The Angel of the Gila Part 33

When Murillo's "Holy Family" appeared, there was a hush. As it disappeared, some one asked for it again. After complying with this request, the candles were relighted, and the distribution of gifts began. There was a subdued hum of interest. These men and women, throwing aside care and toil for an hour, were as pleased as children.

As gifts were pa.s.sed, many began to realize what the extra meetings at the schoolhouse had meant. The children had been making things, and had made them well. They had been engaged in manual training, though the teacher had not called it that. She was in advance of the age, and was doing practical work in manual training years before the pedagogues of the land had wakened to the necessity of training the hand.

The Gila children had made gingham ap.r.o.ns for mothers and sisters; they had crocheted lace and mats; they had made articles for domestic use, and so on.

When a new blouse waist and a pair of suspenders were given to Wathemah, his delight knew no bounds. Kenneth and Jack Harding stood watching him. The child was a favorite with both.

"Do you like your waist, little chap?" asked Kenneth.

"Yes!--Me!--Pretty!" said the child, patting and smoothing his waist as if it were an object of affection. Then he held his suspenders up for his two friends to see.

"Do you like 'em, sonny?" asked Jack Harding.

"Mine! Mine!--S'penders!--Wathemah's s'penders!"

The grown-ups smiled. The day had unlocked many a heart long barred and bolted against human sympathy.

"Two dolls, one for Nora and one for Kathleen Murphy," called out the superintendent.

"Did yez iver?" said Patrick, smiling with good humor, from the crown of his bristly head to the extremity of his bristly chin.

Gifts were pa.s.sed to right and left. It seemed wonderful so many should be remembered. Some received their gifts with undisguised pleasure,--pleasure so out of proportion to the intrinsic value of the gifts, it was pathetic. Esther felt her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g. More than one said to her that night that it was the first time he or she had ever received a Christmas present.

As yet Brigham had received no gifts, but he sat by Wathemah, apparently enjoying what his friend had received as though it had been his own. But when his turn came, and his Beloved brought him three books about animals, he seemed embarra.s.sed, and stammered out:

"For me? All thim for me?"

The teacher stood smiling.

"Yes, for you, dear."

In a short time he and Wathemah, with heads close together, were lost in one of these books.

Esther watched them from time to time. It was evident to every one in Gila, that Brigham and Wathemah were very intimate friends of their teacher's. Brigham had confided to Kenneth that he was "intimater with her nor anybody else, 'cause she loved him, an' he loved her best of anybody in the world." He had likewise confided to Kenneth his great desire to have some animal books, as he called them. And Kenneth had seen to it that he should not be disappointed.

Suddenly, to her surprise, Esther Bright was presented with a new chair, and was asked to be seated in it. The excitement of the children rose. This, to them, was the important moment of the evening.

As one homely little gift after another was presented to her,--all the work of children's hands, she spoke homely, loving words out of her heart. Several coat sleeves were put to a new use, and some clean gingham ap.r.o.ns actually found their way to women's cheeks. A loving-hearted woman had entered their lives and found them worth while. What wonder that she became to them, more than ever, what they had called her at first in ridicule, but later in respect and affection and reverence,--the angel of the Gila?

When Esther Bright's lap was full of gifts, she tried to express what she felt. Her words had vanished, and happy tears had taken their place.

After her unsuccessful effort to speak, Wathemah, who could hardly comprehend her tears, ran to her, and began to wipe them away with a sleeve of his new waist. She slipped her arm about him and drew him to her. He looked up questioningly.

"It's all right, Wathemah," she said, smiling. "I was so happy I couldn't help crying."

"Now," said the superintendent, "you are each to receive from Miss Bright a Bible, a box of candy and a Christmas card; and from Mrs.

Carmichael, some delicious Christmas cookies. Here, boys," he said, beckoning to some of them, "pa.s.s these, will you?"

Esther Bright herself took a large panful of cookies to the people outside of the schoolhouse. As she approached a Mexican, she saw standing by him his wife, a blanket Indian, and on her back, a pappoose. As she pa.s.sed the cakes to them, the squaw reached down and grabbed two handfuls of them, devouring them ravenously.

Esther patted the child, and smiled into the squaw's face, which she could see distinctly in the light that streamed from the window.

"Pappoose?" she said to the Indian.

But there was no answering smile in the squaw's eyes. The "emptiness of ages" was in her face. It was a face Esther was to see again under very different circ.u.mstances; but no premonition warned her of the fiery ordeal through which she would be called to pa.s.s.

Finally the mult.i.tude was fed. The boisterous laughter and the loud talk, within, seemed strangely out of harmony with the solemn stillness of the night. The moon sent a flood of silvery light over the scene before her; and, everywhere, the Christmas fires, built by the Mexicans, were leaping skyward. Esther stood watching; for on far away mountains and near by foothills, the sentinels of the desert had become gigantic burning crosses. She had heard that these were to be a unique feature of the Christmas celebration, but she was not prepared for the exceeding beauty of it all. The burning cross caught her fancy. Suddenly, she became aware of the presence of Kenneth Hastings.

"Wonderfully beautiful,--the scene,--isn't it?" she said, without turning. "I think I have never seen anything more impressive."

"Yes, beautiful. These Catholic Mexicans have a religious feeling that finds expression in splendor. Does the burning cross have any significance to you?"

"Yes," she answered, speaking slowly, as she looked toward one of them; "the cross, once a symbol of ignominy; but now become, like the flaming cross on the mountains, a symbol of light."

"Miss Bright," said John Clayton, from the doorway, "you are asked for."

As she entered the room, Patrick Murphy stepped forward. He raised his hand for attention. After several gibes from the men, and witty retorts on his part, the company quieted down again.

"Ladies an' gintlemin," he said, flourishing his empty pipe, as he made an elaborate gesture, "it's mesilf as feels as we have wid us a foine Christian lady. Ez Oi watched the picters av the Holy Mither this avenin', Oi sez ter mesilf, sez Oi, our teacher (the saints bliss her!) is as lovin' ter the children av this school, as is the blissid Virgin ter the child in thim picters. Oi sez ter mesilf, this lady is as good a Catholic as Oi wish ter see. An' she learns 'em all ter git on. Oi'll sind ivery child o' mine ter day school an' Bible school. Oi hope yez'll all do the same."

Mrs. Murphy's face was a suppressed thunder-storm; but Patrick was oblivious of this as he talked on.

"This was a G.o.dless region. Miss Bright come like a angel ter tell us av our sins. Oi belave the Lord sint her.

"See what she done fur us! Her nate little talk ter us, the picters an' her prisints. All who wish ter thank our koind frind, join wid me in three cheers fur Miss Bright!"

Then cheer on cheer rose from the people.

As Patrick took his seat, John Clayton rose.

"Now," said he, "three cheers for our good friend, Mrs. Carmichael, who made the Christmas cookies."

Again the hearty cheers echoed on the still night air.

But Mrs. Carmichael raised a protesting hand. She didn't deserve such a compliment, she said.

Then the guests went their various ways. John Harding covered the embers of the fire and took from his teacher's hands whatever she had to carry, going directly to the Clayton home. She and Kenneth Hastings were the last to leave. Outside the door, they stood for a moment, watching the moonlit scene. In the distance, they heard a man's rich voice singing, "In the Cross of Christ I glory." They listened. Then they walked on in silence for some moments, the gaze of each fixed upon a colossal burning cross through whose yellow flames violet, and green, and red, and blue leaped and died away, then leaped again.

"The cross!" he said at last. "How it has gone in the van of civilization!"

She stopped and laid her hand on his arm. He, too, stopped and looked questioningly into her lifted face, which he could see but dimly.

"The world for Christ!" she said, deeply moved. "It will surely be!

Followers of the wonderful Nazarene, filled and actuated by His spirit of brotherhood, are reaching the uttermost parts of the earth. We shall live to see the awakening of nations. We shall live to see strong men and women enlisted on the side of Christ to bring right and justice and purity into life, G.o.d into men's lives."

Again silence.

"I know nothing of G.o.d," he responded, "save as I see power manifested in the physical world. I have read the Bible so little. I am not intimately familiar with the life and words of Jesus. Before meeting you, I had always thought of religion with more or less contempt. I confess my ignorance. But I am learning to know _you_. What you are and what you do convince me there is something in your religion I have not found. I am as untaught in spiritual truth as a babe. But now I want to learn."