black rock-第1章

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Black　Rock

A　TALE　OF　THE　SELKIRKS

by　Ralph　Connor






INTRODUCTION


I　think　I　have　met　〃Ralph　Conner。〃　　Indeed；　I　am　sure　I　haveonce
in　a　canoe　on　the　Red　River；　once　on　the　Assinaboine；　and　twice　or
thrice　on　the　prairies　to　the　West。　　That　was　not　the　name　he　gave
me；　but；　if　I　am　right；　it　covers　one　of　the　most　honest　and　genial
of　the　strong　characters　that　are　fighting　the　devil　and　doing　good
work　for　men　all　over　the　world。　　He　has　seen　with　his　own　eyes　the
life　which　he　describes　in　this　book；　and　has　himself；　for　some
years　of　hard　and　lonely　toil；　assisted　in　the　good　influences　which
he　traces　among　its　wild　and　often　hopeless　conditions。　　He　writes
with　the　freshness　and　accuracy　of　an　eye…witness；　with　the　style
（as　I　think　his　readers　will　allow）　of　a　real　artist；　and　with　the
tenderness　and　hopefulness　of　a　man　not　only　of　faith　but　of
experience；　who　has　seen　in　fulfillment　the　ideals　for　which　he
lives。

The　life　to　which　he　takes　us；　though　far　off　and　very　strange　to
our　tame　minds；　is　the　life　of　our　brothers。　　Into　the　Northwest　of
Canada　the　young　men　of　Great　Britain　and　Ireland　have　been　pouring
（I　was　told）；　sometimes　at　the　rate　of　48；000　a　year。　　Our　brothers
who　left　home　yesterdayour　hearts　cannot　but　follow　them。　　With
these　pages　Ralph　Conner　enables　our　eyes　and　our　minds　to　follow；
too；　nor　do　I　think　there　is　any　one　who　shall　read　this　book　and
not　find　also　that　his　conscience　is　quickened。　　There　is　a　warfare
appointed　unto　man　upon　earth；　and　its　struggles　are　nowhere　more
intense；　nor　the　victories　of　the　strong；　nor　the　succors　brought
to　the　fallen；　more　heroic；　than　on　the　fields　described　in　this
volume。

GEORGE　ADAM　SMITH。





BLACK　ROCK


The　story　of　the　book　is　true；　and　chief　of　the　failures　in　the
making　of　the　book　is　this；　that　it　is　not　all　the　truth。　　The
light　is　not　bright　enough；　the　shadow　is　not　black　enough　to　give
a　true　picture　of　that　bit　of　Western　life　of　which　the　writer　was
some　small　part。　　The　men　of　the　book　are　still　there　in　the　mines
and　lumber　camps　of　the　mountains；　fighting　out　that　eternal　fight
for　manhood；　strong；　clean；　God…conquered。　　And；　when　the　west
winds　blow；　to　the　open　ear　the　sounds　of　battle　come；　telling　the
fortunes　of　the　fight。

Because　a　man's　life　is　all　he　has；　and　because　the　only　hope　of
the　brave　young　West　lies　in　its　men；　this　story　is　told。　　It　may
be　that　the　tragic　pity　of　a　broken　life　may　move　some　to　pray；　and
that　that　divine　power　there　is　in　a　single　brave　heart　to　summon
forth　hope　and　courage　may　move　some　to　fight。　　If　so；　the　tale　is
not　told　in　vain。

C。W。G。



CONTENTS


CHAPTER　I

CHRISTMAS　EVE　IN　A　LUMBER　CAMP


CHAPTER　II

THE　BLACK　ROCK　CHRISTMAS


CHAPTER　III

WATERLOO。　　OUR　FIGHTHIS　VICTORY


CHAPTER　IV

MRS。　MAVOR'S　STORY


CHAPTER　V

THE　MAKING　OF　THE　LEAGUE


CHAPTER　VI

BLACK　ROCK　RELIGION


CHAPTER　VII

THE　FIRST　BLACK　ROCK　COMMUNION


CHAPTER　VIII

THE　BREAKING　OF　THE　LEAGUE


CHAPTER　IX

THE　LEAGUE'S　REVENGE


CHAPTER　X

WHAT　CAME　TO　SLAVIN


CHAPTER　XI

THE　TWO　CALLS


CHAPTER　XII

LOVE　IS　NOT　ALL


CHAPTER　XIII

HOW　NELSON　CAME　HOME


CHAPTER　XIV

GRAEME'S　NEW　BIRTH


CHAPTER　XV

COMING　TO　THEIR　OWN




CHAPTER　I


CHRISTMAS　EVE　IN　A　LUMBER　CAMP


It　was　due　to　a　mysterious　dispensation　of　Providence；　and　a　good
deal　to　Leslie　Graeme；　that　I　found　myself　in　the　heart　of　the
Selkirks　for　my　Christmas　Eve　as　the　year　1882　was　dying。　　It　had
been　my　plan　to　spend　my　Christmas　far　away　in　Toronto；　with　such
Bohemian　and　boon　companions　as　could　be　found　in　that　cosmopolitan
and　kindly　city。　　But　Leslie　Graeme　changed　all　that；　for；
discovering　me　in　the　village　of　Black　Rock；　with　my　traps　all
packed；　waiting　for　the　stage　to　start　for　the　Landing；　thirty
miles　away；　he　bore　down　upon　me　with　resistless　force；　and　I　found
myself　recovering　from　my　surprise　only　after　we　had　gone　in　his
lumber　sleigh　some　six　miles　on　our　way　to　his　camp　up　in　the
mountains。　　I　was　surprised　and　much　delighted；　though　I　would　not
allow　him　to　think　so；　to　find　that　his　old…time　power　over　me　was
still　there。　　He　could　always　in　the　old　'Varsity　daysdear；　wild
daysmake　me　do　what　he　liked。　　He　was　so　handsome　and　so
reckless；　brilliant　in　his　class…work；　and　the　prince　of　half…backs
on　the　Rugby　field；　and　with　such　power　of　fascination；　as　would
'extract　the　heart　out　of　a　wheelbarrow；'　as　Barney　Lundy　used　to
say。　　And　thus　it　was　that　I　found　myself　just　three　weeks　laterI
was　to　have　spent　two　or　three　days；on　the　afternoon　of　the　24th
of　December；　standing　in　Graeme's　Lumber　Camp　No。　2；　wondering　at
myself。　　But　I　did　not　regret　my　changed　plans；　for　in　those　three
weeks　I　had　raided　a　cinnamon　bear's　den　and　had　wakened　up　a
grizzly　　But　I　shall　let　the　grizzly　finish　the　tale；　he　probably
sees　more　humour　in　it　than　I。

The　camp　stood　in　a　little　clearing；　and　consisted　of　a　group　of
three　long；　low　shanties　with　smaller　shacks　near　them；　all　built
of　heavy；　unhewn　logs；　with　door　and　window　in　each。　　The　grub
camp；　with　cook…shed　attached；　stood　in　the　middle　of　the　clearing；
at　a　little　distance　was　the　sleeping…camp　with　the　office　built
against　it；　and　about　a　hundred　yards　away　on　the　other　side　of　the
clearing　stood　the　stables；　and　near　them　the　smiddy。　　The
mountains　rose　grandly　on　every　side；　throwing　up　their　great　peaks
into　the　sky。　　The　clearing　in　which　the　camp　stood　was　hewn　out　of
a　dense　pine　forest　that　filled　the　valley　and　climbed　half　way　up
the　mountain…sides；　and　then　frayed　out　in　scattered　and　stunted
trees。

It　was　one　of　those　wonderful　Canadian　winter　days；　bright；　and
with　a　touch　of　sharpness　in　the　air　that　did　not　chill；　but　warmed
the　blood　like　draughts　of　wine。　　The　men　were　up　in　the　woods；　and
the　shrill　scream　of　the　blue　jay　flashing　across　the　open；　the
impudent　chatter　of　the　red　squirrel　from　the　top　of　the　grub　camp；
and　the　pert　chirp　of　the　whisky…jack；　hopping　about　on　the
rubbish…heap；　with　the　long；　lone　cry　of　the　wolf　far　down　the
valley；　only　made　the　silence　felt　the　more。

As　I　stood　drinking　in　with　all　my　soul　the　glorious　beauty　and　the
silence　of　mountain　and　forest；　with　the　Christmas　feeling　stealing
into　me；　Graeme　came　out　from　his　office；　and；　catching　sight　of
me；　called　out；　'Glorious　Christmas　weather；　old　chap！'　　And　then；
coming　nearer；　'Must　you　go　to…morrow？'

'I　fear　so；'　I　replied；　knowing　well　that　the　Christmas　feeling　was
on　him　too。

'I　wish　I　were　going　with　you；'　he　said　quietly。

I　turned　eagerly　to　persuade　him；　but　at　the　look　of　suffering　in
his　face　the　words　died　at　my　lips；　for　we　both　were　thinking　of
the　awful　night　of　horror　when　all　his　bright；　brilliant　life
crashed　down　about　him　in　black　ruin　and　shame。　　I　could　only　throw
my　arm　over　his　shoulder　and　stand　silent　beside　him。　　A　sudden
jingle　of　bells　roused　him；　and；　giving　himself　a　little　shake；　he
exclaimed；　'There　are　the　boys　coming　home。'

Soon　the　camp　was　filled　with　men　talking；　laughing；　chaffing；　like
light…hearted　boys。

'They　are　a　little　wild　to…night；'　said　Graeme；　'and　to　morrow
they'll　paint　Black　Rock　red。'

Before　many　minutes　had　gone；　the　last　teamster　was　'washed　up；'
and　all　were　standing　about　waiting　impatiently　for　the　cook's
signalthe　supper　to…night　was　to　be　'something　of　a　feed'when
the　sound　of　bells　drew　their　attention　to　a　light　sleigh　drawn　by
a　buckskin　broncho　coming　down　the　hillside　at　a　great　pace。

'The　preacher；　I'll　bet；　by　his　driving；'　said　one　of　the　men。

'Bedad；　and　it's　him　has　the　foine　nose　for　turkey！'　said　Blaney；　a
good…natured；　jovial　Irishman。

'Yes；　or　for　pay…day；　more　like；'　said　Keefe；　a　black…browed；
villainous　fellow…countryman　of　Blaney's；　and；　strange　to　say；　his
great　friend。

Big　Sandy　M'Naughton；　a　Canadian　Highlander　from　Glengarry；　rose　up
in　wrath。　　'Bill　Keefe；'　said　he；　with　deliberate　emphasis；　'you'll
just　keep　your　dirty　tongue　off　the　minister；　and　as　for　your　pay；
it's　little　he　sees　of　it；　or　any　one　else；　except　Mike　Slavin；
when　you're　too　dry　to　wait　for　some　one　to　treat　you；　or　perhaps
Father　Ryan；　when　the　fear　of　hell…fire　is　on　to　you。'

The　men　stood　amazed　at　Sandy's　sudden　anger　and　length　of　speech。

'Bon；　dat's　good　for　you；　my　bully　boy；'　said　Baptiste；　a　wiry
little　French…Canadian；　Sandy's　sworn　ally　and　devoted　admirer　ever
since　the　day　when　the　big　Scotsman；　under　great　provocation；　had
knocked　him　clean　off　the　dump　into　the　river　and　then　jumped　in
for　him。

It　was　not　till　afterwards　I　learned　the　cause　of　Sandy's　sudden
wrath　which　urged　him　to　such　unwonted　length　of　speech。　　It　was
not　simply　that　the　Presbyterian　blood　carried　with　it　reverence
for　the　minister　and　contempt　for　Papists　and　Fenians；　but　that　he
had　a　vivid　remembrance　of　how；　only　a　month　ago；　the　minister　had
got　him　out　of　Mike　Slavin's　saloon　and　out　the　clutches　of　Keefe
and　Slavin　and　their　gang　of　bloodsuckers。

Keefe　started　up　with　a　curse。　　Baptiste　sprang　to　Sandy's　side；
slapped　him　on　the　back；　and　called　out；　'You　keel　him；　I'll　hit
（eat）　him　up；　me。'

It　looked　as　if　there　might　be　a　fight；　when　a　harsh　voice　said　in
a　low；　savage　tone；　'Stop　your　row；　you　blank　fools；　settle　it；　if
you　want　to；　somewhere　else。'　　I　turned；　and　was　amazed　to　see　old
man　Nelson；　who　was　very　seldom　moved　to　speech。

There　was　a　look　of　scorn　on　his　hard；　iron…grey　face；　and　of　such
settled　fierceness　as　made　me　quite　believe　the　tales　I　had　heard
of　his　deadly　fights　in　the　mines　at　the　coast。　　Before　any　reply
could　be　made；　the　minister　drove　up　and　called　out　in　a　cheery
voice；　'Merry　Christmas；　boys！　　Hello；　Sandy！　　Comment　ca　va；
Baptiste？　　How　do　you　do；　Mr。　Graeme？'

'First　rate。　　Let　me　introduce　my　friend；　Mr。　Connor；　sometime
medical　student；　now　artist；　hunter；　and　tramp　at　large；　but　not　a
bad　sort。'

'A　man　to　be　envied；'　said　the　minister；　smiling。　　'I　am　glad　to
know　any　friend　of　Mr。　Graeme's。'

I　liked　Mr。　Craig　from　the　first。　　He　had　good　eyes　that　looked
straight　out　at　you；　a　clean…cut；　strong　face　well　set　on　his
shoulders；　and　altogether　an　upstanding；　manly　bearing。　　He
insisted　on　going　with　Sandy　to　the　stables　to　see　Dandy；　his
broncho；　put　up。

'Decent　fellow；'　said　Graeme；　'but　though　he　is　good　enough　to　his
broncho；　it　is　Sandy　that's　in　his　mind　now。'

'Does　he　come　out　often？　　I　mean；　are　you　part　of　his　parish；　so　to
speak？'

'I　have　no　doubt　he　thinks　so；　and　I'm　blowed　if　he　doesn't　make
the　Presbyterians　of　us　think　so　too。'　　And　he　added　after　a　pause；
'A　dandy　lot　of　parishioners　we　are　for　any　man。　　There's　Sandy；
now；　he　would　knock　Keefe's　head　off　as　a　kind　of　religious
exercise；　but　to…morrow　Keefe　will　be　sober；　and　Sandy　will　be
drunk　as　a　lord；　and　the　drunker　he　is　the　better　Presbyterian
he'll　be；　to　the　preacher's　disgust。'　　Then　after　another　pause　he
added　bitterly；　'But　it　is　not　for　me　to　throw　rocks　at　Sandy；　I　am
not　the　same　kind　of　fool；　but　I　am　a　fool　of　several　other　sorts。'

Then　the　cook　came　out　and　beat　a　tattoo　on　the　bottom　of　a　dish…
pa