Benefits Forgot | Page 7

house of God," roared the minister. The young fellow sneaked out the door. Brother Wilkins turned back to the pew.
"Don't you tech me or I'll brain ye," cried the youth who was about Brother Wilkins' own size.
"Hah!" snorted the minister. There was the sound of blows, a quick scuffling of feet and the second offender was booted out of the door. The remaining two made a quick and unassisted exit. Breathing a little heavily, Brother Wilkins returned to his sermon; and to his hypnotized and immensely regaled congregation it seemed that the rest of his preaching was as from one inspired by God.
Jason sat brooding deeply. Something within him revolted at the spectacle of his father descending from the pulpit to beat recalcitrant members of his congregation. An old and familiar sense of shame enveloped him, and he was thankful when once again darkness had enveloped them and they were traveling rapidly along the mountain road. They were to have a late supper and spend the night at a cabin well along the road they must travel on the morrow.
Brother Wilkins was in the abstracted state that always followed his preaching and Jason was glad to respect his silence, until it had lasted so long that he became uneasy.
"Father, didn't you say that Herd's was five miles beyond the church?"
The minister pulled up his horse. In the darkness Jason could barely see the outlines of his body.
"Heavens, Jason! Why didn't you rouse me sooner? This isn't the main traveled road. When did we leave it?"
"I don't know, sir. I thought you knew this part of the country so well--"
"So I do, ordinarily. But I can't recognize by-paths on a night like this. Wait, isn't that a light up the mountainside yonder? Come along, my boy, we'll find out where we are."
The light glowed only faintly from the open door of a cabin. An old woman, with a pipe in her mouth, sat crooning over a little fire in the crude fireplace. She looked up in astonishment when the two appeared in the doorway.
"Why, it's Brother Wilkins!" she cackled. "Lord's sake, what you doin' clar up hyar!"
"Why, Sister Clark! I am glad to see you," exclaimed Jason's father, shaking one of the old woman's hands, and shouting into her other, which she cupped round her ear. "My son and I must have got off the main road five miles back. We're on our way to Milton."
Sister Clark was visibly excited. "Ye ain't going on a step tonight. I can fix a shake-down for ye. Thing like this don't happen to a lone old woman twice in a lifetime. Bring in your saddle-bags--but Lord!" she stopped aghast. "I ain't got a bit of pork in the house, nor there ain't a chicken on the place. All I got is corn-meal and molasses."
"Plenty, Sister Clark! Plenty! Get the saddle-bags, Jason, and tie the horses to graze."
They ate their supper by candle-light after their hostess had cooked the mush in a kettle hanging from the crane. Brother Wilkins had a violent choking fit during the meal and Sister Clark pounded him on the back, apologizing as she did so for her familiarity with the minister.
Jason slept profoundly on his share of the shake-down that night, and at dawn, after more mush, they were up and away.
Twice on this day, Sunday, Brother Wilkins held service in the mountains and it was nine o'clock at night when they started toward the Ohio again. It was not until they had reached the river at dawn and had roused the ferryman that the minister recovered from his Sunday abstraction.
"Did you have a pleasant trip, Jason?" he asked as they led the horses into the boat.
"Yes, father," answered Jason dutifully.
Brother Wilkins looked at the boy, as if he were beholding him from a new angle.
"You don't look as much like your dear mother as you did in your childhood, my boy. Sometimes--I wonder--Jason, do you think this life has been too hard on your mother?"
"Yes, sir, I do. It's hard on a boy, why shouldn't it be doubly hard on a woman?"
The minister sighed. "Your reply is hardly polite, Jason, though I suppose my question merited it." Then with sudden heat: "Never mistake this cold frankness of yours for courage, my son. It takes more courage usually to be courteous than to be impolite. Did you notice that I coughed violently yesterday evening at Sister Clark's?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, the cause of it was this. She went down to the spring and fetched a pail of water for the mush. When I was eating my helping, I felt a lump in my mouth. But the old lady had her eye on me every minute for fear I wouldn't enjoy the frugal meal, so I could only investigate with my tongue. I