Part 2 (1/2)
It is a true saying that, ”People keep with people, and mountains with mountains.” How one person gets used to another you can scarcely believe until you have seen it yourself. What is it that draws one to another? Long lived our three comrades with Bacha Filina without Palko, and nothing was lacking, but now if a day pa.s.sed without seeing him it seemed as if they could not stand it. Though it may seem strange, Bacha Filina would have missed him most. Wherever he went, whatever he did, he always had in mind the moment when the bushes parted on that beautiful Sunday afternoon, and, like a picture in a frame, stood the strange boy so clean and neat with his cape over his shoulder, small hat in his hand, resting his hand on a s.h.a.ggy white dog. It would truly be a fine picture for a painter to paint in those wide mountains, if he could but make it so true to nature--you could not look at him enough. And he remembered again how Palko sat with them in front of the hut with the Holy Book in his hand, reading word for word, chapter for chapter. Such beautiful and good things. So must Jesus have looked when He sat amongst the Jewish teachers. Oh, how did he understand the Word of G.o.d! No sermon had moved old Bacha as did the talks of Palko the boy, though he had heard many in his life.
Bacha had a whole Bible which he read sometimes on Sunday. He had also a big book with sermons, but since the time that Palko Lesina came every evening to them it was as if a veil had been removed from the man's eyes. The Bible became to him the living Word of G.o.d.
”The Lord Jesus used to walk by the Sea of Gennesaret,” said the boy seriously. ”Now He walks through these mountains of yours. Sometimes He pa.s.sed through our mountains to seek us, and now He seeks you.”
Again it was Sunday. Filina got the boys ready to go to church, but he himself remained in front of his hut. Fido who was not permitted to run with the comrades, lay at his feet. Suddenly he p.r.i.c.ked up his ears, jumped up, and like an arrow flew into the nearby thicket. Bacha paid no attention. He sat with his head bowed down. He did not even hear someone speak to the dog, nor hear any greeting; he did not arouse himself till he heard close to him the pleasant young voice which he loved so much.
”Good morning, Uncle Filina. Why are you so sad and so lonely? Where is everybody?”
”Welcome, Palko,” gladly replied the man. He held out his brown hand to the boy. ”If I had known you would come, I would not have sent the boys to the church. Everywhere is the house of G.o.d. And I suppose you are bringing the Bible, about which you spoke yesterday?”
”Yes, I do. My father went away for a few days. He asks you kindly if you will let me stay with your boys that I may not have to stay alone in the hut. Will you take me?”
The beautiful eyes of the boy gazed longingly on the face of the man.
”Why, surely. We will be only too glad if you stay with us,” answered Bacha. ”But why did your father go home?”
”He went with some wood. He could not take it all at once. The balance we shall put on a float, and so carry it to our destination. Thus I could bring the Bible to show it to you.”
”Is that the one from Pastor Malina?”
”Yes, Uncle, and I esteem it very much. There are many notes in Latin which I do not understand, and also some in Slovak. When I look at the writing I see the pastor in front of me. I would like to show you what he wrote the last Sunday when he became so seriously ill. Do you have time for it, Uncle?”
”Oh, yes, my son; it is Sunday. Just read on.”
”You will understand it better than I because you are older. There is something very good: 'I have missed very much; my whole life is wasted,' began the boy, and his voice sounded so solemn, almost as if he were reading the Word of G.o.d. 'Even though I would, I cannot improve anything. It is too late; it is too late! Souls pa.s.sed into eternity--it may be I did not bring salvation to them. They never come back that I may ask them forgiveness and love them. Oh, how glorious are the words, 'By grace ye are saved ... it is the gift of G.o.d.' In this holy gift I take my refuge, my holy G.o.d and Saviour. I know that You have pardoned me and have even taken the punishment that I merited on Yourself. I cling to Thy cross; I fall at Thy wounded feet, and thank Thee--Oh, so thank Thee; yes, I will praise eternally Thy holy name, O Jesus!'” read Palko.
”Thus believed Pastor Malina ...” but the boy stopped because the Bacha sat with his head bowed down, and cried aloud.
”'Even if I would, I couldn't make anything good. It is too late. The souls went on to accuse me,'” he repeated in his crying. ”That is what is pressing _me_ down to the ground, and all my good life since that time doesn't help anything ...”
The boy rested his curly head in the palms of his small hands.
”Uncle, will you not tell me what is worrying you so much? It could not be the sin that you wanted to drown your Stephen, as Petrik told me?”
”Stephen didn't drown. I, when something is pressing me, confess it and feel easier at once.”
”The Apostle James says, 'Confess your sins one to another.' It is true I am only a boy, but I know already how the soul and the heart ache--and there is no comforter. But the Lord Jesus will grant it to me that I may be able to understand and to help you.”
The man looked at the boy. He stroked his whiskers. ”If I have to tell somebody about it as I have wished for years, it will suit me best to tell it to you. The Lord G.o.d gave you more wisdom than me, an old man, just as Samuel the boy had more than the old priest Eli.”
Bacha strode over to his stump where he usually sat. Palko lay beside him on the gra.s.s. He drew the Bible near him, and laid his hand on the head of Fido who cuddled close beside. Thus he waited patiently.
”Since Petrik told you what kind of a boy I was, I do not have to retell it again,” began the man presently. His whole appearance did not fit into that beautiful Sunday morning.
”Thus we both grew up, and I can say with a good conscience that Stephen and I loved each other very much. I could never forget that he did not tell our parents how I forsook him in his plight. He convinced me that our parents loved us both. All was well now and might have remained so always, had not mother after her sister's death brought to us her niece, Eva. She was a small beautiful girl. From the beginning she seemed to be afraid of me, but with Stephen she was at once, friendly, until I once saved him from vicious dogs. From that time she clung always to me. Thus it was as we grew up together, and after we were grown up. You cannot understand more now, therefore I can only tell you this much. When we became young men, there was no more beautiful girl to us in the whole wide world. It seemed to me that her black eyes shone brighter than all the stars, and that such lilies and roses as were on her face did not bloom on any bush. At that time there was a large immigration to America. Many times I wondered how people, just for the sake of mammon, could go so far into the world when in spite of our poverty it was so beautiful and lovely here. To me, the woods and meadows were like a paradise and in my heart all was song--like the heavens; but there is no paradise upon this earth and the heavens are too high. Once when I returned from work--it was already evening--mother and father sat in front of the house in consultation about us children, as they often did. I did not want to disturb them, therefore I sat down not very far away and listened.”
”Do you think, then,” said mother, ”that one of the children will have to go to America?”
”You see, my wife, there the people achieve something quicker than we do here. We suffer bravely and yet barely live,” sighed father. He was a good man but already worn out by hard labor.
”'And which one do you think should?' mother asked with a sigh.