The Unknown Wrestler Part 9

CHAPTER VII

MENDING THINGS

Weary though he was, Douglas found it difficult to get to sleep. He thought over the various events of the day, and was not altogether dissatisfied with the results. He had made a beginning, anyway, and he hoped that events would so shape themselves that he might soon be able to get to the heart of the Church trouble, whatever it might be. He had not yet spoken to Jake about the matter, thinking it best to wait for a day or two, or until a favourable opportunity should occur.

Then the music he had heard down by the river kept running through his mind, and, try as he might, he could not silence the sound. He saw again that slight, graceful figure standing near the tree, drawing the bow skilfully across the strings of the violin. Where had she learned to play in such a manner? he asked himself. He was surprised that Rixton could produce such a musician. Was she engaged to that young man? he wondered, and, if so, what was the cause of her strange behaviour when they met? It was late when he at last fell asleep, and he dreamed of a herd of wild cattle chasing a beautiful woman through a big field, while he and Jake were unable to go to her a.s.sistance.

When he awoke in the morning the rain was pelting down upon the roof overhead. The sound filled him with a sense of deep satisfaction and brought back childhood days when he had listened to the same music in the little room in his old home. He was glad that it was raining, as he was feeling sore after yesterday's work, and he longed for a little rest from the labour of the hay field. Early though it was, Jake was already astir. He heard him making the fire in the kitchen stove, then the rattle of milk pails, and the bang of the door as he left for the barn. Douglas tumbled out of bed, dressed, and in a few minutes was at the stable.

"What! You here?" Jake asked in surprise, as he paused in the act of picking up a milking-stool.

"Certainly, and why not?" Douglas replied.

"Oh, I didn't expect ye to be up so early, that's all. All the hired men I've ever had waited to be called."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Thought I'd let ye sleep, as ye had a hard day of it yesterday. And, besides, it's rainin', so we can't do much to-day."

"Rain or no rain, tired or not tired, I am going to do my share while I'm here," Douglas quietly remarked, as he picked up a pail and a stool. "I don't want you to favour me in the least, though I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

After breakfast, Jake and Douglas went out into the woodhouse to grind a scythe and a cutter-bar.

"We might as well git them done while it's rainin'," Jake had said, "an' there's nuthin' else we kin do this mornin'."

Douglas turned the stone while Jake did the grinding. He was not new to the job, as he had often done it as a boy. Then, it had been a wearisome task, and it seemed to him that the hired man always pressed as hard as he could upon the stone. But now he enjoyed the task, as it was a change from the pitching of hay.

"Have you many near neighbours?" he presently asked.

"Yes, a few," was the reply. "Sandy Barker lives below me, and Caleb t.i.tus jist above. Of course, there's the corner with a whole bunch of houses. It's pretty well settled all along the river."

"Has Caleb t.i.tus much of a family?"

"Naw. Jist himself an' one daughter, Polly."

"Has he a large farm?"

"Not overly large; though he doesn't attend to it. He works in the woods in the winter time, an' scratches the ground a little in the spring, an' tries to raise something, though he doesn't succeed very well. He sold a piece off the front of his place a few years ago to old Andy Strong, an' got a good price for it, so I heard."

"Who is this man Strong?" Douglas enquired.

Jake lifted the scythe from the stone and felt its edge very carefully with his thumb before answering. He seemed to be pondering something, and a peculiar smile lurked about the corners of his mouth.

"I can't jist tell ye who he is," he eventually replied. "He came off an' on to Rixton for several years until at last he settled down here for good with his daughters."

"How many has he?"

"Two; Nell an' Nan. My, they're beauties, an' the young fellers in the whole parish are about crazy over them, especially Nell. She's a wonder, an' looks after everything, the old man included."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, he's blind as a bat, an' as queer a critter as ye ever sot eyes on."

"In what way?"

"Well, he's an unbeliever, an' has a great deal to say about churches, 'ligion, an' parsons. He's down on 'em all. The young fellers hereabouts git him to talk to them, an' make believe they are mighty interested in his views. That is only their excuse fer visitin' the place, so's they kin meet Nell an' Nan. Ho, ho! it's a great joke.

The old boy thinks they're listenin' to him, but they don't remember a word he says."

"Do his daughters favour any of them?"

"Not as fer as I know. They are mighty sensible girls, an' put up with the young fellers comin' to their place because it pleases their dad.

He likes to express his views, an' they know it."

"Why is Mr. Strong so much down on churches, religion and parsons?"

Douglas asked.

"I can't tell ye that. He's got a grouch of some kind, though I never heard him say what it is."

"Did he ever go to church?"

"Not him, though I've seen his daughters there. Nell has played the organ at times, fer she's mighty musical. My, ye should hear her play the fiddle! She makes it fairly talk."

"Where did she learn to play so well?"

"From her dad. He was a perfessor, or something like that years ago, though his playin' is pretty shaky now."

Douglas asked no more questions just then, but went on with his work, and meditated upon what he had heard. Perhaps this old man Strong was really the cause of much of the Church trouble in the parish. Jake might be wrong in his opinion about the young men, and they may have been greatly influenced by the words of the blind professor. He longed to see Strong that he might hear what he had to say, and at the same time to meet his daughters. How he was going to do this, he had not the least idea, though he somehow felt that he would have to wrestle with the unbeliever if he intended to make any headway in Rixton. He had won his first step in the parish as a wrestler, but to contend against firmly rooted opinions was a far more difficult undertaking.

It would be all the harder if he should find Strong a stubborn, narrow-minded person, unreasonable, and firmly-settled in his views.

When dinner was over, Jake asked Douglas if he would go to the shoe-maker's for him.

"Two of the traces broke on me the other day," he explained, "an' I haven't had time to git them fixed. Ye'll find Joe Benton's place jist beyond the store."

"Shall I wait until they are mended?" Douglas asked.

"Yes, if ye want to, an' if Joe's able to do them to-day. I think he'll do 'em all right, providin' he doesn't git side-tracked on his hobby."

"What's that?"

"It's 'ligion, that's what 'tis. He's great on the Bible an' Church history. He holds service every Sunday in his house, since we've had no parson."

"Do many attend?"

"Naw. Jist him an' his wife, I guess. But Joe's a good, honest feller, an' ye'll like him. But fer pity's sake, keep him off of 'ligion, if ye expect bring them traces back with ye to-day."

Douglas had no trouble in locating the shoe-maker's shop, where he found Joe Benton busy half-soleing a pair of men's boots. He was a man past sixty, grey-haired, and with a smooth-shaven face. His eyes were what arrested Douglas' attention. They were honest eyes, which looked clear and straight into his. There the old man's soul seemed to be shining forth, so expressive were they. Douglas thought he could read in those clear depths an unattainable longing, mingled with an appealing pathos. When he smiled, his whole face was lighted with a remarkable glory, and he appeared no longer a humble shoe-maker, but an uncrowned king. His rude bench was his throne, and the humble shop his royal palace. So it appeared to Douglas, and he wondered if others were affected in the same way.

"Are you Jake June's hired man, the wrestler?" the shoe-maker asked, after Douglas had told him the purpose of his visit.