He carefully knocked the ashes from his cigar and continued: "To-be-sure, I know now that wasn't no excuse, but it looked that way then. After a while the boys married off and I staid to home and took care of the old folks; and purty soon the girls they got married too; and then pa and ma got too old to go out, and I couldn't leave 'em much, and so I didn't get to meetin' very often. Things went on that way a spell 'til Bill got to thinkin' he'd better come and live on the home farm and look after things, as I didn't have no woman; to-be-sure, it did need a good bit of tendin'. Six hundred acres all in fine shape and well stocked—so I told pa that I'd come west an let 'em run things at home. I got a job punchin' steers out here in James County, and they're all back there yet. The old folks died a little bit after I came west, and Bill—well—Bill, he keeps the home place 'cause he took care of 'em ye know—well, I homesteaded a hundred and sixty, and after a spell, the Santa Fe road come through and I got to buyin' grain and hogs, and tradin' in castor-oil beans and managed to get hold of some land here when the town was small. To-be-sure, I aint rich yet, though I've got enough to keep me I reckon. I handle a little real estate, get some rent from my buildin's, and loan a little money now and then. But you bet I've worked for every cent I've got, and I didn't fool none of it away either, 'cept what went up in smoke."
The old gentleman's voice sank lower and lower as he recalled the years that had flown. And as Dick looked at the kindly face, seamed and furrowed by the cares of life, and the hair just whitened by the frost of time, now half hidden in a halo of smoke, he felt his heart warm with sympathy, which he knew was returned full measure by the boy who had left his Ohio home to battle with life alone in that strange western country.
"But what I wanted to tell ye," said Uncle Bobbie, coming suddenly back to the present and speaking in his usual abrupt manner, "you'll find out, same as I have, that it don't much matter how the other feller dabbles in the dirt, you've got to keep your hands clean anyhow. An' taint the question whether the other feller's mean or not, but am I livin' square? I know that Christ is the Saviour of men, but he can't save 'em 'less they want him to, no more'n I can catch a jack-rabbit a-foot. Christianity's all right, but it aint a goin' to do no good 'less people live it, and there's a heap more living it too than we think. What such fellers as you want to do is to listen to what Christ says and not look at what some little two by four church member does. They aint worth that;" and he tossed his cigar stub to keep company with Dick's pipe.
Dick said nothing, because he could find no words to express himself, and the older man, seeing how it was, rose to his feet.
"Well, I must be goin'. Wife'll think I've clean gone back on her. Come up to the house and see me sometime. I reckon you know you're welcome after what I've been sayin'." And then as the young man gave him a lift with his coat; "keep a stiff upper lip; you'll strike pay dirt after a while; just keep a hangin' on, like a puppy to a root. Good-night," and Dick was alone again.
"Wife," said Mr. Wicks next morning, just before getting up to build the fire; "wife, I made a discovery last night."
"You were out late enough to discover something," returned Mrs. Wicks, with a laugh; "what is it?"
And Uncle Bobbie replied slowly as he arose and began dressing, "There's some fellers go to the devil just because they aint got nowheres else to go."
Later, the old gentleman sat at his desk in his office, tilted back in his revolving chair, his feet among the papers where his hands should have been. No one came in to disturb his revery for it was still early in the morning, and the only sound was the clicking of a typewriter in the next room. Suddenly the feet came down to their proper place with a bang, and leaning forward, he wrote rapidly for a few moments, then called, "Charlie." The noise of the typewriter stopped and a young man entered the room. "Charlie, I've been gettin' out a little advertisin' stuff here, and I wish you'd take it over to George Udell's an' wait until they fix it up, so you can bring me back the proof. You can let them letters rest a spell."
The young man took his hat and umbrella, for it was still raining, and started on his errand, but his employer stopped him. "Wait a bit, Charlie. Do you remember that young feller what called here for a job week before last, the time I sold that Johnson property, you know?"