"Stand back," said the preacher. "You're not in my class, and I can't reduce my heft to accommodate a middle weight at this late hour."
The bar tender was full of fight and menacingly waved a weapon at the preacher, and several seconded him in the contest.
"Sit down, you heated fools," cried a campman; "that's the Sky Pilot, and the man that tackles him tackles me and some others."
"Paddy has had more than enough liquor already," continued the preacher, "the silver I left on the bar is more than sufficient to treat the crowd at his expense, so I'll keep the rest as Paddy's banker until he is in a condition to know the value of it." Turning to the saloonman, he said, "You call yourself a man and yet you would take all the winter's earnings of a poor fellow who is not in his right mind. You are a scoundrel or you would have sent this fellow away long ago."
Mr. Higgins and his friend got Paddy on the train and carried him to Bemidji where they put him to bed.
Next morning Paddy wandered into the lobby where the preacher was sitting. "Some one robbed me last night," he began; "they took every cent I had and pinched my hat and coat. What am I goin' to do?"
"Go home. That's what you're going to do," said the preacher with decision. "Nobody robbed you Paddy, nobody needed to. When I met you last night you were throwing your money away faster than they could take it from you. You had already lost your coat and you threw your hat out of the car window on the way here. But we managed to save a little for you, enough to get you back home." The preacher handed him the roll of bills he had saved. It contained forty dollars.
Paddy took the advice of the Sky Pilot and left at once for home, never again to appear among his old associates in the pineries. He is the brother of a respected Catholic priest, and comes of a prominent family.
*****
The proverb reads, "A man is known by the company he keeps." In the main the proverb is true, but it is not always applicable. A slum worker differs from his associates; a camp worker is with the worst element of the camps more than with the men who walk straight; he goes where he is needed, and, like the Master, he is a friend of publicans and sinners. But he who lifts another does not lower himself, even if he has to stoop in order to lift. In fact, I doubt if there be even the suggestion of stooping. Although the physical figure implies the act—I rather believe that the good man lifts himself when he extends his hand down to another. Let me tell you a story, one that is well known in the northern woods: