"Ay, but I'll jist take him away with me to-morrow and he'll come to in a few days."
I knew enough of the life in these valleys not to be hard with Ould Michael and his friends. The slow monotony of the long, lonely weeks made any break welcome, and the only break open to them was that afforded by Paddy Dougan's best home-made, a single glass of which would drive a man far on to madness. A new book, a fresh face, a social gathering, a Sabbath service—how much one or all of these might do for them!
With difficulty I escaped from Ould Michael's hospitality and, leaving the scenes of beastly debauchery behind, betook myself to the woods and river. Here, on the lower bench, the woods became an open glade with only the big trees remaining.
I threw myself down on the river-bank and gave myself up to the gracious influences that stole in upon, me from trees and air and grass and the flowing river. The Sabbath feeling began to grow upon me, as the pines behind and the river in front sang to each other soft, crooning songs. As I lay and listened to the solemn music of the great, swaying pines and the soft, full melody of the big river, my heart went back to my boyhood days when I used to see the people gather in the woods for the "Communion." There was the same soothing quiet over all, the same soft, crooning music and, over all, the same sense of a Presence. In my dreaming, ever and again there kept coming to me the face of Ould Michael, with the look that it bore after reading his home-letter, and I thought how different would his Sabbath day have been had his sister and his little one been near to stand between him and the dreariness and loneliness of his life.
True to his promise, McFarquhar carried off Ould Michael to his ranch up Grizzly Creek. Before the sun was high McFarquhar had his own and Michael's pony ready at the door and, however unwilling Ould Michael might be, there was nothing for it but march. As they rode off Ould Michael took off his hat under the flag and called out:
"God save Her Majesty!"
"God bless her!" I echoed heartily.
At once the old soldier clambered down and, tearing open his coat, pulled out a flask.
"Mr. McFarquhar," he said, solemnly, "it would be unbecoming in us to separate from our friend without duly honoring Her Gracious Majesty's name." Then, raising high the flask, he called out with great ceremony, and dropping his brogue entirely: "Gentlemen, I give you the Queen, God bless her!" He raised the flask to his lips and took a long pull and passed it to me. After we had duly honored the toast, Ould Michael once more struck an impressive attitude and called out: "Gentlemen, Her Majesty's loyal forces——" when McFarquhar reached for him and, taking the flask out of his hand, said, gravely: