Riders of the Silences | Page 3

a command,
Pierre slipped down, whipped his hands to a new grip, and the two
crashed to the mat, with Pierre above.
"Open your eyes, Father Anthony. The lad is safe. How Goliath
grunts!" The boy had not cared to follow his advantage, but rose and
danced away, laughing softly. The Canuck floundered up and rushed

like a furious bull. His downfall was only the swifter. The impact of the
two bodies sounded like hands clapped together, and then Goliath rose
into the air, struggling mightily, and pitched with a thud to the mat.
He writhed there, for the wind was knocked from his body by the fall.
At length he struggled to a sitting posture and glared up at the
conqueror. The boy reached out a hand to his fallen foe.
"You would have thrown me that way the first time," he said, "but you
let me change grips on you. In another week you will be too much for
me, bon ami."
The other accepted the hand after an instant of hesitation and was
dragged to his feet. He stood looking down into the boy's face with a
singular grin. But there was no triumph in the eye of Pierre--only a
good-natured interest.
"In another week," answered the giant, "there would not be a sound
bone in my body."


CHAPTER 2
"You have seen him," murmured the tall priest. "Now let us go back
and wait for him. I will leave word."
He touched one of the two or three men who were watching the athletes,
and whispered his message in the other's ear. Then he went back with
Father Anthony. "You have seen him," he repeated, when they sat once
more in the cheerless room. "Now pronounce on him."
The other answered: "I have seen a wonderful body--but the mind,
Father Victor?"
"It is as simple as that of a child--his thoughts run as clear as spring

water."
"But suppose a strange thought came in the mind of your Pierre. It
would be like the pebbles in swift-running spring water. He would
carry it on, rushing. It would tear away the old boundaries of his
mind--it might wipe out the banks you have set down for him--it might
tear away the choicest teachings."
Father Victor sat straight and stiff with stern, set lips. He said dryly:
"Father Anthony has been much in the world."
"I speak from the best intention, good father. Look you, now, I have
seen that same red hair and those same lighted blue eyes before, and
wherever I have seen them has been war and trouble and unrest. I have
seen that same smile which stirs the heart of a woman and makes a man
reach for his revolver. This boy whose mind is so clear--arm him with a
single wrong thought, with a single doubt of the eternal goodness of
God's plans, and he will be a thunderbolt indeed, dear Father, but one
which even your strong hand could not control."
"I have heard you," said the priest; "but you will see. He is coming
now."
There was a knock at the door; then it opened and showed a modest
novice in a simple gown of black serge girt at the waist with the flat
encircling band. His head was downward; it was not till the blue eyes
flashed inquisitively up that Father Anthony recognized Pierre.
The hard voice of Jean Paul Victor pronounced: "This is that Father
Anthony of whom I have spoken."
The novice slipped to his knees and folded his hands, while the plump
fingers of Father Anthony poised over that dark red hair, pressed
smooth on top where the skullcap rested. The blessing which he spoke
was Latin, and Father Victor looked somewhat anxiously toward his
protege till the latter answered in a diction so pure that Cicero himself
would have smiled to hear it.

"Stand up!" cried Father Anthony. "By heavens, Jean Paul, it is the
purest Latin I have heard this twelvemonth."
And the lad answered: "It must be pure Latin; Father Victor has taught
me."
Gabrielle Anthony stared, and to save him from too obvious confusion
the other priest interrupted: "I have a letter for you, my son."
And he passed the envelope to Pierre. The latter examined it with
interest. "This comes from the south. It is marked from the United
States."
"So far!" exclaimed the tall priest. "Give me the letter, lad."
But here he caught the whimsical eyes of Father Anthony, and he
allowed his outstretched hand to fall. Yet he scowled as he said: "No;
keep it and read it, Pierre."
"I have no great wish to keep it," answered Pierre, studying anxiously
the dark brow of the priest.
"It is yours. Open it and read."
The lad obeyed instantly. He shook