Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; Loggers -- Fiction; Logging -- Fiction; Michigan -- Fiction
For now to his old religion Thorpe had added a fanaticism, and over the
fanaticism was gradually creeping a film of doubt. To the conscientious
energy which a sense of duty supplied, was added the tremendous kinetic
force of a love turned into other channels. And in the wild nights while
the other men slept, Thorpe's half-crazed brain was revolving over and
over again the words of the sentence he had heard from Hilda's lips:
“There can be nothing better than love.”
His actions, his mind, his very soul vehemently denied the proposition.
He clung as ever to his high Puritanic idea of man's purpose. But down
deep in a very tiny, sacred corner of his heart a very small voice
sometimes made itself heard when other, more militant voices were still:
“It may be; it may be!”
The influence of this voice was practically nothing. It made itself
heard occasionally. Perhaps even, for the time being, its weight
counted on the other side of the scale; for Thorpe took pains to deny
it fiercely, both directly and indirectly by increased exertions. But
it persisted; and once in a moon or so, when the conditions were quite
favorable, it attained for an instant a shred of belief.
Probably never since the Puritan days of New England has a community
lived as sternly as did that winter of 1888 the six camps under Thorpe's
management. There was something a little inspiring about it. The men
fronted their daily work with the same grim-faced, clear-eyed steadiness
of veterans going into battle;--with the same confidence, the same sure
patience that disposes effectively of one thing before going on to
the next. There was little merely excitable bustle; there was no rest.
Nothing could stand against such a spirit. Nothing did. The skirmishers
which the wilderness threw out, were brushed away. Even the inevitable
delays seemed not so much stoppages as the instant's pause of a heavy
vehicle in a snow drift, succeeded by the momentary acceleration as the
plunge carried it through. In the main, and by large, the machine moved
steadily and inexorably.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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