"Don, Don, me's tumin'," and the baby of the farm, a little child with
sunny curls and laughing eyes, ran past the great barns of Hollywood.
John Randolph was swinging along the green road with a bridle over his
arm, whistling softly. He turned as the childish voice was borne to him
on the breeze. "All right, Nansie, wait for me at the gate." Then he
sprang over the fence and crossed the field to where a group of horses
were feeding.
The child climbed up on the gate beside a saddle which John had placed
there and waited patiently. He soon came back, leading a magnificent bay
horse, and began to adjust the saddle.
"Now, Nan, I'll give you a ride to the house. Can't go any further
to-day, for I have to cross the river."
The child shook her head confidently. "Me 'll go too, Don."
"I'm afraid not, Nan. The river is so deep, we'll have to swim for it.
That is why I chose Neptune, you see."
"Me's not 'fraid, wiv 'oo, Don."
"Better wait, Baby, till the river is low. Well, come along then," as
the wily schemer drew down her pretty lips into the aggrieved curve
which always conquered his big, soft heart. She clapped her hands with
glee, as he lifted her in front of him and started Neptune into a brisk
trot, and made a bridle for herself out of the horse's silky mane.
"Gee, gee, Nepshun. Nan loves you, dear."
When they reached the fording place John's face grew grave. The river
had risen during the night and was rushing along with turbulent
strength. There was no house within five miles. His business was
imperative. He dared not leave the child until he came back. Crouching
upon the saddle, he clasped one arm about her while he twisted his other
hand firmly in and out of the horse's mane.
"Are you afraid, Nansie?"
She twined her arms more tightly about his neck until the sunny curls
brushed his cheek.
"Me'll do anywhere, wiv 'oo, Don."
Just as the gallant horse reached the opposite bank Reginald galloped
down to the ford on his way home for Sunday.
"Upon my word, John, you're a perfect slave to that youngster! What mad
thing will you be doing next, I wonder?"
"The next thing will be to go back again," said John with a smile, while
Nan clung fast to his neck and peeped shyly through her curls at her
brother.
"Where are you off to?"
"Henderson's."
Reginald turned his horse's head. "I might as well go along. A man's a
fool to ride alone when he can have company."
John gave him a swift, comprehensive glance.
"How are things going, Rege? You're not looking very fit."
Reginald yawned and drew his hand across his heavy eyes. "Oh, all right.
Oyster suppers and that sort of thing are apt to make a fellow drowsy."
"Don't go too fast, Rege."
"Why not?" said Reginald carelessly. "It suits the governor, and that
book you're so fond of says children should obey their parents."
* * * * *
"I declare, John, you're a regular algebraic puzzle!" he exclaimed later
in the day, as he stood beside John in the carpenter's shop, watching
the curling strips of wood which his plane was tossing off with sweeping
strokes. "You put all there is of you into everything you do. You take
as much pains over a plough handle as you would over a buggy!"
"Why not? God takes as much pains with a humming-bird as an elephant.
Mere size doesn't count."
"Nan loves you, Reggie," and a tiny hand was slipped shyly into her
brother's.
"All right, Magpie," he said carelessly. "You had better run home now to
mother. Your chatter makes my head ache."
The laughing lips quivered and the child turned away from him to John
and hid her face against his knee. He lifted her up on the bench beside
him and gave her a handful of shavings to play with.
"I don't see how you accomplish anything with that child everlastingly
under your feet!" Reginald continued, "yet you do two men's work and
seem to love it into the bargain. I'm sure if I had to cooper up all the
things on the farm as you do, I should loathe the very sight of tools."
"I _do_ love it, Rege. Jesus Christ was a carpenter, you know. I get
very near to him out here."
"Jesus Christ!" echoed Reginald with a puzzled stare. "What is coming
to you, John?"
"It has come, Rege," John said with a great light in his face. "I have
found my Master."
"Upon my word, John, you are the queerest fellow! What next, I wonder?"
"The next thing, Rege," and John laid his hand affectionately upon his
friend's shoulder, "is for you to find him too."
"So, you're going to turn preacher, John? You'll find me a hard subject.
A short life and a merry one is what I am going in for. I've no turn for
Christianity."
"It pays, Rege."
"Don't believe it. How can life be worth living when you're drivelling
psalm tunes all day long?"
John laughed, and there was a new note of gladness in his voice which
Reginald was quick to notice. "I haven't begun to drivel yet, Rege; and
life counts for a good deal more when a man has an object than when he
is living just to please himself."
"And who should a man please but himself, I should like to know?"
"Jesus Christ."
* * * * *
"Upon my word!" said Reginald some weeks later, as he came upon John
sitting astride a cobbler's bench busily mending a pair of shoes, while
Nan looked on admiringly. "Do you learn a new trade every month?"
John laughed quietly. "I took up this one because there are so many
repairs always needed on the harness, and your father thinks all talent
should be utilized."
There was a quizzical look about his mouth as he spoke. Reginald caught
the look and answered hotly.
"The governor ought to be ashamed of himself! Why don't you strike,
John?"
"Why should I? Knowledge is power, Rege."
"Knowledge of shoemaking!" said Reginald contemptuously. "It won't add
to your strength much, John."
"Never can tell," said John sententiously. "You remember that lame
fellow saved a battle for us by knowing how to shoe the general's
horse."
"Next thing you'll be going in for a blacksmith's diploma!"
"I'm thinking of it," said John coolly. "That fellow at the Forks has no
more sense than a hen. He pared so much off Neptune's hoof last week
that he has been limping ever since. I had to take him this morning and
have the shoes removed."
"I wish you'd do some shirking, John, like the rest of us."
"Jesus Christ never shirked, Rege."
"Pshaw! You're so ridiculous!" and Reginald walked discontentedly away.
"Here, John, John, I say," he called, when the time came for him to
return to College, "go catch and saddle Sultan for me. You're so fond of
work, you might as well have two masters. Be quick now, for I'm in the
mischief of a hurry."
John's face flushed. This boy was younger than himself, and his father
had been Mr. Hawthorne's friend.
"Do you hear what I say, John?" demanded Reginald. "You're only here as
a servant any way, and I'll be master some day, so you might as well
learn to obey me now."
John's brow cleared, while the words echoed in his heart with a glad
refrain,--
"A servant of Jesus Christ," and "The Lord's servant must not strive,
but be gentle towards all ... forbearing." After all, life was a matter
between himself and the Lord Jesus. What could Reginald's taunts affect
him now?
"All right," he said quietly, and started for the field.
"I declare!" muttered Reginald, as he watched the tall, lithe form
cross the field with springing step, "you might as well try to make the
fellow mad now, as to storm Gibraltar! What has come to him?"
"Here you are, Sir Reginald," said John good-humoredly, as he led the
freshly groomed horse to the riding-block.
Reginald's voice choked. "Shake hands, John," he said huskily. "I am a
brute! There must be something in this new fad of yours after all. If
you had spoken to me as I did to you just now, I should have knocked you
down."
He rode on for a mile or two in moody silence, then he gave his
shoulders an impatient shrug.
"I'd like to know what it is about John Randolph that makes me feel so
small! I have good times and he is always on the grind. I have all the
money I can spend and he has nothing but the pittance the governor gives
him, and yet he is three times the better fellow of the two. I envy him
his spunk and go. He comes to everything as fresh as a two-year old, and
he works everything for all there is in it. To see him climbing that
hill yesterday, with the youngster on his shoulder, actually made me
feel as if climbing hills was the jolliest thing in life. And it's so
with everything he does. Confound it! I don't see why I can't get the
same comfort out of things. I don't see where the fellow gets his vim.
If I worked as hard as he does, I'd be ready to tumble into bed instead
of pegging away at Latin and Mathematics. I'll have to put on a spurt in
self-defence or he'll be tripping me up with his questions. He's got the
longest head of anyone I know. The idea of the governor daring to set
such a fellow as that to cobble shoes!"
"It's queer about the governor," he continued after a pause. "He's
always ready to shell out when I ask him for money, but he keeps poor
John with his nose to the grindstone all the year round. I suppose he
expects me to pay him in glory. He's set his heart on my being a
judge,--Judge Hawthorne of Hollywood. Sounds euphonious, and I verily
believe the old gentleman has begun to roll it like a sweet morsel under
his tongue. Can't say I have a special aptitude for the profession, and
certainly the brains are not in evidence, but I suppose the governor
thinks money will take their place. He has found it takes the place of
most things.
"Sultan, old boy, we seem down on our luck this morning. We had better
take a speeder to raise our spirits. It is hardly the thing for Judge
Hawthorne of Hollywood to envy John Randolph his humdrum life of mending
rakes and shoes," and he urged his horse into a mad gallop.
* * * * *
"I believe I'd like to be poor and work, John," he exclaimed one day.
"It gets tiresome having everything laid ready to your hand, with
nothing to do but take it. Life must be full of snap when you have to
dash your will up against old Dame Fortune and wrest what you want out
of her miserly clutches."
"Yes," said John simply, "Jesus Christ was poor."
"Look here, John. If you don't stop that nonsense, people will be
dubbing you a crank."
"I am ready!" he cried, and there was a strange, exulting ring in his
voice. "They called him mad, you know."