The Shepherd of the Hills

by Harold Bell Wright

The boy was lying on his back on the grassy hillside watching the clouds. He pointed upward, “There, where he went; up there in the white hills. Pete knows.”

The other looked long at the lad before answering quietly, “Dad does not know when he will go. But he is ready any time, now.”

“Pete says better not wait long, Dad; ’cause Pete he’s a goin’ an’ course when he goes I’ve got to go ’long. Do you reckon Dad can see Pete when he is up there in them white hills? Some folks used to laugh at Pete when he told about the white hills, the flower things, the sky things, an’ the moonlight things that play in the mists. An’ once a fellow called Pete a fool, an’ Young Matt he whipped him awful. But folks wasn’t really to blame, ’cause they couldn’t see ’em. That’s what he said. An’ he knew, ’cause he could see ’em too. But Aunt Mollie, an’ Uncle Matt, an’ you all, they don’t never laugh. They just say, ‘Pete knows.’ But they couldn’t see the flower things, or the tree things neither. Only he could see.”

The summer passed, and, when the blue gray haze took on the purple touch and all the woods and hills were dressed with cloth of gold, Pete went from the world in which he had never really belonged, nor had been at home. Mr. Howitt, writing to Dr. Coughlan of the boy’s death, said:

“Here and there among men, there are those who pause in the hurried rush to listen to the call of a life that is more real. How often have we seen them, David, jostled and ridiculed by their fellows, pushed aside and forgotten, as incompetent or unworthy. He who sees and hears too much is cursed for a dreamer, a fanatic, or a fool, by the mad mob, who, having eyes, see not, ears and hear not, and refuse to understand.

“We build temples and churches, but will not worship in them; we hire spiritual advisers, but refuse to heed them; we buy bibles, but will not read them; believing in God, we do not fear Him; acknowledging Christ, we neither follow nor obey Him. Only when we can no longer strive in the battle for earthly honors or material wealth, do we turn to the unseen but more enduring things of life; and, with ears deafened by the din of selfish war and cruel violence, and eyes blinded by the glare of passing pomp and folly, we strive to hear and see the things we have so long refused to consider.

“Pete knew a world unseen by us, and we, therefore, fancied ourselves wiser than he. The wind in the pines, the rustle of the leaves, the murmur of the brook, the growl of the thunder, and the voices of the night were all understood and answered by him. The flowers, the trees, the rocks, the hills, the clouds were to him, not lifeless things, but living friends, who laughed and wept with him as he was gay or sorrowful.

“‘Poor Pete,’ we said. Was he in truth, David, poorer or richer than we?”

They laid the boy beside his mother under the pines on the hills; the pines that showed so dark against the sky when the sun was down behind the ridge. And over his bed the wild vines lovingly wove a coverlid of softest green, while all his woodland friends gathered about his couch. Forest and hill and flower and cloud sang the songs he loved. All day the sunlight laid its wealth in bars of gold at his feet, and at night the moonlight things and the shadow things came out to play.

Summer and autumn slipped away; the winter passed; spring came, with all the wonder of the resurrection of flower and leaf and blade. So peace and quiet came again into the shepherd’s life. When no answer to his letter was received, and the doctor did not return as he had promised, the old man knew that the last link connecting him with the world was broken.