The minister, arising, looked over the room.
"'Nearer to Thee,'" he repeated softly, and then paused, and when he resumed, his voice struck through to the hearts of his hearers as a hand plucking the strings of a harp. "'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' Two-Spot. The name was lowly, and with thoughtless cruelty was given to Henry Travers, who once was under foreman for Simon Verrier, the former owner of the SV ranch. We have no knowledge of the interval between the days of his responsibility and strength, and that cold winter evening when Margaret Arnold found him, weak from hunger and exposure, freezing in a snow-drift not far from her home. Of the man's weakness we will not speak, except in charity and to show that the character which won for him the confidence and trust of old Simon persisted in spite of that weakness and blazed out gloriously, to win for him an honorable death. It would have been easy to betray the confidence of another, especially when he knew the ability of that other to protect himself. He could have saved his life by telling the truth, and I say to you that there are some untruths more glorious than those truths which mean danger, or perhaps death, to a friend. And if he had yielded to fear to save his life he would have found that life to be a thing without value. He would have lost to himself all that remained worth while. Two-Spot, weak with a weakness perhaps passed on to him by the thoughtless and vicious lives of those others who had preceded him, was, nevertheless, a man, and will live in your memories as a man, a man who at the threat of death, rallied the best within him and died to protect a fellow-man who had been kind to him. He was a lowly card, but even a two-spot has a value, as every man in this room can testify. A two-spot, at the right time and in the right combination, makes a winning hand; and I have it on the authority of two people here that he was given one spot too many. Hardly an ace of diamonds, but surely an ace of hearts, for in his breast beat a heart as true and sympathetic as that of any man in this room.
"There was not a thing coming to his knowledge which affected the welfare of a struggling, defenseless family on this range, that he did not tell them; and when I say that for a man of his age and weakness to walk nine miles to warn them, and nine miles back again, in any weather, at the only time he could do so without being seen and arousing suspicion, required such a heart, and a fine quality of courage, I know that you all will agree with me. Many nights when the range was wrapped in sleep, Two-Spot made that journey. And I say that he was a man, and I pay him the respect which such a heart and courage merits. And no matter what his weaknesses were, no matter how unworthy you may have thought him to be, I say that this man whom you knew as Two-Spot was as good as any who sneered at him, as much a man in his last moment on earth as a material being as any man in this room! And I say that if we all, every one of us, can die as fearlessly and as honorably as this man died, we need not fear the Judgment Day. There may be some of you who do not give much thought to that Judgment Day, or to that Merciful Judge. There may be some of you who do not believe in God—but I say, that, no matter Who or What waits beyond the Open Door, He or It will deal gently with Henry Travers. And I say for those who do not believe in any divine faith, and say it aside from any viewpoint of religion, but purely as a question of ethics, of effort and reward, of right living or wrong, that every man in this room can find something in the strength of this weak man, something in the way he faced death, that can be taken with profit to himself and serve as an inspiration. Under all his fleshly weakness, with all his yielding to a dominant craving, there blazed the white flames of sympathy, affection, and loyalty. And I cannot find this occasion to be one for sorrow, or for grief. Rather, I should say it is one for congratulation: Two-Spot, shorn of his weaknesses, saved from jeers and cruelty and injustice, and the misery coming with old age, which cannot but be tragic to such a one as he, found himself at the last moment, and died the man which circumstances would have refused to have let him live. Let us pray."
If his auditors had been impressed by his address, the prayer reached down and gripped their very heartstrings, stirring into groping life the vague fear and awe of the supernatural, by heritage firmly implanted in each consciousness. Death, with its mystery and threat, brought its awesome fear like a wave, with an impetus acquired from rolling down past generations, to minds prepared to quail before it in momentary surrender. From the distant and impersonal, it suddenly loomed out of the fog of the mysterious unknown real, and made real by a mind trained to present truth as it is, and became close and personal. And at the conclusion of the gripping words, only the fresher, newer momentum of the carelessness and indifference of their every-day lives could offset the fear which spread like ripples over their superstitions and set their religious instincts a-quiver. But like concentric ripples, it grew weaker even as it reached farther out; yet the reacting ripples enduring for days, showing intermittently and intermittently arousing vague unrest in their minds.
He glanced at Margaret and walked quickly to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I would not attempt it, my dear. Two-Spot would not allow another hymn, at such a cost to you."
Dailey, Johnny, Dave, and Fanning moved slowly forward, feeling as they never had felt before, reverently and carefully picked up the box and led the out of the building and across the street to a grassy knoll not far from the road, where the warmth and brightness of the sun rested from dawn to dark. The ceremony at the grave over, they returned to Dave's, where they shook hands with a parson who had jolted their ideas regarding men of his calling.
"Friends," he protested, raising his hands at the coins in the hat held out to him, "this is too much. I cannot take so much for doing my duty. It is not reasonable."
"Parson," said Dave, a grin coming to his face, "we ain't had no gunplay today, but if you don't take that money, I can't promise that there won't be none. Some of us leather-backs has been eddicated today, an' they say eddication costs money. I reckon a parson livin' in such a hole of iniquity as Juniper can find use for our offerin's. If you can't take it for yoreself, take it for yore church—it'll help you to build one all th' quicker. An' I'm sayin' that we'll allus be glad to see you in Gunsight, as a parson or as a man. Shake."
Margaret came forward and thanked him, and turned to Dave.
"Did you know that he slept under your floor?" she asked. "He was always wondering if you did."