SAVED BY THE RAFT.
HERR EBHARDT'S relations towards his son did not improve after the
scene which took place in his shop with Hans. He grew increasingly
stern and angry with Paul—found fault with his work, and constantly
watched him. Thus the boy's heart hardened towards his father, and
towards Robert too, for he looked upon him as the author of all his
misery.
What provoked the master tailor still more was that the affair oozed
out in Kösen, and became the common talk of the townspeople for some
days. Hans was exalted up to the skies—and it was well that he knew his
own shortcomings, else he might have been spoilt by the flattery—while
Paul came in for his full share of disgrace. In the meantime Robert
had his part of the odium to endure. Some said he was as much to blame
in the business as Paul, and that he ought to have confessed to the
Burgomaster and refused his prize. Robert was better able to bear these
remarks because he had Hans for his friend, and this fact disarmed the
outside chatterers, who argued that if Richter associated with Robert
Klein, he must be satisfied with the part the latter had played.
Robert offered his prize many, many times to Hans, without being able
to persuade him to accept it, and at last Frau Schmidt settled the
question by saying, "Do not ask Hans again to take your prize, Robert;
he will never consent to what you wish, and it is foolish to waste more
words over it. Keep it where you can see it constantly, for it may
prevent you from indulging in boastful feelings, and help you to walk
softly by recalling the events connected with an important period in
your life."
Paul was very angry that Hans and Robert were friends, and he would
have liked to quarrel with his former companion, but he dare not,
for even he was cowed by his father's violent temper. A crisis came
at last, which made him take a desperate step. Herr Ebhardt returned
home earlier than he was expected one afternoon, and found Paul idling
instead of completing some work which had to be done at a given time. A
stormy scene ensued, and the next morning the lad was missing, and no
one knew in which direction he had gone. His mother wept for him, his
father cursed him, but neither of them made any effort to reclaim the
wanderer.
"God grant that he may be spared long enough to see the error of his
ways!" said Hans, when Robert told him of Paul's flight. "Oh, Robert, I
wish I'd tried more earnestly to win him to Christ."
Many days sped along, and Hans became quite well and strong again.
These were happy days for Robert, who kept steadily to his business,
and tried hard to undo the bad habits of the past. It must not be
supposed that he became suddenly changed from a godless, careless boy
to an earnest, God-fearing boy; no, it was the work of days, weeks,
and months of struggle with himself against old inclinations and lazy
feelings. But he struggled in no strength of his own, but found help
for daily needs by seeking aid from heaven. Pastor Hahn became one of
his best friends; whereas, he formerly tried to run away, he now sought
to profit by what the good man said, and delighted in attending his
Sunday class and hearing him preach in the old church of Kösen.
Robert's influence told on his sisters by degrees, and at last on the
miller and his wife, who in the end became too much interested in the
truths of the Gospel to think of how their movements would be canvassed
by their neighbours, for they were more anxious to find peace with God
through Christ than to stand well with man.
The summer was ended, and autumn set in. It was a very rainy season,
and the Saale became so full that the rafts had not to wait before
shooting the weir, for the water fell over in a body and turned the old
mill wheel merrily. At one time the current ran so swiftly that some of
the foresters were afraid to bring their wood down, and Hans required
all his strength to keep those who ventured over the weir in the right
current, lest they should be swept across too rapidly.
He found himself repeatedly crying, "Stick well to the raft; stick on;
the current runs faster than usual."
At length the rain ceased, and the last day of October was ushered in
with brilliant sunshine. The river presented a busy scene. Karl Schmidt
and Hans had more business to do than they could well manage, and were
glad when the shades of evening fell, and thus prevented the raftsmen
from going on their way, and obliged them to rest at Kösen until the
following morning. So it came to pass that many rafts were moored above
and below the old bridge.
Schmidt had gone into the town on business, and Hans was sitting in the
toll-house parlour, feeling very weary and sleepy, when Robert entered.
"I didn't mean to call in this evening," he said, "because I knew you
would be tired, but I was obliged to come and tell you the good news.
See what I've got!" And he pointed to a long narrow parcel.
"What is it?" asked Hans.
"Something for you."
"For me?"
"Yes, for you, and it's from father. But before you take off the paper,
you must let me tell you all about it. You know, Hans, I've never
been quite happy about the Burgomaster's prize, and though I've said
nothing about it for a long time, I always wanted to make up for it.
The other day father offered me money as a reward for being so steady
at business, and then I told him what I would rather have than all the
money he could give me; and here is what I wanted. Undo it."
Hans unfastened the long unwieldy parcel, wondering what it contained.
But when it was free from its covering, and he lifted up the lid of the
narrow box, his eyes sparkled with pleasure, for there was such a bow
and such arrows as he had never seen the like of before.
"They are for you," exclaimed Robert. "Your hand is quite well now, and
next year we'll shoot as friends for the prize; or I will shoot, and
you shall win as easily as I did last time."
"This for me, Robert? How kind of you! It must have cost a lot of
money; why, it's much better than my master's."
"Never mind what it cost, Hans; that's father's business. He ordered
it from Halle, for we have an uncle there who understands what's what.
Then you really like it?"
"Like it, Robert! Why how can I help liking such a splendid present?
But I don't think I ought to take it, for you've denied yourself a good
deal to give it me."
"And I wish you would tell me who in the world I should deny myself for
like you? I owe you almost everything, Hans, for you taught me to love
and serve God, and made me first think. You saved me."
"Not I, Robert, but Christ in me," answered Hans, reverently. "If I had
not found the treasure first, I should not have known its worth."
"You're right, as you always are. Oh, I'm so happy! But I mustn't stay
too late, for I promised father to cast up some bills we've been too
busy to look after during the day. I shall go home as I came, over the
bridge. It was too dark and foggy and the current too strong to bring
out the boat."
"Is it foggy?" exclaimed Hans, moving towards the door. "I'd no idea of
it. How suddenly it must have come on; and after such a glorious day
too. The fact is, I'm so tired that unless you'd come in, I should have
fallen asleep. Why, the mist is so thick you cannot see a few yards
before you," he added, looking out. "You'd better not venture into it;
you'll be walking into the river."
"Don't be afraid," laughed Robert. "I know every inch of the road."
"So you may, but in a fog like this it's very easy to make a mistake; I
only wish my master was safe at home," said Hans, anxiously.
Robert walked away from the toll-house, but he soon had to slacken his
pace. He managed to reach the weir, and now he had a little distance
to traverse by the river-side before he came to a narrow pathway which
led him to the foot of the bridge. He had to grope his way carefully
along, for at every step he took the fog grew denser. At last, he stood
still and wished he had a torch; he would gladly have returned to the
toll-house, but it was as difficult to make his way back as to go
forward.
"Courage, courage," he said to himself. "I won't be a coward, after
boasting to Hans that I was not afraid."
But with all his care and knowledge of "every inch of the road," he
crept so close to the river's bank, which is steep at this point, that
he lost his footing, and though he made a tremendous effort to save
himself from falling, he could not regain his balance.
Robert could swim. He was paralysed for a few moments by feeling the
waters close round him, then he knew that he was being hurried along
by the stream. He tried to struggle into smoother water, but failed.
So all he could do was to cry, "Help, help!" and keep away from the
bridge. This he just managed to accomplish, but he grew weaker every
minute. When he was past the bridge, he made a last effort to get clear
of the current, and this time he succeeded, for as he struck out, he
clasped something with his hands.
It was a raft, which had swung round at its moorings. He had only
strength enough left to crawl on to it; but he was saved from a watery
grave.
Hans longed for his master to return; he looked out of the door again
and again, but he heard no sound of approaching footsteps. He felt very
uneasy, too, on Robert's account, and debated whether it would be well
to take a light with him and go out, but then he could not leave Frau
Schmidt alone in the house. At last, he carried a wooden table outside
the door and set a lamp upon it, then he went up to the frau's room and
chatted with her, she meanwhile wondering why her son was so late.
Hans did not tell her that he was uneasy at his master's absence
because there was a thick mist over the river; though while he tried
to amuse her, he was straining every nerve to discover if Herr Schmidt
were coming.
At last they heard his well-known step, and a few moments afterwards,
he entered the room.
"I'm sorry to have kept you awake so much over your usual hour,
mother," he said. "But when you know why I have been detained, you will
not be surprised. It was clever of you, Hans, to put the lamp outside
to guide me home. Did you suggest it, mother?"
"The frau doesn't know about the fog," interrupted Hans.
"Well done, my boy; it was thoughtful of you to save her the anxiety.
Now, mother, let me explain everything: you may well look as if we were
speaking in an unknown tongue. The heavy rains and the hot sun have
brought about such a dense mist as I have only seen twice before in my
life; it is so dense that if I had not borrowed a torch, I could not
have found my way. That good lad kept his anxiety to himself, but set
up a beacon outside the house for me; he lighted the great lamp and put
it on a table, or I might have groped about for some time longer, or
perhaps have done as Robert did, walked into the river. But he's quite
safe, now," added Karl, "though he has had a great shock."
"What has happened?" asked Hans, eagerly. "He was here this evening,
and I wanted him so much not to go out in the fog."
"On his way from here, then, it must have been, that he fell in the
river. As I was nearing the bridge I heard cries for help, so I made
my way to the spot from whence they came as well as I could, and two
or three others with torches joined me; we had a hard matter to find
the lad, and but for the mist lifting just at the right moment, Robert
might have laid on the raft until morning. I carried him home and
waited until he became conscious."
"Poor fellow!" said Frau Schmidt. "He must have missed his way. I thank
God he is saved."
"I do thank God," added Hans. "And was he really saved by a raft?"
"Yes, saved by a raft," reiterated Karl. "Now, mother, let us have our
evening reading."
Robert was so much shaken by his accident, that two days passed before
he was permitted to see Hans.
The friends were delighted to meet again, and had a long and serious
conversation together, for Robert's heart was full of gratitude to God
for his deliverance from death.
"We have been talking so hard," said Hans, just before he left, "that
I have not yet asked you how you managed to hold on to the raft as you
did, until help came."
"I don't think I held on; I had just enough strength to crawl on to the
top, and then I suppose I became unconscious."
"Still you were saved by a raft!"
"Yes," answered Robert; "the raft in its double meaning has been my
best friend. There is the raft of wood which saved me when strength was
fast failing; there is that almighty Raft which upholds me day by day,
and which I can cling to at all times—even the Lord Jesus Christ."
"Old fellow, my mother's words will have a deeper meaning than ever to
us both after this," said Hans, earnestly. "You and I will indeed feel
the truth of what we say when we cry on behalf of ourselves and all
men, 'STICK TO THE RAFT.'"
[Illustration]
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LONDON: B. K. BURT AND CO., PRINTERS.