The Boy Scouts Book of Campfire Stories Part 32

"'Old man, who are you who are so kind to me?'

"I tells him I was John Norton, the trapper.

"'I am John Roberts,' he says, 'and I haven't a friend on the earth, nor do I deserve one. Old man, you cannot understand, because you have lived an innocent life, but I am a sinner--a wretched sinner. And my moments here are numbered. I will tell you of my crimes; I will confess them, for they lie heavy on my heart.

"'John Norton, I was a miser; I had a heart with a pa.s.sion for gold. For the evil love of money I turned my face away from my kind. My wife I deserted. My only child I refused, with curses, to see, even when she sent for me as she lay dying. John Norton, I gave all for gold. And the more I loved it, the more I hated man. With my dreadful l.u.s.t there grew suspicion of every one. All ties of affection were severed. I lived alone, h.o.a.rding my gold and gloating over it.

"'At last I fled from the habitations of men, bringing my gold, my G.o.d, with me in a Keg. Here on this lonely sh.o.r.e I thought to be happy, far from my own kind, far from any danger that my precious treasure be stolen. But, John Norton--and a dying man is speaking--for all my counting of the bright gold on the sands here, and my dancing about it as a devil might, laughing and singing--I was unhappy. I knew that G.o.d was watching me and was disapproving. I could not but think of my wife and child. The thought of them began to make the gold hateful to me. Ah, then, old man, I began to pray the Lord to deliver me! It was a bitter struggle I fought, but at length He rescued me. He gave me strength, John Norton, to overcome the Wicked One; He gave me strength to break away from my sin; He gave me strength last night to pour every piece of gold that had been for me both love and life, into the lake there. I shall never see it more, and I am happy.'

"After that, he lay silent-like, looking up at the blue sky. Then his eyes closed, and I thought him sleeping. But suddenly he started up, 'A light, a light! I see a light!' Then, Henry, he sank back into my arms and spoke no more. I hope my pa.s.sing may be as peaceful as his, and my face as calm as was his after his battle of life was over.

"The next day I buried him up yonder under them hemlocks--having no one to help me, but doing it respectful-like, as all such should be done.

There he lies, Henry, the man who was the owner of that Keg--John Roberts--the miser who repented before it was too late. Nor do I doubt,"

he added, in his kindly tone, "but he's been forgiven by those he wronged."