The Superintendent had come from the West on his spring round-up. New
settlements in anticipation of and following the new Railway, old
settlements in British Columbia valleys, formed twenty years ago and
forgotten, ranches of the foot-hill country, the mining camps to the
north and south of the new line--these were beginning to fire the
imagination of older Canada. Fresh from the new and wonderful land
lying west of the Great Lakes, with its spell upon him, its miseries,
its infamies, its loneliness aching in his heart, but with the
starlight of its promise burning in his eyes, he came to tell the men
of the Colleges of their duty, their privilege, their opportunity
waiting in the West. For the most part his was a voice crying in the
wilderness. Not yet had Canadians come to their faith in their Western
Empire. Among the great leaders were still found those who poured
contempt upon the project of the trans-continental railway, and even
those who favoured the scheme based their support upon political rather
than upon economic grounds. It was all so far away and all so unreal
that men who prided themselves upon being governed by shrewd business
sense held aloof from western enterprises, waiting in calm assurance
for their certain collapse. Still, here and there men like Bompas,
McLean, McDougall, and Robertson were holding high the light that fell
upon prairie and foothill, mountain peak and canyon, where speculators,
adventurers, broken men, men with shamed names seeking hiding, and
human wolves seeking their prey were pouring in.
Discouraged with the results of his work in the Eastern Colleges, the
Superintendent arrived at Knox, and to-night he stood facing the crowd
of students and their friends that filled the long Dining Hall to
overflowing. With heart hot from disappointment and voice strident with
intensity of emotion, he told of the things he had seen and heard in
that great new land. Descriptions of scenery, statistics, tales
humorous and pathetic, patriotic appeal, and prophetic vision came
pouring forth in an overwhelming flood from the great man, whose tall,
sinewy form swayed and rocked in his passion, and whose Scotch voice
burred through his sonorous periods. "For your Church, for your
fellowmen, for Canada," rang out his last appeal, and the men passed
out into the corridor toward the Entrance Hall, silent or conversing in
low, earnest tones. There was none of the usual chaffing or larking.
They had been thinking great thoughts and seeing great visions.
"I want to thank you for asking me in to-night, Lloyd," said The Don.
His voice was quiet and his fine eyes were lustrous with light. "That
man ought to be in Parliament. I shall see that country soon, I hope.
What a master he is! What a grasp! What handling of facts! There's a
great Canadian, I say, and he ought to be in Parliament."
The men gathered round, for the great 'Varsity half back was well known
and well liked in that company; but they all knew him as one of the gay
'Varsity set, and some of the older men knew, too, that in his early
college career were passages that neither he nor his friends cared to
remember. Hence all of them, but especially Shock, whom he loved, and
Lloyd, whom he greatly admired, listened with surprise to The Don's
enthusiastic words, for they both had stood beside him in those dark
days, and had played toward him the brother's part. The men waited in
silence for Lloyd's reply. They knew him to be by far the strongest man
in the college, the readiest in debate, as well as the most popular in
the pulpit; but, with the sure instinct of college men, they had come
to recognise his ambitious spirit, and, indeed, to be more influenced
by it than they would have cared to acknowledge.
"Yes," said Lloyd, "it was certainly a statesman-like address. It
contained all the elements of a great speech. But he--of
course--well--he sees only one thing--The West."
"That's right," said little Brown, who had come in at Shock's earnest
invitation, and because he was anxious to hear about the new country
from one who was coming to be recognised as an authority, "he sees one
thing sure enough. I say, what a drummer he'd make! Talk like that is
worth 100 a minute to any firm. I'll put my Governor on to him. When
that chap opened his sample case he wouldn't talk weather and politics,
and then sidle up to business. Not much! He'd give them Brown's Axle
Oil, Brown's Baking Powder, or anything else of Brown's he was showing,
till his customer would see nothing but Brown's Axle Oil and Brown's
Baking Powder all over his shop, and he'd be reaching for the whole
output. One thing! You bet!"
A general laugh of approval followed Brown's speech.
"That's true enough," said Lloyd in a tone of calm superiority, "but
there is other work to do and other places to do it in."
"The Park Church, for instance, eh, Lloyd?" suggested the voice slyly.
"Why not?" answered Lloyd. "The centres must be manned--that's a safe
principle in strategy."
"Certainly," cried another voice ironically. "Our neglected masses!"
"Yes, and neglected classes, too." Lloyd's tone was earnest and sincere.
"I agree with you, Lloyd," said The Don emphatically, "if any fellows
need to be, ah--well--shaken up, you know, it's us poor devils who
attend the city churches. For my part, I would like to see you in the
Park Church, and I promise you I would go regularly."
On all sides there was frank approval of The Don's position, while
Lloyd, flushed and laughing, lightly replied: "Oh, there won't be any
trouble, I fancy, in getting a man for the Park Church."
"Not in the least, I assure you," said Brown. "Brown Bros., Commission
Merchants, etc., etc., will undertake to supply men in half-dozen lots
willing for a consideration to offer themselves upon the altar of Park
Church."
"There's more than willingness necessary, unfortunately, and besides,
lots of men would be willing to go West," answered Lloyd.
"Yes, and lots of men deucedly unwilling, too, from what your old man
there says, not to speak of the young lady, who apparently must also be
willing. Oh! I say, wasn't that a great yarn; and if ever that chap
gets a look at himself from that particular point of view, that 'll be
the time to buy him."
"Brown, my boy," said The Don solemnly, "your limitations are obvious.
The commercial in you has run to seed."
"That may be, but I can spot a man that knows how to show his goods,
and when that old gentleman set forth the West in those high lights of
his, I tell you what, I almost wished I was a Theologue."
"What a pity you are not," replied The Don thoughtfully, "for
apparently they want strong men." At which the crowd again laughed.
"What's the matter with Shock?" suggested someone; "he's a good strong
man." There was a general laugh.
"You're the man, Shock. You would clear out those saloons."
"Can you ride a broncho, Shock?"
At the good-natured chaff Shock blushed a deeper red than usual. No one
expected much of poor Shock. Indeed, most of his classmates wondered if
he would ever "get a place," and none more than Shock himself.
But Brown, resenting the laugh and its all too evident implication,
replied indignantly: "You bet Shock's the man for the West, or any
place else where solid men are wanted, and where Shock goes there will
be something doing! And," striking an attitude, "the country will be
the better for it! Oh, I am a Canadian!" he continued, smiting his
breast dramatically. "Come along, Shock, we've got an appointment," and
Brown, linking his arm affectionately through that of his big friend,
stuck his cap on the back of his head and marched off whistling "The
Maple Leaf."
"Say!" he cried, as he passed out into the street, "won't a lot of
those fellows volunteer, or will they hunt round for a nice little bunk
in Ontario?"
"Many would like to go if they could," said Shock thoughtfully, "but
you know there are many things that must be considered."
"Young ladies, eh?" asked Brown with a laugh.
"Oh! didn't he tell that yarn well? It was great. But I'd hate to be
the fellow."
"But you are not fair," replied Shock. "A man can't answer every
appeal. He must think what he is fit for, and, in short, where he is
called to work. There's Lloyd, now--"
"Oh, Lloyd!" broke in Brown impatiently. "He's a quitter."
"Not he. He's anything but that."
"No," owned Brown, "he's not a quitter, but he puts in overtime
thinking of what's good for Lloyd. Of course, I do that sort of thing
myself, but from a fellow like Lloyd one expects something better."
Soon they were at Shock's door.
"Come in," said Shock cordially, "mother will be glad to see you."
And Brown went in.