“I don’t think there has been any very great descent,” she went on. “You must try to realize that those men are not wastrels now, however they may have lived in England, Montreal, or the cities down Puget Sound. They’re rending new roads through the mountains to let in progress and civilization, and making fast the foundations of the future greatness of a wide and prosperous land. Already, because of what they and their kind have done, you can travel through it without seeing a ragged, slatternly woman, or a broken-down, desperate man. Besides, many of them, and certainly most of the small bush ranchers, lead lives characterized by the old heroic virtues that seem to have gone out of fashion in the cities, though you’ll find some of them held up for emulation in the Pauline epistles.”
Weston gazed at her in blank astonishment. She made a little, half-contemptuous gesture.
“You can’t understand that? Well, one really couldn’t expect you to. You have never starved your body, or forced it day after day to a task that was crushing you. Those men work in icy water, keep the trail with bleeding feet, and sleep in melting snow. They bear these things cheerfully, and I think there are no men on this earth who can match their wide charity. The free companions never turn away the ragged stranger. What is theirs is his, from the choicest of their provisions to the softest spruce-twig bed.”
She laughed, and then continued:
“That’s in a general way. To be particular, I’ll try to tell you what Clarence Weston has done. It’s worth hearing.”
She had spoken more clearly the last few moments, and it became evident at length that she had secured the attention of everybody. With an impulsive gesture she invited them all to listen.
“I’ll tell you what that picture leaves out,” she said. “There was an old man in the railroad camp, played-out and useless. The boys were handling him roughly because he’d spoiled their supper rather often, when Clarence Weston stepped in. The old man, you must understand, hadn’t a shadow of a claim on him. Now, those are not nice men to make trouble with when they have a genuine grievance, and there were three or four of them quite ready to lay hands on Weston, while there was nobody who sympathized with him. He stood facing them, one man against an angry crowd, and held them off from the stranger who had no claim on him. Have you heard of anything finer?
“Again, when Arabella lamed herself up on a great snow range—he’d carried our food and blankets since sunrise—he went down to bring help in the darkness, through the timber and along the edge of horrible crags. The man had badly cut his foot, and the wound opened on the march, but when he made the camp, almost too weary to crawl, he went back right away, so that the Indians he took up might get there a little quicker.”
She broke off for a moment, with a flush in her face and a curious little laugh.
“Now,” she said, “I think I’ve made the thing quite plain, and I’m glad I did.”