Burned Bridges by Bertrand W. Sinclair (win 10 ebook reader .TXT) 📖

From A Snowshoe,  Scarce. I'd Like Tae

Be Aboot When 'Tis Forty Below--An' Gettin' Colder. I'm Thinkin' He'd

Relish A Taste O' Hell-Fire Then,  For A Change--Eh,  Mike?"

 

The Two Of Them Went Off Into A Fit Of Silent Laughter,  For The Abysmal

Ignorance Of Wesley Thompson Concerning Practical Things,  His Awkward

Length Of Body,  His Student's Pallor That The Athabasca Sun Had Played

Such Havoc With,  His Blue Eyes That Looked So Often With Trepidation Or

Amazement On The Commonplaces Of Their World,  His General Incapacity And

Blind Belief That An All-Wise Providence Would Personally Intervene To

Make Things Go Right When They Went Wrong,  Had Not Struck These Two

Hardy Children Of The Solitudes As Other Than A Side-Splitting Joke.

 

"He Rises I' The Mornin'," Macdonald Continued,  "Win' A Word Frae The

Book Aboot The Lord Providin',  An' He'd Starve If Nabody Was By T' Cook

Chapter 1 (The First Problem) Pg 11

His Meal. He Canna Build A Fire Wi'oot Scorchin' His Fingers. He Lays

Hold O' A Paddle Like A Three Months' Babby. He Bids Ye Pit Yer Trust I'

The Lord,  An' Himself Rises Up Wi' A Start Every Time A Wolf Raises The

Long Howl At Nicht. I Didna Believe There Was Ever Sae Helpless A

Creature. An' For A' That He's The Laddie That's Here Tae Show The

Heathen--Thae Puir,  Sinfu' Heathen,  Mind Ye--How Tae Find Grace. No That

He's Any Doot Aboot Bein' Equal Tae The Job. For A' That He's Nigh

Helpless I' The Woods He Was Forever Ying-Yangin' At Me An' Mike For

What He Ca's Sinfu' Pride In Oor Ain' Persons. I've A Notion That If Yon

Had A Bit O' That Same Sinfu' Pride He'd Be The Better Able Tae Make His

Way."

 

Old Macphee Took The Blackened Clay Pipe From His Mouth And Puffed A

Blue Spiral Into The Dead,  Sultry Air. A Sour Expression Gathered About

His Withered Lips.

 

"Dinna Gibe At Yon Puir Mortal," He Rebuked. "Ye Canna Keep Fools Frae

Wanderin'. I've Seen Manny's The Man Like Him. It's Likely That Once

He's Had A Fair Taste O' The North He'll Be Less A Saint An' More A

Man."

 

The Afternoon Was Far Spent When They Landed. Breyette And Macdonald

Made Themselves Comfortable With Their Backs Against The Wall. Supper

Came And Was Eaten. Evening Closed In. The Bold,  Scorching Stare Of The

Sun Faded. Little Cooling Breezes Fluttered Along The Lake Shore,

Banishing The Last Trace Of That Brassy Heat. Men Who Had Lounged

Indoors,  Or Against Shaded Walls Roamed About,  And Half-Breed Women

Chattered In Voluble Gutturals Back And Forth Between The Cabins.

 

 

 

Chapter 2 (The Deserted Cabin) Pg 12

In The Factor's Comfortable Quarters Mr. Thompson Sat Down To The First

Meal He Had Thoroughly Relished In Two Weeks. A Corner Of The Verandah

Was Screened Off With Wire Netting. Outside That Barrier Mosquitoes And

Sandflies Buzzed And Swarmed In Futile Activity. Within Stood An Easy

Chair Or Two And A Small Table Which Was Presently Spread With A Linen

Cloth,  Set With Porcelain Dishes,  And Garnished With Silverware. All The

Way Down The Athabasca Thompson Had Found Every Meal Beset With

Exasperating Difficulties,  Fruitful Of Things That Offended Both His

Stomach And His Sense Of Fitness. He Had Not Been Able To Accommodate

Himself To The Necessity Of Juggling A Tin Plate Beside A Campfire,  Of

Eating With One Hand And Fending Off Flies With The Other. Also He

Objected To Grains Of Sand And Particles Of Ash And Charred Wood Being

Incorporated With Bread And Meat. Neither Breyette Nor Macdonald Seemed

To Mind. But Thompson Had Never Learned To Adapt Himself To Conditions

That Were Unavoidable. Pitchforked Into A Comparatively Primitive Mode

Chapter 2 (The Deserted Cabin) Pg 13

Of Existence And Transportation His First Reaction To It Took The Form

Of Offended Resentment. There Were Times When He Forgot Why He Was

There,  Enduring These Things. After Such A Lapse He Prayed For Guidance

And A Patient Heart.

 

These Creature Comforts Now At Hand Were In A Measure What He Had Been

Accustomed To,  What He Had,  With No Thought On The Matter,  Taken As The

Accepted And Usual Order Of Things,  Save That His Needs Had Been

Administered By Two Prim And Elderly Spinster Aunts Instead Of A

Black-Browed Scotchman And A Half-Breed Servant Girl.

 

Thompson Sat Back After His Supper,  Fanning Himself With An Ancient

Newspaper,  For The Day's Heat Still Lingered. Across The Table On Which

He Rested An Elbow Macleod,  Bearded,  Aggressive,  Capable,  Regarded His

Guest With Half-Contemptuous Pity Under Cover Of The Gathering Dusk.

Macleod Smoked A Pipe. Thompson Chewed The Cud Of Reflection.

 

"And So," The Factor Began Suddenly,  "Ye Are A Missionary To The Lone

Moose Crees. It Will Be A Thankless Task; A Tougher One Nor I'd Care To

Tackle. I Ha' Seen The Job Undertaken Before By Folk Who--Beggin' Your

Pardon--Ha' Little Conception Of The Country,  The People In It,  Or The

Needs Of Either. Ye'll Find The Cree Has More Concern For Meat An'

Clothes,  For Traps An' Powder,  Than He Has For His Soul. Ye'll

Understand This Better When Ye Ha' More Experience In The North. Indeed,

It's No Impossible Ye Might Come To The Same Way Of Thinkin' In Time."

 

The Dusk Hid The Shocked Expression That Gathered On Thompson's Face.

 

"'What Shall It Profit A Man To Gain The Whole World If He Knoweth Not

God?'" He Quoted Gravely. "The Priests Of The Catholic Church Have Long

Carried On Missionary Work Among These Tribes. We Of The Protestant

Faith Would Be Lacking If We Did Not Try To Extend Our Field,  If We Made

No Effort To Bear Light Into The Dark Places. Man's Spiritual Need Is

Always Greater Than Any Material Need Can Ever Be. I Hardly Expect To

Accomplish A Great Deal At First. But The Work Will Grow."

 

"I See,  I See," Macleod Chuckled Dryly. "It's Partly A Matter Of The

Methodist Church Tryin' To Compete With The Fathers,  Eh? Well,  I Am No

What Ye'd Call Devout. I Ha' Had Much Experience Wi' These Red Folk,  An'

Them That's Both Red An' White. An' I Dinna Agree With Ye Aboot Their

Speeritual Needs. I Think Ye Sky-Pilots Would Do Better To Leave Them To

Their Ain Gods,  Such As They Are. Man,  Do Ye Know That It's Better Than

A Century Since The Fathers Began Their Missionary Labors? A Hundred

Years Of Teachin' An' Preachin'. The Sum Of It A' Is Next To

Nothin'--An' Naebody Knows That Better Than The Same Fathers. They're

Wise,  Keen-Sighted Men,  Too. What Good They Do They Do In A Material

Way. If Men Like Ye Came Here Wi' Any Certitude Of Lightenin' The

Struggle For Existence--But Ye Canna Do That; Or At Least Ye Dinna Do

That. Ye'll Find That Neither Red Men Nor White Ha' Time Or Inclination

To Praise The Lord An' His Grace An' Bounty When Their Life's One Long

Struggle Wi' Hardships An' Adversity. The God Ye Offer Them Disna

Mitigate These Things. Forbye That,  The Indian Disna Want To Be

Christianized. When Ye Come To A Determination Of Abstract Qualities,

His Pagan Beliefs Are As Good For Him As The God Of The Bible. What

Right Ha' We To Cram Oor Speeritual Dogmas Doon His Gullet?"

 

Chapter 2 (The Deserted Cabin) Pg 14

Macleod Applied Himself To Relighting His Pipe. Thompson Gathered

Himself Together. He Was Momentarily Stricken With Speechless Amazement.

He Knew There Were Such Things As Critical Unbelievers,  But He Had Never

Encountered One In The Flesh. His Life Had Been Too Excellently

Supervised And Directed In Youth By The Spinster Aunts. Nor Does

Materialistic Philosophy Flourish In A Theological Seminary. Young Men

In Training For The Ministry Are Taught To Strangle Doubt Whenever It

Rears Its Horrid Head,  To See Only With The Single Eye Of Faith.

 

Neither The Bitterness Of Experience Nor A Natural Gentleness Of Spirit

Had Ever Permitted Thompson To Know The Beauty And Wisdom Of Tolerance.

Whosoever Disputed His Creed And His Consecrated Purpose Must Be In

Error. The Evangelical Spirit Glowed Within Him When He Faced The Factor

Across The Little Table. Figuratively Speaking He Cleared For Action.

His Host,  Being A Hard-Headed Son Of A Disputatious Race,  Met Him More

Than Half-Way. As A Result Midnight Found Them Still Wordily Engaged,

One Maintaining With Emotional Fervor That Man's Spiritual Welfare Was

The End And Aim Of Human Existence; The Other As Outspoken--If More

Calmly And Critically So--In His Assertion That A Tooth-And-Toenail

Struggle For Existence Left No Room In Any Rational Man's Life For The

Manner Of Religion Set Forth In General By Churches And Churchmen. The

Edge Of Acrimony Crept Into The Argument.

 

"The Lord Said,  'Leave All Thou Hast And Follow Me,'" Thompson Declared.

"My Dear Sir,  You Cannot Dispute--"

 

"Ay,  But Yon Word Was Said Eighteen Hundred Years Past," Macleod

Interrupted. "Since Which Day There's Been A Fair Rate O' Progress In

Man's Knowledge Of Himself An' His Needs. The Biblical Meeracles In The

Way O' Provender Dinna Happen Nowadays--Although Some Ither Modern

Commonplaces Would Partake O' The Meeraculous If We Didna Have A

Rational Knowledge Of Their Process. Men Are No Fed Wi' Loaves And

Fishes Until They Themselves Ha' First Gotten The Loaves An' The Fish.

At Least,  It Disna So Happen I' The Pachugan Deestreect. It's Much The

Same The World Over,  But Up Here Especially Ye'll Find That The Problem

O' Subsistence Is First An' Foremost,  An' Excludes A' Else Till It's

Solved."

 

With This Macleod,  Weary Of An Unprofitable Controversy,  Arose,  Took Up

A Candle And Showed His Scandalized Guest The Way To Bed.

 

Thompson Was Full Of A Willingness To Revive The Argument When He Was

Roused For Breakfast At Sunrise. But Macleod Had Said