As the parson was closing the door they shouted after him, "Come again!" The words cheered his heart and made him long for the time when they would follow his teachings more closely, and forsake the haunts of sin.
The good man spent the Sunday evening in going among the billiard saloons, and the next morning he went to the Mounted Police barracks, where he found the men sitting down to breakfast. He addressed a few words to the men, who heartily responded to the appeal, then returning home, and counting over the gains, he found that he had enough to settle his account. This he did with a very light heart. Such was one of the parson's methods of "raising the wind." He never failed in gaining the hearts of the men, as he spoke to them in a manly way, without any signs of effeminacy or peculiar sanctity unsuited to western life.
Our "Sky Pilot" still retains his buckskin suit, and when he wears it again he feels the scent of the prairie air, and longs like the war-horse for another engagement on the plains of the West, where, unhampered by the petty forms of civilized life, he can talk to men who rejoice in and illustrate in their lives a noble type of Christianity.
THE LONE PINE.
CHAPTER I.
Notable camping-place for Indians, half-breeds and white travellers was the Lone Pine. It stood like a monarch raising its head over a wide, unsurveyed territory—no other tree to keep it company or break the flat monotony of the sea of grass surrounding it on every side.
Many strange stories were told of this tree. The gods had planted the seed and tended it with great care. They had protected the tiny shoots from the wintry blasts and severe frosts. They had caused the sun to shine upon it, the clouds to empty refreshing showers over it to encourage its growth; and as its tiny leaves unfolded under the genial influence of their care, they had assembled to rejoice over it. It had stood for many years a beacon to travellers, a sentinel on the plains, a pillar towering to the sky, a guiding landmark that was discernible for miles, known and recognized by all the tribes and traders to whom the great prairie was hunting ground and highway.
A season of sickness fell upon the people, and the Lone Pine, too, in pitying sympathy with the nations who honored it, sickened and died. The people mourned as for a great chief, and as they bore their dead past its decaying trunk, fear of the coming of greater sorrow entered their hearts.
One night a wild wind swept over the plain, and the Pine, unable to resist its force, fell to the ground. Then the spirits of the prairie held a secret conference at the spot, and it was decreed that a daily guard should be set over the tree, strict injunction being given that at the first sign of returning life the guard should report at once.