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WHEN Dodge slunk away into
the bush, with the Warden’s threat upon him, he ground his teeth in silent
rage. Was he not one of the first settlers here? —yes, he and old John
Miller were the first that came into that section to take up land. They had
wrested it from a wilderness, had built roads through it, and had induced
others to come in and settle. They had organized the district, built the
school, and made it what it is to-day.
The truth of the matter was that while Dave Dodge and John Miller were the
first settlers, Miller was first, and plunged into the bush with his axe and
stout heart. He soon had a clearing and a log cabin, to which he brought a
bride as capable and stout-hearted as himself. Then came in Dodge, a shrewd,
unscrupulous man, fond of drink, and when drunk, surly and quarrelsome; but
he was a sociable fellow when sober, and had some other good qualities.
He took up land by the lake. A situation that was somewhat superior to John
Miller’s, and in time, because of its location on the lake front, proved the
more valuable possession. He built himself a little shanty, and spent most
of his time hunting and trapping. When lumbermen came in, he shrewdly
fore-stalled them by cutting all the pine himself and selling It—on the plea
of clearing his land for farming. He thus netted himself some good hard
cash, enlarged his house, and went to a neighbouring village, where he
secured a wife. Several other men came in and took up land, and Miller
petitioned the Government for a grant to build a road through their
district. This was readily given, for the Government was ready to encourage
its settlers, especially in new districts. Miller was given the contract for
a portion of the road, and Dodge secured it for another section. Miller
sought a road expert, and, though the condition of his section was the worst
imaginable from rocks, ledges, ravines, still his road is creditable to this
day, and the bridges were well made. Dodge had a much leveller piece of
ground, and only a couple of narrow streams to bridge; but from the first
his road was dangerous, and was a nightmare to all travellers after dark.
Within three months, Miller with the other settlers had to turn out and
rebuild the bridges and relay most of Dodge’s corduroy road. The most
important part of the business to Dodge seemed to be to draw the money from
the Government. With that money he secured permission to turn his house into
a backwoods saloon and lay in his first supply of liquor. When the lumbermen
had camps near by he held high carnival every night, and began to think
himself the most important man in the whole district.
Instead of helping to secure the school, he threw every obstacle possible in
its way. He bullied the settlers, and tried to drive Miller from his
purpose. But he fought in vain. The Government’s inducements to the settlers
were tempting, and the needs of their children were pressing, and so John
Miller had the honour of leading his fellow settlers in a bee to build their
log schoolhouse, which he saw was the very best that could under the
circumstances be built. From that time the contest for improvement was
fought by John Miller, and his determined enemy was always the
saloon-keeper, Dave Dodge. But this was only a small portion of the inimical
work of Dodge. His saloon became the centre of backwoods brawls, and evils
that wrecked many lives and even some of the homes of the settlers. The
place became so lawless that the Government had to take special measures to
maintain order.
But as Dodge went home from the little Parsonage he was full of
self-righteousness and self-justification. All that was good and beneficent
in the neighbourhood he and Miller had done, and, in his estimation,
Miller’s honour by no means outshone his. And now, after all this service to
his district, and the tourists beginning to find out the beauties of the
country, and to flock in scores and hundreds in the summer-time, thus making
hotel business very profitable, to have this upstart of a Warden to threaten
lifelong imprisonment over his head because of his mistakes—not to say
diabolical sins—against his fellows, if he did not leave the country within
a week!
Lanky was awed by Dodge’s manner, and had not been with him for years
without knowing when silence was the better part of discretion. When Dodge
reached his home, a very little provocation was needed to bring heavy
penalty upon the first culprit. This one, unfortunately, happened to be his
wife. The poor overworked creature had lain down on her hard couch in the
kitchen and had gone to sleep. Two passing shantymen had called for a drink,
and finding the bar-room unoccupied and no one in the house but a sleeping
woman, they had helped themselves. Then, with a liberal supply of bottles of
whisky and other liquors, they hastened away.
Raging as he was when he entered his bar-room, Dodge saw that nearly every
bottle of liquor in sight was gone. He hurried into the kitchen, only to
find his wife asleep.
‘Who’s been here to buy whisky?’ he demanded of his wife.
The wife sprang to her feet, rubbing her eyes.
‘Eh?’ she asked.
‘Who’s been here for liquor?’ he thundered again.
‘No one that I know.' she replied.
Then with an oath, he said—
‘You’ve allowed some rascals to rob me, you sleeping idiot!’ and with
another oath of rage he struck her full in the face. With a screech the poor
woman fell back on the couch with a broken nose.
Dodge hastened back into the bar-room, and after consoling himself that his
till was not touched—whisky provoking the thieves sooner than gold—he pulled
out another case of liquor, uncorked a bottle of whisky, and without the
assistance of a glass poured it down his throat. When Dodge finished his
drink, it was only to fall into a profound stupor. The demon of thirst was
aroused, and when he awakened it was only to demand more whisky.
When John Miller came home from his visit to the Parsonage he told his wife
many things, but he did not mention the sentence that hung over Dave Dodge.
He pondered over it, and became more quiet than ever. His prayers at the
family altar, night and morning, took on a greater intensity. He did not
forget to pray for his pastor’s recovery, for God’s blessed Spirit and
sustaining power to dwell with More in beginning the new life, and for grace
to increase in the hearts of all the neighbours; he earnestly besought God
to purify their hearts from all manner of evil thoughts, prejudice, and
unforgivingness, and also that God would gird His saints with power to lay
down their lives, if need be, for their fellows. He chose his passages of
Scripture carefully, reading the sixth chapter of Matthew, the twelfth of
Romans, and the fourth of Ephesians.
Mrs. Miller noted these things and tried to fathom their meaning, but though
she was usually very shrewd she did not succeed.
‘John,’ she said one day, ‘do you despair of our preacher’s life?’
‘Oh no, Mary. Thanks to God and kind friends, he is coming around all
right.'
‘Is More holding true?’ she ventured again.
‘As true as steel, praise His name!'
‘Then, John, why are you growing so white and quiet like? I never heard you
pray so in your life.’
‘Mary, my good wife, I never needed God’s light and grace so much. The
Warden has ordered Dave Dodge to leave the country within a week—dear me,
and this is—this is the morning of the fourth day now. And you know, and God
knows, that I haven’t fully forgiven him for burning our barn.’
‘No, I don’t know that,’ replied Mrs. Miller, stoutly. ‘You didn’t send him
to jail, as he ought to have gone. You have pardoned him time and again for
killing sheep and hogs. He stole a calf. You merely told him that he did it,
and you could prove it. He drove you off with curses. You have prayed for
him, night and morning, and never allowed an unkind word to be said about
him.’
‘And would you speak one now? Why, where will he go to? He is most as old as
me, and we have always lived here together. What would I do without him?’
‘Why, you’d have a chance to live in peace, and his dirty, little hell-hole
would be shut up.’ Mrs. Miller seldom spoke as warmly. She had a large
heart, and forgave many things; but her faith and love were limited. Dave
Dodge was beyond the pale, and she could not understand why her husband
clung so tenaciously to the old rascal.
‘Mary,’ said Miller, quietly, ‘I want you to pray earnestly for me, for I am
going to see Dave to-day, and see what I can do for him.'
‘I’ll pray that God will send you back to me alive,’ said Mrs. Miller. And
added quickly, when she saw the look that came upon her husband’s kindly
face, ‘Yes, John, I believe that you are right. May God bless you, whatever
happens!’
‘And God bless you, my dear, and fill you with the sweet love of Jesus!’
Then John Miller turned his attention to his morning’s work. After it was
all completed, he dressed himself with much care, and bidding his wife
good-bye, he went down the road to the ‘Duck Lake Hotel.’
On the same morning, the fourth day of Dodge’s debauch, his wife, poor
creature, with her bandaged face, became alarmed at his terrible condition,
and begged of Lanky and Huddy not to supply him with any more liquor. So the
men desisted.
Dodge was in his bedroom over the kitchen and helplessly stupid. He begged,
pleaded and coaxed, but all in vain. Then he stormed and threatened. His
strength came to him suddenly as that of ten men, and he sprang up in a
fury. The men ran for their lives down to the kitchen. They locked the door
going into the bar-room, and then fastened the kitchen door on the outside.
Dodge came down, breathing curses and threatenings. When he found the door
to the bar-room locked, his fury knew no bounds. He sought a billet of wood,
but found none; then, to the horror of the people watching through the
windows, he opened the stove door, took out a stick of wood that was burning
a little at one end, and with that pounded open the bar-room door. Then,
throwing down the stick, he made a rush for a bottle of liquor; but in doing
so he fell, and in falling brought down a shelf of bottles. Some of these
broke. The liquor ran out, took fire when it touched the burning stick, and
spread with astonishing rapidity. Dodge jumped up, seized a bottle of whisky
and hurried back to the kitchen, unmindful of the flames. Then he hastened
upstairs, and getting into his bed he broke the top off the bottle on the
side of the bed, drank deeply, and fell into a stupor.
The flames made terrific headway in the dry old house, and as the smoke
began to pour out of the bar-room door, Mrs. Dodge exclaimed—
‘Oh! my Dave will be burned—my Dave will be burned!’ And before the men
could stop her she had pulled away the barricade at the kitchen door, and
run in and up the stairs.
The men secured some pails, and, bringing water from the lake, dashed it
ineffectually on the burning building. The fire raged with most fury in the
bar-room up to the roof, and then back to the kitchen. So the stairs had not
caught fire. |
