Part 13 (2/2)
Surprised, annoyed, and puzzled, Tom Brixton thrust both hands into his trousers pockets, turned round on his heel, and, without uttering a word, sauntered slowly away.
Fred Westly, in a bewildered frame of mind, followed his example, and the two friends were soon lost to view--swallowed up, as it were, by the Oregon wilderness.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
After walking through the woods a considerable distance in perfect silence--for the suddenness of the disaster seemed to have bereft the two friends of speech--Tom Brixton turned abruptly and said--
”Well, Fred, we're in a nice fix now. What is to be our next move in this interesting little game?”
Fred Westly shook his head with an air of profound perplexity, but said nothing.
”I've a good mind,” continued Tom, ”to return to Pine Tree Diggings, give myself up, and get hanged right off. It would be a good riddance to the world at large, and would relieve me of a vast deal of trouble.”
”There is a touch of selfishness in that speech, Tom--don't you think?-- for it would not relieve _me_ of trouble; to say nothing of your poor mother!”
”You're right, Fred. D'you know, it strikes me that I'm a far more selfish and despicable brute than I used to think myself.”
He looked at his companion with a sad sort of smile; nevertheless, there was a certain indefinable ring of sincerity in his tone.
”Tom,” said the other, earnestly, ”will you wait for me here for a few minutes while I turn aside to pray?”
”Certainly, old boy,” answered Tom, seating himself on a mossy bank.
”You know I cannot join you.”
”I know you can't, Tom. It would be mockery to pray to One in whom you don't believe; but as _I_ believe in G.o.d, the Bible, and prayer, you'll excuse my detaining you, just for--”
”Say no more, Fred. Go; I shall wait here for you.”
A slight s.h.i.+ver ran through Brixton's frame as he sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands.
”G.o.d help me!” he exclaimed, under a sudden impulse, ”I've come down _very_ low, G.o.d help me!”
Fred soon returned.
”You prayed for guidance, I suppose?” said Tom, as his friend sat down beside him.
”I did.”
”Well, what is the result?”
”There is no result as yet--except, of course, the calmer state of my mind, now that I have committed our case into our Father's hands.”
”_Your_ Father's, you mean.”
”No, I mean _our_, for He is your father as well as mine, whether you admit it or not. Jesus has bought you and paid for you, Tom, with His own blood. You are not your own.”
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