Snap: A legend of the Lone MountainPhillipps-Wolley, Clive
General
Snap: A legend of the Lone Mountain
Phillipps-Wolley, Clive
Canadian Rockies (B.C. and Alta.) -- Fiction; English fiction -- 19th century; Mountaineering -- Fiction
'Yes!' he said, 'that is about the truth of it. We are all ruined.
Fairbury was sold three days after you left it. That is why we sent
you down here. We wanted to spare Frank the wrench, and we didn't
want any of you punching the auctioneer's head, or any nonsense of
that sort. We have all got to work now, lads, for our living.'
Here the old man rose and put his strong hands on Frank's shoulders,
and looked him full in the face.
'With God with them, my boys aren't afraid, are they?'
Frank gripped the old man's hand, and Billy crept up close to him,
while Snap, watching from a distance, felt hurt to the heart that he
had not lost and was not privileged to suffer with them.
And yet 'Fairbury sold' seemed too much for any of them to realise
all at once. Fairbury seemed part and parcel of themselves. It was
to them as its shell to an oyster. The Winthrops (the whole race)
had been born in it, and it had grown as they grew. After a while
Towzer broke the silence.
'Then, uncle, where are we going home to?' he asked.
'Home, my lad! Well, I suppose we must make a new home somewhere.
It should not be difficult at our age, should it, Frank?' added the
gallant old man, as if he were the youngest of the young as well as
the bravest of the brave.
'But, uncle, won't mother's tenants pay their rent?' asked Frank.
'My boy, your mother has no tenants,' said Mrs. Winthrop, who had
re-entered the room, 'and you'll never be Squire of Fairbury, as you
should have been. It does seem hard.'
And so it did, and one young heart, of no kin to hers, felt it almost
as much as she did, and Snap swore then, though it seemed a ludicrous
thing even to himself, that, if ever he could, he would put back that
sweet woman and her boy in their own old home.
But I must hurry over this part of my story. Sorrow and tears are
only valuable for the effects they leave behind. Without the rain
there would be no corn; without misfortune and poverty there would be
very little effort and achievement in the world. But it is more
pleasant to dwell on the happy results than on the causes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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