Chapter L: C. Page & Company (4)

It was the talk of the valley--this pilgrimage of Baptist Sloan's. Nobody within its borders had ever been out of sight of land, and the congregation divided itself into two factions regarding him. One division called it sinful pride that sent him chasing away to parts unknown on such an errand. Beargrass Creek was good enough for Bap Sloan's immersion, if it had been good enough for his father's and grandfather's before him. The other side agreed with Luella, according him the halo, and she, in the reflected light of such greatness, beamed proudly and importantly on all her little world.

Several weeks after this disclosure he stopped at the cottage one morning in great excitement. He held a letter in his hand, some railroad time-tables, and the itinerary of a "personally conducted" party to Palestine. "I say, Luella," he cried, "look at this! It's clear providence that the Paris Exposition happened to start up just now. Here's a chance to go to the Jordan on excursion rates, with three days at the Exposition thrown in. I needn't wait till after wheat harvest now, it's so much cheaper than what I had figured on. And the beauty of it is, I can not only kill two birds with one stone,--take in Paris and Palestine both,--but have a guide to look after everything. It's been a mystery to me all along how I was to find my way around in those furrin parts by myself. But this settles everything. I can start to New York next Wednesday, and get there before the ship sails. _Lord_, Luella! To think it's really comin' to pass after all these years!"

Luella was in a quiver of excitement, but she rose to the occasion with almost motherly solicitude for his well-being. "I'll put up your lunch, Bap," she said. "You needn't worry about a thing; only tell me what you'd like to have cooked. And if you've any clothes that need mending, just you bring 'em right down, and I'll see to 'em. I'll go over to your house after you've gone, too, and fix things ready to be left shut up for the time you're away."

Her prompt decision was so much like his sister Sarah's that he never thought of protesting. It seemed good to be managed once more, and he meekly acquiesced to all she proposed.

Luella had a sharp tongue, but it had lost its sting for him since she had put him on the pedestal of hero and saint. But it had not lost its cutting qualities when turned on other people.

"What's this big empty sarsaparilla bottle doing in your carpet-bag?" she demanded suddenly on the day of his departure.

"Old Mis' Bates wants that I should take it along and fill it at the Jordan. She's countin' on havin' all the family baptized out of it when I get back."

"Out of one quart bottle!" sniffed Luella, scornfully. "Humph! Just like the Bateses. Much good any one of 'em will get out of such a stingy sprinkling. Why didn't you tell her you couldn't be bothered with it? You always was the kind to be imposed on, Bap Sloan. If I wasn't so afraid of water that horses couldn't pull me on to a ship, I'd go along to look after you. _Do_ take care of yourself!"

And that was the chorus shouted after him as he swung himself up the car-steps, stumbling over his carpet-bag and big cotton umbrella. Fully two thirds of the congregation were down at the station to bid him good-bye. In the midst of the general hand-shaking some one started a hymn, and the last words that Bap Sloan heard, as he hung out of the train window to wave his hat, were:

"By the grace of God we'll meet you
On Jordan's happy shore!"

There was one last look at Luella, wildly waving a limp wet handkerchief. The sight so affected him that he had to draw out his bandana and violently blow his nose; but he smiled as the train went leaping down the track. All the weary waiting was over at last, and his face was set toward his Promised Land.

* * * * *

Several days later, in one of the southbound trains pulling out of New York, the conductor noticed a man sitting with his head bowed in his hands. His soft slouch-hat was pulled over his eyes, and an antiquated carpet-bag and big cotton umbrella were piled on the seat beside him. Except when he showed his ticket, there was no change in his attitude. Mile after mile he rode, never lifting his head, the hopeless droop of his bowed shoulders seeming to suggest that some burden had been laid upon them too great for a mortal to bear.

Night came, and he slept at intervals. Then his head fell back against the cushion of the seat, and one could see how haggard and worn was the face heretofore hidden. In the gray light of the early morning the conductor passed again and turned to give a second glance at the furrowed face with its unshaven chin, unconsciously dropped, and the gray, uncombed hair straggling over the forehead. Even in sleep it wore an expression of abject hopelessness, and looked ten years older than when, only three days before, it smiled good-bye to the singing crowd at Beargrass Valley station. Baptist Sloan was homeward bound, and yet he had not so much as even seen the ship which was to have carried him to his Jordan.

It was only the repetition of an old story--old as the road going down from Jerusalem to Jericho. He had fallen among thieves. In the bewilderment and daze which fell upon him when he found himself alone in a great city, he had been easy prey for confidence men. There had been a pretended arrest. He had been taken into custody by a man who showed his badge and assumed to be a private detective. Sure that he could prove his innocence, and smiling grimly as he compared himself once more to a harmless sheep in wolf's clothing, he allowed himself, without an outcry, to be bundled into a carriage that was to take him to the police station. When he came to himself it was morning, and he was on the steps of a cellar, with every pocket empty. He had been robbed of his little fortune, stripped bare of his lifelong hope.

How he was at last started homeward with a ticket in his hand could have been explained by a young newspaper reporter who interviewed him exhaustively at the police station, whither he finally found his way. The reporter made a good story of it, touching up its homely romance with effective sketching; and then because he had come from the same State as Baptist Sloan, because he had once lived on a farm and knew an honest man when he saw one, he loaned him the money that was to take this disabled knight errant home with his mortal wound.

It was on the afternoon of the second day that Baptist Sloan opened his old carpet-bag for the remnants of the lunch that Luella had packed inside. His hand struck against Mrs. Bates's sarsaparilla bottle, and he shut his eyes with a sickening sensation of inward sinking.

"And I've got to take that there thing back to her _empty_," he said, gritting his teeth. "Where am I ever goin' to get the spunk to face 'em all? They'll say it was a judgment on me, for a good many of 'em seemed to think that I was too proud to be baptized in Beargrass. They'll say that maybe it's to save me from fallin' short of heaven that I failed to reach the Jordan."

As he slowly munched the dry remains of his lunch, the cogs of the car-wheels started anew the question that had tormented him all the way. "What _will_-Lu-_el_-la _say_? What _will_-Lu-_el_-la _say_?" they shrieked over and over.

"She'll say that I'm an awful fool," he told himself. "She never could abide to be laughed at, and if people poke fun at me, she'll never have me in the world." The alternate hope and despair that seized him were like the deadly burning and chill of fever and ague. "If I only knew how _she'd_ take it!" was his inward cry. When he thought of her proverbial sharp tongue he quailed at the ordeal of meeting her. But through every interval of doubt came the fragrance of the moonlighted apple-orchard, the old stile, that one kiss--a remembrance as sweet as the blossom-time itself. Surely Luella must think of that.

Presently he noticed that the brakeman was calling out the names of familiar stations, and he realized that he was almost home. Only a few minutes more to summon his courage and brace himself for his trial. The train rumbled over a trestle, and peering out through the gathering dusk he saw the shallow waters of Beargrass Creek, black with the reflection of the evening shadows. "The only Jordan Bap Sloan will ever see now," he said, with a shiver that sent a tremor through his bowed shoulders.

"Beargrass Valley!" he heard the brakeman call. Nervously he clutched his carpet-bag and umbrella, and lurched down the aisle. But when the train stopped and he was half-way down the steps, he paused and clung an instant to the railing. "O Lord!" he groaned once more, involuntarily shrinking back. "If women wa'n't so awfully oncertain! If I just _knew_ what Luella's goin' to say!"

As Baptist Sloan clicked the latch of his front gate behind him, and stood a moment in the path, the familiar outlines of his old home rising up in the dim light smote him with fresh pain. The thirty years of hope and struggle were there to meet him with accusing faces and to turn his home-coming into bitterness unspeakable--such bitterness as only those can know who have cringed under the slow heartbreak of utter failure. He did not even unlock the door, but dropping his carpet-bag and umbrella on the porch floor, sank down into the old wooden rocker, covering his face with his hands.

It was in this attitude that Luella found him an hour later, when she came hurrying down the path with quick, fluttering steps. The moonlight, struggling through the vines on the porch, showed her the object of her search.

"I just now heard you was home!" she cried, with a nervous little laugh. "It was in the evening paper, all about it. The doctor stopped by and showed it to me."

She paused on the top step, out of breath, and awed by the rigid despair showing in every line of the silent figure. She had divined that he might need comfort, but she was not prepared for such desolation as this. Silently she took another step toward him, then another, and laid her hand timidly on his shoulder. His only response was a long, shivering sigh.

"Oh, Bap, _don't_!" she cried. "Don't take it like _that_!"

"I've give' up," he said dully. "Seems as if it wa'n't worth while to go on living any longer, when I've made such an awful failure. It's the hope of a lifetime blasted, and I can't help feelin' that some way or 'nother mother knows it, too, and is disappointed in me."

She gathered the bowed head in her arms, and pressing it toward her, began stroking it with soothing touches, as tenderly as if she had been that disappointed mother.

"There, there!" she sobbed, with a choking voice. "You sha'n't say that again. The world might count it a failure, same as they would a race-horse that didn't get under the wire first. But what if you didn't get there, Bap, _think how you ran_! You went just as far as the Lord let you, and nobody can count it a failure when He stepped in and stopped you. Look at Moses! He didn't get to his Promised Land either. Maybe it ain't right for me to make Bible comparisons, but you went just as far as he did, where you could stand and look over, and I'm proud of you _for_ it. It's a sight farther than most people get."

There was tender silence for a little space, then she descended from the Pisgah on which she had placed him and came down to the concerns of every-day life. When she spoke again it was with her usual bustling air of authority.

"Here, I've brought the key," she said. "Stick your carpet-bag inside the door, and come home with me. Jordan or no Jordan, you've got to have a cup of tea and a good hot supper."

THE END.

WORKS OF ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS (Trade Mark)

_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_

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THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES (Trade Mark)

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THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION (Trade Mark)

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MARY WARE IN TEXAS

_These eleven volumes, with The Little Colonel's Good Times Book, boxed as a twelve-volume set_, $18.00.

THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark)

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY

THE GIANT SCISSORS

BIG BROTHER

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New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in color, and many marginal sketches.

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN.

THE THREE WEAVERS: A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS.

KEEPING TRYST

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART

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THE JESTERS SWORD

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There has been a constant demand for publication in separate form of these six stories which were originally included in six of the "Little Colonel" books.

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE: BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman.

New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel
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A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's best-known books.

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Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.

Published in response to many inquiries from readers of the Little Colonel books as to where they could obtain a "Good Times Book" such as Betty kept.

THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK

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A series of "Little Colonel" dolls,--not only the Little Colonel herself, but Betty and Kitty and Mary Ware, yes, and Rob, Phil, and many another of the well-loved characters,--even Mom' Beck herself. There are many of them and each has several changes of costume, so that the happy group can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series.

The large, cumbersome sheets of most of the so-called doll "books" have been discarded, and instead each character, each costume, occupies a sheet by itself, the dolls and costumes being cut out only as they are wanted.

ASA HOLMES: OR, AT THE CROSS-ROADS. A sketch of Country Life and Country Humor. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.

With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.

Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00

"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, most sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long while."--_Boston Times._

TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFE'S HIGHWAY. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.

With a frontispiece in color from a painting by Edmund
H. Garrett. 12mo, cloth decorative $1.25

In her new book, written with the same grace and ease that have distinguished her former works, Mrs. Johnston introduces five travelers along life's highway. The characters are all so different--some humorous, some pathetic--and yet all so very real, that their progress along the road will afford entertainment and pleasure. The book is full of life and action.

COSY CORNER SERIES

It is the intention of the publishers that this series
shall contain only the very highest and purest
literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the
children themselves, but be appreciated by all those
who feel with them in their joys and sorrows.

The numerous illustrations in each book are by
well-known artists, and each volume has a separate
attractive cover design.

Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50

_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_

THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark.)

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region.

THE GIANT SCISSORS

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays."

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY

WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."

MILDRED'S INHERITANCE

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.

CICELY AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS

The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for young people.

AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER STORIES

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BIG BROTHER

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Stephen, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.

OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT

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THE STORY OF DAGO

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THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT

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FLIP'S ISLANDS OF PROVIDENCE

A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, well worth the reading.

From L. C. Page & Company's Announcement List of New Fiction

THE STORY GIRL

By L. M. MONTGOMERY.

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated, decorative jacket $1.50

To quote from one of our editor's reports on the new Montgomery book--"Miss Montgomery has decidedly _arrived_ in this story!" The remarkable success of her delightful ANNE books and of the charming "Kilmeny of the Orchard" has established her as one of America's leading authors--a writer of books which touch the heart, uplift the spirit, and leave an imprint of lasting sweetness on the memory. But in "The Story Girl," everywhere the touch of the _finished_ artist is evident--a smoothness and polish which heightens the unusual style of a gifted author.

The environment is again the author's beloved Prince Edward Island and the story and incidents possess the same simplicity and charm which characterize Miss Montgomery's earlier books. The Story Girl, herself--Sara Stanley--is a fascinating creature, and will delight and thrill her readers with her weird tales of ghosts "and things." She tells in wondrous voice of "The Mystery of the Golden Milestone," "How Kissing Was Discovered," and of just how the Milky Way happened into the heavens. She will make you feel the spell of the old orchard where she and her playmates spend such happy days, and with Felix, Dan and Beverly you will live again with her the "tragedies of childhood."

Of Miss Montgomery's previous books, the reviewers have written as follows:

"The art which pervades every page is so refined that the cultivated imagination will return to the story again and again in memory to find always something fresh to enjoy."--_Toronto World._

"Miss Montgomery has attained an honored place among the worth-while writers of fiction."-_-Beacon and Budget._

"Miss Montgomery has a sympathetic knowledge of human nature, joined to high ideals, a reasonably romantic view point and a distinct gift of description."--_Chicago Record-Herald._

A CAPTAIN OF RALEIGH'S

By G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS, author of "A Cavalier of Virginia," "Comrades of the Trails," "Red Feathers," etc. Cloth, 12mo, illustrated, decorative jacket

_Net_ $1.25 (carriage, 13c. extra)

A typical Roberts romance--dashing and brisk with the scenes for the most part laid in the infant colony of Newfoundland, at the time when Sir Walter Raleigh and other famous captains swept the seas for England. Sir Walter is one of the characters in the romance but the chief interest centres about one of his officers, Captain John Percy.

Elizabeth Duwaney, the heroine, is beautiful and vivacious enough to quite turn the heads of the several gallant gentlemen who struggle for her hand, and to keep the reader guessing until the very last page as to which suitor will find favor in her eyes. Unusual and unexpected situations in the plot are handled skilfully and you close the book agreeing with our editor that "Mr. Roberts has given us another capital yarn!"

"Mr. Roberts has undoubted skill in portraying character and carrying events along to a satisfactory conclusion."--_The Smart Set._

"One can always predict of a book by Mr. Roberts that it will be interesting. One can go further and predict that the book will be fascinating, exciting and thrilling."--_Boston Globe._

A SOLDIER OF VALLEY FORGE

By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author of "An Enemy to the King," "Philip Winwood," etc., and G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS, author of "Hemming, the Adventurer," "Red Feathers," etc.

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50

The many admirers of the brilliant historical romances of the late Robert Neilson Stephens will be gratified at the announcement of a posthumous work by that gifted writer. The rough draft of the story was laid aside for other work, and later, without completing the novel, the plot was utilized for a play. With the play completed Mr. Stephens again turned his attention to the novel, but death prevented its completion. Mr. Roberts has handled his difficult task of completing the work with care and skill.

The story, like that of "The Continental Dragoon," takes as its theme an incident in the Revolution, and, as in the earlier novel, the scene is the "debatable ground" north of New York. In interest of plot and originality of development it is as remarkable as the earlier work, but it is more mature, more forceful, more _real_.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Repeated chapter titles were deleted to avoid redundancy for the reader.

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Varied hyphenation, as in coffin-plates and coffin plates was retained.