The Lumberjack Sky Pilot

by Thomas D. Whittles

The minister knew that he had found the opening to the old man's heart and began to talk of his own dog team, the faithfulness and intelligence of the animals and the companionship they freely gave. Old Grouchy joined in the conversation and discussed with freedom the love he felt for the dumb creatures. From this they drifted to matters more personal until the whole story of the man's life was narrated and the cause of his cynicism was bared.

It was a story of startling disappointment, of a home wrecked through unfaithfulness and broken trust. No man could hear the story and remain unsympathetic.

"No wonder you see the world darkened," said the preacher; "if I had your experience I might feel as you do today."

The missionary talked to the man and tried to lead him to the bright paths of peace, but nothing appealed to the sad soul of the lonely man. The gospel gave him no hope, the sun was set, and all was covered with the curtains of night. God to him was dead and in all the world the only love he knew was the dumb affection of the forlorn yellow dog.

When Mr. Higgins went back to that camp in later days the road monkey would listen attentively to the presentation of the loving Christ and seemed to wonder if it were possible that God could care for him.

"Sing, brother," said the missionary. But the old man only shook his head. He would not sing. Nay! he could not. His heart strings were withered; melody had left him through the unfaithfulness of woman. He had passed into the starless night where no glimmer of hope entered, and in his solitude he caressed his little dog and perhaps wondered if the great God cared, if any being was interested in him besides the faithful little animal.

The Rev. Frank Higgins was preparing for the evening service. He had rolled the barrel into the center of the room where it was to do duty as a pulpit. The proprietor of the camp came in and seeing the barrel, but not knowing its intended purpose, appropriated it as a seat. Not wishing to disturb the proprietor, Mr. Higgins stood by his side and conducted the service.

The place was well filled and the interest was intense. The men entered heartily into the singing, and when the sermon came it was full of keen home thrusts. The errors of the lumberjacks were pointed out with freedom and a remedy forced with conviction. The proprietor sitting on the pulpit enjoyed the straightforward way in which the preacher dealt with the lumberjacks, and at every telling shot heartily applauded and added some words of encouragement to the speaker.

"Now you're getting them, Higgins; keep the chips a-flying. Give them another whirl, Pilot; you have them where the hide is thin." With these and other suggestions he added his encouragement.

It happened that while the proprietor was a man whose record as a logger was one of the best in the state, being able to get out his logs where others would fail, yet his morals were far below his business reputation. His son was following in his footsteps, much to the sorrow of the mother and the disgust of the father.