The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 21, 1904, Page 15

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL whose voice I've the s from be rilled him. *“T am a " he tjought. “The ded me t' goa n’ all people.” know that the wilderness and of the sullen sea, which are past understand- ing, had undone old Ishmael Roth. T while the hecaler from Far- Cove e down the coast, ng_strange cu Harbor w ged e 4 AT 0L THIES 1L PORTLZ VTR 775 QLD BOOA tion the er to heal. was into the punt and ! Push off!” said Ezra. through the narrows to re a gray light was spread- r the wawv “Drive her, b'y! ri* d Ezra. Driven she was e punt. What you an drag,” said young en his teeth. But »wing hand on her sheet all that; and in a few o Fortune Harbor, wave at her heels, loggy ater and dripping wet cove at wee white one on the hill, under the bluf said Ezra. “Iss,” sald Jimmie, the cro at the door. “The one *with 'Tis where the met Thomas Bow on the path 1l. Ezra was resting—to catch Thom- up the his breath and quiet his heart, as was downcast and bewildered, “Is you come t' be healed, Ezra?” he said. ‘Iss, b’y. Sure, I've come t’ touch the child. But I'll touch un easy, Thomas —just as easy as I'm able.” “Will you, now?” said Thomas, run- ning his hand through his frowsy hair, ) ~—— ~ in a vacant Sure I wouldn't > wee thing.” s 'twill do you any puzzled as, with a ious glance into cures worked hed his head. Ezrz ead,” said T said homas. * he cried, Thomas, with a sigh. been grand t' have the of a s h son t' fish punt with me. 'Tis a ched the mist break and ight spread over the ses goa hoame, b’ ' Ezra wi of for his vo “I'm think ,”" he went on, with a fine that the Lord wants we in he n. Leave us goa hoame.’ They went down the path very slowly . . . . . . . Meanwhile the healer from Far-Away = had come down the coast, pass- ing from harbor to harbor in a rotten, ragged old punt, everywhere applying s which, as he believed, tha Lord ed to him in dreams, “I am a healer by command o' the helpe “Is you, now?” said they. mand the Lard! My, wonderful thing!” In the evening of the day when the seventh son of a seventh son had died, Jimmie Lute made Ragged Harbor from Fortune, with Ezra Westerly lying exhausted in the bow of the punt. The west was flaring red—the wind had fallen away—all the earth was quiet—the punt slipped over long, soft billows. Ishmael Roth sounded the Pillar just as Jimmie passed the Staff; the punts crept side by side down the narrows to the still water of the harbor, where it lay at the feet of the grim hills, all crimsoned by the sun. “Is there any place where a man can be taken in for a bit?” Ishmael called. “Ay,” sald Ezra, lifting himself on his arm. “They’s always a place t’ Ragged Ha'bor where an honest man can bide.” Ishmael brought his punt alongside and caught hold of the other’s gun- “By com- but ‘tis a o wale. He saw the pallor and hollow- of Ezr: face and heard the rat- n his throat. “You is sick. man,” he said. *“You erate sick.’ ‘I'm tuk with the decline, zur,” said ra. The need of healing, th® sp , made Ishmael's great heart ed if the Lerd would a cure for this man. “You has a wife, I'm thinkin'?” he sald. “And a wee babe,” Ezra wered, smiling. 4 the Lard will oanly let me,” said Ishmael, looking far off T'll cure you.” So Ishmael was given a place in the home of Ezra Weste ght after night he waited for the to make known the cure in a dream. By day he fished for Ezra from Ezra's punt—go- ing regularly at dawn to the grounds off Mad Bull, and returning with hi catch in the evening; taking Eazra turn in the bait-skiff when the caplin schools came in; splitting cod far into t if the fish w r ng thick; spreading the catcn rv on the ke when the Mad Bu allows were deserted. At odd times he poured over the old book, lest the Lord should think him lukewarm in his search f the cure. ead that sec- tion rel ‘medicines made out of i g things''—read and puzzled till his head was aching and muddled. “I am of opinion,” sald the book, “that the Suet of a Goat mixed with a little Saffron is excellent an oyntment, especially for pains, as any is.” Then, “The Froath of the fea, it is hot and a Being mixed with abs’ shells,- it helps chills. baldnefg, and trimly decks the head with hair.” Agam, “The Bone that is found in the Heart of a Stag is as fovereign a Cordial and as great a ftrengthener of the Heart as any is, being beaten into Powder.”” Thus on and on—pouring over the list of strange cures. “The heart of a stag,” he thought, putting his hand to his brow. “Now they’s a deal in that, I'm thinkin’.” He fell asleep over the table at last with his head on the old book. . . . . . powdered it helps . . Ishmael brought the punt in from the grounds early next day. Ezra was sitting in the sunshine by the cottage door. “Ishmael,” said Ezra, “has you—has you had the dream?” Hope grew strong in his face. Then his lips quivered and he turned his eyes away, fearing new disappoint- ment. “Ay,” sald Ishmael, “the dream has come,” sure cure, man? Tell is the heart of a bull—the heart of a black bull with a white face,” said Ishmael ure I knows noa bull like that, but they must be one some- where, else the Lard wouldn't 'a’ told me They 18, E 1 whispered in awe. “'Tis- Jacob Swift's bull t° Round Irland. I knows un well. 'Tis a black bull with a white fa “I knowed they was said Ishmael quictly. “Well, b'y,” he went on, “you takes the heart from a live black bull with g ywhite face. Then you b'iles un for two- dz done a sa ¥s in a black pot. Which vou smokes un an’ dries un like om. ' Then you grinds un to n reg'lar in goat's for the decline— E i it must be Jacob ft's bull. a wonderful white that ons!” queer, face Ishmael “what things the Lard keeps track of. 3 queer, ncw, that he kn d they A white-faced bull hereabout—'tis mused, vas wohderful queer “I wonder what Jacob Swift'll ckin’ for the he of his bull?” Twill be so much, I'm thinkin’,” said Ishmael, “as the whole bull's Ay G “Ay, he's a mean man.” “I've some silver,” said Ishmael, “which would be a part o’ the price.” I've a punt an’ two salmon nets,” said Ezra. *'Tis like I can sell un for something. “Ezra,” said the wife Mary, coming through the door, “I've heered you talkin’.' Man,” she said, laylng her clasped hands on her bosom, “but I'm— I'm—happy! I've the garden, b'y, an’ Noa, noa, woma said Ezra. “I'll rot have you lose a thing your fawther give you. I'll not do it.” “But, b'y,” gaid she, “when.you gets well "twill.be easy t’ get un back.” “Ay,” said Ezra softly, ‘“tis true. When I gets well, Mary, I'll buy un back. I'll buy you two gardens, dear, when I gets t’ the fishin® agin.” “Ah, Ezra,” she said, “but 'twill be fine t' have you strong agin. My, but ‘twill!” “You is a lovin' wife, Mary,” he an- swered; and he added, solemnly, “an’ I'll be a lovin’ man t’ you.” “Blessed be the name o’ the Lard,” sald Ishmael, known the cure!” Jimmie Lute was dispatched to Round Island with the healer from Far- Away Cove to buy the heart of the black bull with the white face. When Jacob Swift, who owned the bull, per- be “because He has made. ed the urgency of their bu all that they had: Lard God Almighty keeps my bull, 'tis a gran’ fine bull; an’ if the Lard sets such a stor by the heart o' the beast, 'twould be noa moare’ ectful for me t’ put a good price on it."” But what cared Ezra? What cared T cared healer?* What What cared they all ed Jimmie L hen they had the queer, black wder safe in the jar? It v a har wonderful hour, in- deed, when the cure w egun hard t' think it. Ay,” ‘““’'tis hard t believe.” Mary was ¢ k to mark his haustion——his dull stare, the v, he answered you t' help me up. But : night come three wee he went on, looking up to her with a sm “I'll be splittin’ fish—me own Mary, me own catch “'Tis gran’ t' thi There ¢ a nig! a gale drivin windows of cat k it,'”” said she. t in the fall, with rain against little room wher ne the the Ezra lay, when the man knew that his hope had been mistaken. Great ts of wind. breaking from the sea, where they had swirled and leaped all n opposed, - shook t house as t swished past to lash the inland w ness. In the int rushing noises f wag filled with the dee), of the breakers. Ezra cc lift his voice above it all “'Tis a barb'rous bad night,” said he. The old: healer from Far-Away Cove sighed. His head had fallen over his breast. He had no heart to look up. “Ah, Ishmael,” said Ezra, a rush of pity for the broken man making his voice quiver and his gray lips trem- ble, “you’ll not be grievin’ no moare because the cure failed. 'Twas all a mistake, man—'twas but a mistake.” “Ay,” said Mary, “he've done what he could.” Ishmael looked up. His face was allow and haggard. He drew his hand over his eyes in a dull, helpless way, “I've. been thinkin',” he whispered, “that I'm nothing but a misled man.” “Noa, noa,” said Ezra. “The Lord leads you, Ishmael.” “I'm thinkin’,” the healer went on, the =4 ighty roar 11d hardly his face contorted by agony, “tHit I've misto ca Tis like the Lard never meant aler.” “Sure He fary, They's nar a doubt They were silent—all cast down in bitterness and despa while the rain rattled on the window panes and & burst of wind beat furiously upon the house. el e € sald Ezra at ir best.” said the healer, “I done my last, “you st—surely said Ezra, surely the Lard He done His ael. ‘‘Blessed be the e’'s noa call t' grieve, Ishmae! noa call at all.” id Eazra, “that they The Lard would make ael; but the noa shmael,” sa a, ‘“’twas the heart of a live bull the Lard told us t' take.” “Ay, a live bull.” imael, is u sure the bull when you cut the heart that might have burned iIn prophets’ eyes, shone again in Ish- ael's. “O L 4, he cried, lifting up his face, for his faith had been restored, “great is thy power and marvelous are to the north. “The L has not failed me,” he said to the pe ple. failed him. I'll be pre- parin’ yself further—makin’ ready for th’ wark, agin’ the real time when I'm called t' do i{t” He went back to that far-off desolation, where, in the dawn and in the dusk, he might listen again for the Voice In the hiss of breaking w H place where, in of the breake word spoken. He from habited coast to the lor bleak rocks Lord might cr in the dri evening, when the upon great is, Lord, and for angels ascending : is written. There he waited for the And there he 1a wil T toh the silence ; gal Again, in the ush and flare were he looked for the nging hosts of