Trail-Tales of Western CanadaRobinson, F. A. (Frank Alfred)
Religion
Trail-Tales of Western Canada
Robinson, F. A. (Frank Alfred)
Canadian fiction -- 20th century; Missions -- Canada, Western -- Fiction; Short stories, Canadian
Bill had not escaped serious injury. He found it impossible to rise,
and as tenderly as he knew how, Charlie pillowed his head and stooped
beside him as he lay in the aisle. "I'm feared I'm pretty badly
hurted, pardner," groaned Bill. "There was something kind o' crushed
inside. Guess I'll just lie here for a bit."
The engine had plunged through an undermined piece of track, and
engineer and fireman were terribly cut and scalded, while the
baggage-man had been pinned beneath some heavy trunks that had shot
forward and downward when the engine crashed into the washout.
"It's the hospital for you, my man," said the doctor kindly, after a
hurried examination of Bill's injuries. "We'll make you as comfortable
as we can before the 'special' pulls out, but you need a little
attention that you can't get in the camp even if you were able to stand
the journey."
Charlie got permission to accompany his pal, and for Bill's sake he
kept a brave heart, although the events of the past twenty-four hours
robbed him of the lightheartedness that had been his in anticipation of
the home-going.
Two days later Charlie decided to continue his journey eastward. The
doctors were still anxious about Bill, but there was nothing Charlie
could do, and he knew the old mother was waiting for her boy.
It was a touching farewell as the sick man's hand was clasped. A score
of times Charlie had expressed his sorrow that he had ever let Bill
accompany him, and yet each time in his own way he thanked Bill for
standing by him when he was "near bowled out."
Bill tried to say that he was glad Charlie was going home, but his tone
and look revealed his sense of loss and loneliness at the prospect of
his pal's departure, and Charlie's eyes needed a good deal of
attention, which they received surreptitiously.
Motioning for Charlie to come nearer, the sick man whispered: "You're a
brick, old pard, to stay by me this long. I guess she's getting
anxious for yer. Say, Charlie, when yer away down there I'll be kind
er lonely; how would it be if yer made a bit of a prayer once in a
while for me?" Then with a last pressure on the still clasped hand, he
added, "Good-bye, old pal, God bless yer; maybe we'll hit the trail
together again some day, but say, Charlie!" (the voice was throbbing
with emotion, and the eyes reflected well-nigh a mother's
tenderness)--"say, Charlie! we'll stay by it, won't we? If the whole
world goes back on Jesus Christ we two'll stick to him, 'cause we know
what He can do; don't we, Charlie?"
Thus they parted. Inside of three days the one was clasped in a
mother's arms and there was great joy in the little village home; and
almost at the same hour the other reached his Father's Home, and there,
too, was great joy.
THE BANNER MINES
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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