"When I came to Canada to farm," said Spoof, after the excitement over Jake's gift had died down, "I came equipped for everything but farming. I could have started a second-hand store, a curiosity shop, an arsenal, or a music hall much better than I could start a farm. In fact, I feel like all of these things, except, perhaps, the music hall, when I look around my shack. Particularly well was I equipped against savages, grizzly bears, and mountain lions. I remember the days I spent in picking out my rifles, weighing the qualities of this arm and that, and the penetrating power of the different bullets. My biggest game so far has been a badger, alias a chinook, whose hide now adorns the den of my immediate and admiring ancestor. Out of the abundance of my defences I now bring to you, John Lane, this piece of artillery, with the injunction that it must never be pointed toward section Two, and, preferably, not at anything else. Hang it over your portal, as evidence that you can be a desperate man upon occasion, and let it go at that. I have been thoughtful enough not to bring any ammunition." Spoof then produced, out of the bedroom where Brown, acting as his agent, had secretly cached it, a repeating rifle, which Jack handled with as much admiration as Marjorie spent on her pendant, and then placed it lovingly away.
"Now, I believe that's all," said Spoof.
"Not yet," Reddy interrupted. "I want to be in on this, although I didn't come prepared." He had written something in a note-book, which he now tore out and handed to Jack. It was a receipt for the price of his wedding ring. Jack protested, but Reddy would have it no other way.
The only one not represented by a presentation was the minister, but he proved equal to the occasion.
"My children," he said,—he was not much older than Jack or I, perhaps about the age of Spoof—"I am not a man of the world, and consequently cannot give you of the good things which the world provides. The theory that a minister should lay up his treasure in Heaven is taken rather literally in these times. I am not quarreling with that. Materialism is the murderous outlaw of the age, an enemy that goes bullying through the land, outraging our finer natures, overturning our ideals, polluting our ambitions. I hope I am not envious of his followers. And to you, and all of you, I give something that money could not buy—my blessing, with a promise of my ministrations, without charge, on those future occasions upon which it may be assumed you will be in need of them."
The minister had escaped from a somewhat embarrassing position with the dignity that became his calling, and with a gentle joke that showed how very human he was at heart.
"Clear out the pork and the seed wheat," Spoof ordered, as there seemed likely to be a lull in the night's enjoyment. "Ole, it is fortunate that Mrs. Burke persuaded you not to bring in your load of hay."
So the floor was cleared. The door, when opened, revealed a wedge of snow-storm whistling by, but inside the wintry weather was forgotten and the tremor of our shanty's timbers passed unnoticed. Reddy had mounted himself on our own table—the big one had been taken out, in pieces—and was twisting the strings of a violin to tune. Presently his bow cut loose a drone of dancing rhythm, and feet began to tap the plain pine boards of the floor.
"Pardners all!" Jake commanded. It was evident he was to be master of ceremonies; he had just taken a great chew of tobacco to promote the flow of language. The insistent note of the violin brought Jack and me, with Marjorie and Jean, Mr. and Mrs. Burke, and Mr. and Mrs. Brown, to the centre of the room. The dancing would be of the "square-dance" variety which was no novelty to us or to the Burkes, and which the others would soon pick up under the guidance of Professer Jake.
"S'lute yer pardner! . . . Pass 'er by. . . Balance to the next." And we were off. Jake and the fiddler warmed up with the dancers, and presently the shanty was rocking with the stamp and the swing of it. Those were not the days of dancing that is little more than a walk; one danced with all his heart and body, and was not afraid to shake the floors and ceilings.