all?” 1 had.” nd now?" the hailf- Hay Stockard swept off the blood from his eyes and laughed. The missionary looked at him curiously, as In a dream. In that which had transpired, he had no part. The words of Baptiste came to Bim faintly “Very good. See that this man go free, and that no harm befall him. Let him depart In peace. Give him a canoe and food. Set his face toward the Russians, that he may tell their priests of Baptiste the Red, in whose country there Is no God.” They led him to the edge of the steep, where they paused to witness the final tragedy. The haifbreed turned to Hay Stockaed. “There Is no Go he prompted. The man laughed n reply. One of the young men poised a war spear for the cast. “Hast thou a God?” “Ay, the God of my fathers.' He shifted the ax for a better grip. Baptiste the Red gave the sign, and the spear hurtled full " agaihst his Sturges Owen saw the ivory head stand out beyond his back, saw the man sway, laughing, and snap the shaft short as he fell uoon it. Then he went down the river, that he might carry to the Rus- sians the message of Baptiste the Red, | whose country there was no God. S One day a little 5-year-old boy said to mother: lu'fl\‘lnmm didn’t you say you took Lester the de: t's to get his tooth filled be- z‘:use it ached? Well, my stomach aches. Won't you take me to the candy store and get it filled?”