20. CHAPTER XX.
GOD REMEMBERS SHOCKY.
AT four o'clock the next morning, in the midst
of a driving snow, Ralph went timidly up the lane
toward the homely castle of the Meanses. He went
timidly, for he was afraid of Bull. But he found
Bud waiting for him, with the roan colt bridled and
saddled. The roan colt was really a large three-year-old, full of
the finest sort of animal life, and having, as Bud declared, “a
mighty sight of hoss sense fer his age.” He seemed to understand
at once that there was something extraordinary on hand when
he was brought out of his comfortable quarters at four in the
morning in the midst of a snow-storm. Bud was sure that the
roan colt felt his responsibility.
In the days that followed, Ralph often had occasion to remember
this interview with Bud, who had risked much in bringing
his fractured arm out into the cold, damp air. Jonathan never
clave to David more earnestly than did Bud this December
morning to Ralph.
“You see, Mr. Hartsook,” said Bud, “I wish I was well myself.
It's hard to set still. But it's a-doing me a heap of good. I'm
like a boy at school. And I'm a-findin' out that doing one's best
licks fer others isn't all they is of it, though it's a good part. I
feel like as if I must git Him, you know, to do lots for me.
They's always some sums too hard fer a feller, and he has to ax
the master to do 'em, you know. But see, the roan's a-stomping
round. He wants to be off. Do you know I think that hoss
knows something's up? I think he puts in his best licks fer me
a good deal better than I do fer Him.” There was no more
hopeful sign of the growth of a genuine religious life in Bud than
the feeling of reverence which caused him to cease to speak too
familiarly of God or Christ, and to use pronouns and circumlocutions.
Ralph pressed Bud's right-hand. Bud rubbed his face against
the colt's nose and said: “Put in your best licks, old fellow.”
And the colt whinnied. How a horse must want to speak! For
Bud was right. Men are gods to horses, and they serve their
deities with a faithfulness that shames us.
Then Ralph sprang into the saddle, and the roan, as if wishing
to show Bud his willingness, broke into a swinging gallop, and
was soon lost from the sight of his master in the darkness and
the snow. When Bud could no more hear the sound of the
roan's footsteps he returned to the house, to lie awake picturing
to himself the journey of Ralph with Shocky and the roan colt.
It was a great comfort to Bud that the roan, which was almost
a part of himself, represented him in this ride. And he knew the
roan well enough to feel sure that he would do credit to his
master. “He'll put in his best licks,” Bud whispered to himself
many a time before daybreak.
The ground was but little frozen, and the snow made the roads
more slippery than ever. But the rough-shod roan handled his
feet dexterously and with a playful and somewhat self-righteous
air, as if he said: “Didn't I do it handsomely that time?” Down
slippery hills, through deep mud-holes covered with a slender
film of ice, he trod with perfect assurance. And then up over
the rough stones of Rocky Hollow, where there was no road at
all, he picked his way through the darkness and snow. Ralph
could not tell where he was at last, but gave the reins to the
roan, who did his duty bravely, and not without a little flourish,
as if to show that he had yet plenty of spare power.
A feeble candle-ray, making the dense snow-fall visible, marked
for Ralph the site of the basket-maker's cabin. Miss Martha had
been admitted to the secret, and had joined in the conspiracy
heartily, without being able to recall anything of the kind having
occurred at the East, and not remembering having seen or heard
of anything of the sort the time she was to Bosting. She had
Shocky all ready, having used some of her own capes and shawls
to make him warm.
Miss Martha came out to meet Ralph when she heard the feet
of the roan before the door.
“O Mr. Hartsook! is that you? What a storm! This is just
the way it snows at the East. Shocky's all ready. He didn't
know a thing about it tell I waked him this morning. Ever since
that he's been saying that God hasn't forgot, after all. It's made
me cry more'n once.” And Shocky kissed Mrs. Pearson, and
told her that when he got away from Flat Creek he'd tell God all
about it, and God would bring Mr. Pearson back again. And
then Martha Hawkins lifted the frail little form, bundled in
shawls, in her arms, and brought him out into the storm; and
before she handed him up he embraced her, and said: “O Miss
Hawkins! God ha'n't forgot me, after all. Tell Hanner that He
ha'n't forgot. I'm going to ask him to git her away from Means's
and mother out of the poor-house. I'll ask him just as soon as I
get to Lewisburg.”
Ralph lifted the trembling form into his arms, and the little
fellow only looked up in the face of the master and said: “You
see, Mr. Hartsook, I thought God had forgot. But he ha'n't!”
And the words of the little boy comforted the master also.
God had not forgotten him either!
From the moment that Ralph took Shocky into his arms, the
conduct of the roan colt underwent an entire revolution. Before
that he had gone over a bad place with a rush, as though he were
ambitious of distinguishing himself by his brilliant execution.
Now he trod none the less surely, but he trod tenderly. The
neck was no longer arched. He set himself to his work as
steadily as though he were twenty years old. For miles he traveled
on in a long, swinging walk, putting his feet down carefully
and firmly. And Ralph felt the spirit of the colt enter into himself.
He cut the snow-storm with his face, and felt a sense of
triumph over all his difficulties. The bull-dog's jaws had been his
teacher, and now the steady, strong, and conscientious legs of the
roan inspired him.
Shocky had not spoken. He lay listening to the steady music
of the horse's feet, doubtless framing the footsteps of the roan
colt into an anthem of praise to the God who had not forgot.
But as the dawn came on, making the snow whiter, he raised
himself and said half-aloud, as he watched the flakes chasing one
another in whirling eddies, that the snow seemed to be having a
good time of it. Then he leaned down again on the master's
[ILLUSTRATION]
THE ROAN COLT'S BEST LICKS.
[Description: 556EAF. Illustration page. Engraving of a man holding a wrapped
figure, riding on a black horse through a snowstorm.]
bosom, full of a still joy, and only roused from his happy reverie
to ask what that big, ugly-looking house was.
“See, Mr. Hartsook, how big it is, and how little and ugly the
windows is! And the boards is peeling off all over it, and the
hogs is right in the front-yard. It don't look just like a house.
It looks dreadful. What is it?”
Ralph had dreaded this question. He did not answer it, but
asked Shocky to change his position a little, and then he quickened
the pace of the horse. But Shocky was a poet, and a poet
understands silence more quickly than he does speech. The little
fellow shivered as the truth came to him.
“Is that the poor-house?” he said, catching his breath. “Is
my mother in that place? Won't you take me in there, so as I
can just kiss her once? 'Cause she can't see much, you know.
And one kiss from me will make her feel so good. And I'll tell
her that God ha'n't forgot.” He had raised up and caught hold
of Ralph's coat.
Ralph had great difficulty in quieting him. He told him that
if he went in there Bill Jones might claim that he was a runaway
and belonged there. And poor Shocky only shivered and
said he was cold. A minute later, Ralph found that he was
shaking with a chill, and a horrible dread came over him. What
if Shocky should die? It was only a minute's work to get down,
take the warm horse-blanket from under the saddle, and wrap it
about the boy, then to strip off his own overcoat and add that to
it. It was now daylight, and finding, after he had mounted, that
Shocky continued to shiver, he put the roan to his best speed for
the rest of the way, trotting up and down the slippery hills, and
galloping away on the level ground. How bravely the roan laid
himself to his work, making the fence-corners fly past in a long
procession! But poor little Shocky was too cold to notice them,
and Ralph shuddered lest Shocky should never be warm again,
and spoke to the roan, and the roan stretched out his head, and
dropped one ear back to hear the first word of command, and
stretched the other forward to look out for danger, and then flew
with a splendid speed down the road, past the patches of blackberry
briars, past the elderberry bushes, past the familiar red-haw
tree in the fence-corner, over the bridge without regard to the
threat of a five-dollar fine, and at last up the long lane into the
village, where the smoke from the chimneys was caught and
whirled round with the snow.
