Benefits Forgot | Page 9

and Jason sprang to take his hand.
"Oh, he wants to speak to you and can't. O my poor dear! O Ethan, my
dearest."
Jason's mother broke down. Jason put his finger on his father's wrist.
After a long moment, "Mother, he's gone," he whispered.
After the funeral, Jason wandered about the village for a day or so,
trying to plan for his mother's future and his own. All the townspeople
were kind to him.
"Haven't forgot how you loaned me those Harper's Monthlies before
you read 'em yourself," said Mr. Inchpin. "Anything I can do for you or
your mother, let me know."
The two had met in Hardwich's store, which was also the post office

and the evening club for the males of High Hill. Jason had dropped in
to post a letter.
A tall scraggly man joined in. "Your father was the best preacher in
Ohio. We was all glad when he got back here."
"He had the gift of prayer," said an old man, in the back of the store.
There was a silence which Jason struggled in vain to break.
Then a young fellow who carried a buggy whip and smoked a cigar
said, "How does the doctoring go, Jason?"
"Well, thanks," returned Jason, looking at the young fellow, intently. It
was Billy Ames, he of the striped pants.
Back through Jason's heart, until now strangely softened by the
happenings of the past few days, surged the accumulated bitterness of
his poverty-stricken youth. He turned abruptly and left the store.
His mother was watching for him, anxiously. "Jason, Pilgrim had an
accident. He's got a frightful cut on his right fore shoulder. He must
have got caught on a nail somehow."
"Let's have a look at him," said Jason.
The big gray was standing stolidly in his stall. Mrs. Wilkins held the
candle while Jason examined him. On the right fore shoulder was a
great three-cornered tear from which the skin hung in a bloody fold.
"I'll have to sew it up." Jason was all surgeon now. "Do you think he'll
stand still for us?"
"Stand still," replied Jason's mother, indignantly. "Why, he'll know
exactly what you are doing, and why."
"All right then. You get me some clean rags and a darning-needle and
I'll get the rest of the things I'll need."

In a few moments the operation was well in hand.
Pilgrim kept his ears back and his eyes on his mistress. He breathed
heavily, but otherwise he did not stir. He was a large horse, with a
small, intelligent head and a mighty chest. Jason's mother held the
candle with one hand while she stroked the big gray's nose with the
other.
"Be careful, Jason, do!" she said softly.
Jason grunted. "You keep him from biting or kicking and I'll do my
share," he said.
"Pilgrim bite!" cried Jason's mother indignantly.
Again Jason grunted, working swiftly, with the skill of trained and
accustomed fingers. The candle flickered on his cool young face, on his
black hair and on his long, strong, surgeon's fingers. It flickered too on
his mother's sweet lips, on her tired brown eyes and iron-gray hair. It
put high-lights on the cameo at her throat and made a grotesque shadow
of her hoop-skirts on the stable wall.
Finally Jason straightened himself with a sigh and wiped his hands on a
towel.
"That's a good job," he said. "Must be some bad spikes here or in the
pasture fence to have given him that rip. I'll hunt them up
tomorrow.--Get over there!"
This last to Pilgrim, who suddenly had put his head on Jason's shoulder
with a soft nuzzling of his nose against the young doctor's cheek and a
little whinny that was almost human.
"Why, Jason, he's thanking you!" cried his mother. "He'll never forget
what you've done for him tonight."
Jason gave the horse a careless slap and started out the stable door.
"You'll be having it that he speaks Greek next," he said.

"You don't know him," replied Jason's mother. "This is the first time
you ever saw him, remember. These last three years of your father's life
he's been like one of the family." She followed Jason into the cottage.
"Often and often before your poor father died he said he'd never have
been able to keep on with the circuit-riding and the preaching if he'd
had to depend on any other horse than Pilgrim. That horse just knew
father was forgetful. He wouldn't budge if father forgot the saddle-bags.
When Pilgrim balked, father always knew he'd forgotten something and
he'd go back for it. I'll have supper on by the time you've washed up,
Jason."
The little stove that was set in the fireplace roared lustily. The kettle
was singing. The old yellow cat slept cozily in the