The Lumberjack Sky Pilot

by Thomas D. Whittles

From one side of the walk to the other the powerful logger dragged the husky preacher, and as they continued through the streets the blasphemy and filth flowed on. It was the expected that happened; a representative of law and order threatened to lock up both pedestrians in the city jail—for the logger dragged the minister in his zig-zag course and both appeared drunken. But in spite of the rough clothes, the policeman soon recognized the Sky Pilot and placed the city jail at his disposal while waiting for the south bound train.

When A—— realized he was in the police station his temper suddenly arose and he rushed with closed fist at his companion. Mr. Higgins anticipated the attack and deftly stepped aside. The heavy blow fell on the panel of the station door, and a split panel and bruised knuckles were the results.

After some hours Minneapolis was reached, a cab took them to the Institute and the worst was over.

The minister and the patient entered the big rest room of the Institute just as the bell signaled the patients to prepare for treatment. The inmates began to remove their coats and to roll up their shirt sleeves so that the treatment could be injected into their arms. The removing of coats pleased A——, for it savored of a fight and he began to prepare for a conflict. Hastily he removed his coat and with raised guard and closed fist staggeringly advanced towards the coatless men who had fallen into line to march past the doctor. Instead of the anticipated fight, A—— received his first treatment,—the course in the Keeley Cure had begun.

Several years have passed since the above incident, but A—— is still a sober man. Respected for his ability, honored by those who employ him, he stands high in the confidence of one of the largest lumber companies, and large interests are in his hands. While not a professing Christian, yet he is a strong advocate of temperance, for, having known the degradation of drink, he now appreciates the virtue of sobriety.

*****

Quebec, with its French population, raises many loyal Catholic sons. The training of the province does not develop a bias towards Protestantism. Anything savoring of it is distasteful to them, due to centuries of training. When these sons migrate to the woods of Minnesota the inherited and trained prejudice is likely to accompany them. On the above paragraph a story hinges.

In the north woods of Tenstrike worked a French Canadian, whom, for obvious reasons as well as convenience, we will call "Old Quebec." Now, "Old Quebec" was neither a scholar nor a fool. He knew a few things, and the many things of which he knew nothing did not disturb his mental bias or unsettle his decision. He was a man of likes and dislikes and he gave his whole strength to either; he never asked himself whether his likes or dislikes were reasonable, he was simply satisfied to be out-and-out in opposition or comradeship. What he hated he cursed; what he respected he was always on hand to assist. Well, he cursed the Sky Pilot whenever he saw him.

"Old Quebec" had no love for religion of any kind, but if a man wished to profess any spiritual relationship, Quebec was so trained that only Catholicism was acceptable to him. Therefore, when the Rev. Frank E. Higgins came to the camp in which Old Quebec worked the Frenchman thought him a non-entity because he was religious and a fool because he was not a Catholic. If you had asked Old Quebec, "Aren't you prejudiced?" he would have laughed, probably have sworn you out of countenance, and in his blasphemous way have given you the information, "What I know I know." His answer would have satisfied him and his profanity have settled you.

So, at the meeting, on the missionary's first appearance, Old Quebec did all he could to disturb and interfere. When asked to give the others the privilege of hearing, he replied with a torrent of invective, blasphemy and vulgarity that shocked the ears of every decent man in the camp. Now there are some men whom one can not easily eject. Old Quebec was probably one of these, at least, the missionary decided that discretion was the better part of valor. For once there were two speakers at the meeting, and Mr. Higgins, being more accustomed to public speaking, won out.