The Unknown Wrestler Part 6

"I wish to learn what is wrong with the parish of Rixton," was the reply. "I want to get down to bedrock, so to speak, and find out just what is the trouble."

"But how will your going as a farm-hand help you?"

"I shall have a better chance to see things in their true light. If I go as a clergyman, people will naturally be somewhat suspicious of me, and will say things behind my back which they will not say to my face.

But John Handyman will be of little account in their estimation, and they will express their views in his presence freely and openly."

"Does it not seem like taking a mean advantage of them?" Garton queried.

"I can't see it that way. I wish to diagnose that parish and find out what is the trouble. There is a serious disease of some kind there, and unless I know what it is before taking charge I may make all kinds of mistakes, and thus render the work much more difficult. If, in this way, I can accomplish my object and do good to the people of Rixton, I cannot see how I shall be taking a mean advantage of them. If the fault has been with the clergymen who have been there, I want to know it; but if the people are to blame, I want to know that as well."

"I see you believe in understanding the people among whom you work,"

Garton remarked.

"Certainly. It seems to me that too many of our clergy do not understand their parishioners, especially so in country districts. It was not always so, but changes have taken place in recent years. How well I remember my old rector, the one whose life I so revere, and princ.i.p.ally through whose influence my mind was first turned toward the Ministry. He was a saint, if ever there was one, and he looked well after his flock. He knew his people intimately, not merely officially, but in a sympathetic and loving way. He knew them all by name, even to the smallest child. Their concerns were his, and he entered into their joys and sorrows as one of them, and not as a mere outsider. Why, it was wonderful how much he knew about farming, stock-raising, and such like. He could talk as intelligently to the men about their farms as he could to the women about their children. He was one of them; he loved them and they knew it."

Douglas' eyes shone as he thus bore testimony to the worth of his old rector, and when he suddenly ceased he sat gazing straight before him as if he beheld a vision.

"Is he living yet?" Garton asked.

"No, he died years ago, when I was about seventeen."

"He must have been a remarkable man."

"He certainly was, and his was the model parish in the whole diocese."

"Is it the same now?"

An angry light suddenly leaped into Douglas' eyes, as he turned them upon his companion's face.

"No, it is not the same," he slowly replied. "The parish has gone to pieces, and the changes which have taken place there make my heart ache."

"Why, what has been the cause?" Garton enquired.

"It is due to the men who were sent there after the death of my old rector. The first man who went had no patience with the people in their loyalty to his predecessor, and he could not bear to hear them tell of the work which had been done in the past. He became jealous, said sharp things, and turned the people against him. The next man took no interest in the things which concern an agricultural people.

He openly said that he hated farming, and that he was only staying in the parish until he could get a better one. He moved on after he had driven a number of members from the Church. The third was not satisfied with the services, so he introduced many things which were distasteful to the people, especially the older members. He is there yet, but there is a sad division in the parish, and he has only a very small following. Those three men could not understand the people among whom they worked. I do not want to make the same mistake at Rixton, and so I am going to spy out the land."

"Oh, you'll make out all right," Garton replied, as he laid the b.u.t.t of his cigar carefully on the ash-tray. "You'll have no trouble. Get on the good side of Stubbles, and he'll see you through. You can't afford to lose the support of such a man as that, who has so great an influence in Rixton. Anyway, if you need help, bank on me. I am always at your service. I'll bring my whole battalion to your a.s.sistance. Just send for Col. Garton of the 65th, and he'll be there with his men in no time. But, say, there's Kit at the piano; let's go and have one more good sing together, and forget all about disagreeable Church matters for the present."

CHAPTER V

PUT TO THE TEST

There was a special reason why Douglas Stanton walked slowly along the road leading from the railway station through the parish of Rixton. It was a warm, beautiful evening, and the magnificent scenery so appealed to him that he had not the heart to hurry. How good it was to be away from the noise and dust of the city! Here he could breathe the pure, fresh air, listen to the music of the birds, and rest his eyes upon meadows, flowers and trees. He felt at home, and the spirit of childhood days possessed him. He longed to wade in every brook he saw, and roll in the gra.s.s by the side of the road.

He had walked about five miles and was somewhat tired, as he was carrying a large bag over his shoulder, and his precious violin case under his arm. He was no longer dressed in his clerical garb, but was plain John Handyman in rough work-a-day clothes. He enquired the way from several people he met, and these had looked with curiosity upon the bag and box he was carrying.

"Huntin' for work, eh?" the last man he had accosted asked. "Well, Jake Jukes wants a man in the worst way. Heard him say so last night.

He lives about half a mile further on. Ye can't mistake the place, for it's just across the road from the rectory."

"How will I know the rectory when I come to it?" Douglas enquired.

"Oh, ye can't mistake it very well. It is a big house with shutters on the windows, and tall gra.s.s all around. It's been closed up for about a year now."

This was just the information Douglas needed, and thanking the man, he moved on his way. Presently, the road dipped into a wooded valley, and part way down the hill, Douglas espied a large barrel overflowing with clear, sparkling water. Stopping, he opened his bag and drew forth a small tin cup. This he filled with water, and then withdrew a short distance among the trees and sat down upon the mossy ground. Mrs.

Garton had thoughtfully provided him with a generous lunch, and this he now opened and spread out before him. He was hungry, so the sandwiches and cold meat seemed the best he had ever tasted. There was a piece of pie, as well as cake, for dessert, and what more could a king desire?

he asked himself. How delightful it was to lie there and rest in such a quiet place. He was free to come and go as he wished, and not shackled by any rules of conventional life. The whole country was his to wander at will. Why should he not do it? He had only himself to care for, and his strong arms could provide the simple necessities of daily life. Why spend his time in the service of others, when his efforts were either misunderstood or not appreciated? He was tired of being dictated to, and told what to do. He was just as able to look after his own affairs as the Bishop and Dr. Rannage. They did not care a snap for him, neither did the Church, for that matter. He was but a fly on one of the wheels of the great ecclesiastical machine, and counted for nothing.

Such thoughts appealed to Douglas more than ever before, and he meditated upon them as he once more continued on his way. He had been trained to look with suspicion upon people who held such views, but now he realised how attractive they were, and worthy of more careful consideration. Life, after all, was not summed up in the books he had studied, nor in the knowledge he had acquired while at college. No, there was the great pulsing world all around him, and why should he go through it fettered in soul, mind and body?

Thinking thus, he came to the rectory. The gate leading into the yard was closed. This he pushed open, entered, and walked around the house.

Signs of neglect and decay were most apparent. The building had not been painted for years, and the shingles on the roof were in a bad condition. Gra.s.s and weeds ran riot right up to the very windows. He tried both the front and back doors but they were fastened.

Amidst this scene of desolation, Douglas stood and looked out over the land connected with the rectory. There were several acres, sloping gently to the river about two hundred yards away. Trees lined the sh.o.r.e, and his attention was especially attracted to one large elm which towered gracefully above its fellows. Only a small part of the land surrounding the rectory had been cultivated. The rest, which had been used for pasturage, was covered with small bushes. Several apple trees stood back of the house, but these had not been trimmed for years, and the bark and moss were thick upon their trunks. "My, how I would like to get to work upon this place," Douglas thought, as he moved over toward the small orchard. "They seem to be good trees, and when once well sc.r.a.ped and their tops thinned out, they should bear well. Why, a man with some knowledge of farming could make a comfortable living in a few years on such a place as this."

Near the orchard was a barn, with the two big doors off their hinges, having been injured evidently by the wind. There was nothing in the barn except a pile of old hay lying upon the floor. "That looks good to me," Douglas mused. "I shall have a soft bed to-night, anyway. It is getting dark, and I might as well stay here as anywhere. I wonder what the people of this parish would say if they knew that their future clergyman is occupying the rectory barn. He might have a worse place, though, and perhaps he may before he is through."

Douglas was tired and slept soundly. The night was warm, and his coat was all the covering he needed. It seemed to him that he had been sleeping but a short time when he was awakened by a strange and yet familiar noise. Opening his eyes, he could not for a moment imagine where he was. Before him, and just outside the door, a herd of cattle was trooping past. They were much startled to see a man lying in the barn, and several of them had given vent to coa.r.s.e bellows as they stood staring in upon him. Presently he heard a man's voice shouting to the cattle to "git along out of that. What's the matter with ye, anyway?" Then a stick was hurled at them, which caused them to scamper away. Soon the man appeared, and when he saw what had caused the commotion among the cattle, he, too, stood and stared in amazement for a few seconds. Then he took several steps forward, and held up the stout stick he was carrying in his hand.

"Hi, what are ye doin' there?" he demanded.

"Haven't you eyes to see for yourself?" Douglas asked in reply.

"But don't ye know that this is private property?"

"That's just the reason I'm here. It's so very private that it suits me fine."

"You have no business sleepin' in this barn."

"I'm not sleeping. I am as wide awake as you are. Do you own this place?"

"No, but I have charge of it. It's Church property, and as I live jist across the road I have been asked to keep an eye over it an' put all intruders off."

Douglas liked the appearance of this fellow, notwithstanding his pugnacious manner. He had an honest face, and bright blue eyes, in whose depths lurked a merry twinkle. He took it for granted that this was Jake Jukes who wanted a farm hand.

"Come and put me off, then," Douglas quietly remarked, as he rose slowly to his feet. "I am anxious for a little excitement. It will give me an appet.i.te for my breakfast."

"Where are you goin' to git it?" the farmer asked.

"At your place."

"At my place!"

"Certainly. You are Jake Jukes, are you not? You want a man to help with your haying, and I am going to stay."

"Great punkins! How d'ye know who I am?" and Jake looked his astonishment.