p. 9 | LEON by S. E. S. Shankland

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · May 14, 1896

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 22, No. 20.

LEON

By S. E. S. Shankland

BY S. E. S. SHANKLAND.

“THE case has been decided in Graham’s favor, and his little farm is saved,” said Mr. Wray. “The poor fellow has worried so about the matter, I wish he could have the news before night, if possible. He was kind to me when I was a struggling student of your age, Leon. Would you mind riding out there, and taking a copy of the decree of the court? It will fairly add ten years to the old man’s life, and you could get back by bedtime.”

“Yes, yes, father,” responded the boy cordially. “I should like the trip, especially on as good a roadster as our Bellair.”

“But dinner will not be ready for two hours yet, and then where is the dear child to get his supper?” queried the thoughtful mother.

“O, trust me for that, mother!” laughed Leon. “Some biscuits in my pocket will be dinner enough, and I can stop at Darwin’s, just this side of the creek, for supper.”

So the active lad of fifteen was soon enjoying the fresh country air, astride of his beloved Bellair. Leon had forgotten his biscuits, but he did not mind. He wanted to see the joy which would smooth old Graham’s wrinkled face, and relieve the strained look of his kindly eyes.

Suddenly he halted by an expanse of water spreading over a wide area of low ground.

“Hello, Pete!” he called, turning back and meeting a man whom he had previously passed, “why didn’t you tell me I could not go on?”

The man looked enviously at the well-kept horse and glowing rider, and growled, with a surly grin:—

“None o’ my business.”

“Other folks’ benefit is always our business,” returned Leon pleasantly; “and, Peter, it is my business to warn you that you are on a risky road. The saloon road leads to the gutter. Better turn back while you can.”

Owing to the long circuit he had to make, it was nearly night when he drew up at Darwin’s.

“Come in,” urged the farmer, whose house and store stood on the main road. “You and the horse ought to be fed before you try

to cross Caney Creek. It’ll be hard fording; for the water is swift.”

But Leon would waste no time.

“I must get back home to-night, or mother will be uneasy. We can wait till we reach Mr. Graham’s,” he said, patting Bellair and hastening on.

“I can’t help thinking of that boy,” said Mrs. Darwin, as darkness fell upon the lonely fields, and through the stillness came the sound of rushing water. “The creek was rising fast the last we heard, and we ought to have kept him here till morning. Hark! there he is now.”

They threw open the door, and Mrs. Darwin screamed with terror as the lamp revealed Bellair, trembling and dripping, the saddle still upon him, but no Leon!

It was a black night. Nothing could be seen beyond the faint circle of the lantern’s gleam; and the roar of Caney Creek, now a raging torrent, seemed to swallow up the shouts of willing neighbors who turned out to assist in the search. Mrs. Darwin herself rubbed down Bellair, and made a place for him in the barn, all the men on the place having gone to the creek. Beyond some bruises and his fright, the animal was unhurt, but his noble head drooped, and the tender-hearted woman wept in sympathy with his evident sense of loss.

Some of the searchers returned, shaking their heads at all inquiries, and silently one of them rode away to the city, a bearer of tidings which would plunge a household into mourning.

But Leon was not sent on an errand of mercy to be lost in Caney Creek.

When Bellair was swept off his feet, an overhanging bough caught his young master, and the boy swung himself safely above the whirling, foaming flood. This oak tree grew near a sulphur spring on the bank of the creek, where Leon had before picnicked. But now, as near as he could guess, it was in the very midst of the furious stream. It would stand, however; he had no fear for the roots of a century’s growth. Could he keep hold till daylight? His muscles were strong, and he had found a crotch where he might lean—but the agony of loneliness! Would no answer come to his repeated calls?

At last he thought he distinguished movements on the bank, and soon discovered that a fire was being kindled, and a boat prepared. The searchers who had remained were evidently making ready to pass the night by the river, and Leon began to catch the voices of Darwin and the others of the searching party. He could scarcely hope to make them hear; for the strong wind bore his own voice away from the figures outlined against the bright blaze. But he must keep them, if possible, from venturing to his rescue; for now and then a great log floated by, and their risk would be more than his.

“Stay back!” he shouted. “I’m all right. Wait till morning.”

Fortunately they heard, and watched with him all the long night through. The boy grew stiff and chilled, and tears sprang to his eyes as he reflected that the light would not go out at home either; for he had promised to return, and he always kept his word. Then came thoughts of another home awaiting him, and of a Father whose love was infinitely greater than that of earthly parents.

“I warned Peter that he was on the wrong road, but am I any more on the right road than he? I have not taken Jesus as my Saviour, and it is only ‘he that believeth’ who ‘hath everlasting life.’ Is that all I have to do—only to trust him? Why, I am trusting my weight to the branches of this tree; surely I can trust myself, body and soul, to the love and mercy of Christ. I will, right now. God help me!”

And such peace and comfort filled his heart that he knew he was not alone. He had listened to the Holy Spirit, and a divine presence made him calm and happy, even in the midst of his danger.

With the blessed dawn a boat steered cautiously between driftwood and eddies, and the first face recognized among the rowers was that of old Mr. Graham, who had crossed the river the night before, and had been unable to return. Leon at once delivered to him the document which had almost cost his life.

“God bless you, my boy,” ejaculated the old man, in husky tones. “You are a faithful son. May you be as faithful to your Father in heaven!”

Leon would wait for nothing when he learned that his parents had been alarmed. Mounting Bellair, who was all right again after his night’s rest, he galloped home, and burst into the house, white and exhausted, to find preparation making to drag Caney Creek.

“Here I am, father and mother; and I gave Mr. Graham the paper, and—and I know you were both praying for me.”

But who was that leaning against the wall, shaking and sobbing? It was Peter Robbins, crying:—

“Lord, have mercy; what shall I do?—what shall I do?”

“Peter met the man from Darwin’s, and came along with him, greatly distressed for us and for you, my son,” explained Mr. Wray. “He wanted to go to Caney Creek himself—but, thank God, he will not be needed.”

“O Lord, I’m such a sinner! I was that wicked I wouldn’t have cared, yesterday, if the horse had slipped into the high water, and both of ’em been drowned. But I couldn’t get away from his pleasant look and his words, ‘Pete, you’re on a risky road,’ and if he hadn’t come back, I’d have thrown my worthless self into Caney Creek; for I see what a sinner I am. I never did pray, but I want to pray now, and I don’t know how.”

“Don’t talk so, Peter,” pleaded Leon. “I was a sinner too, and on a risky road, as well as you; for I was trusting to my own goodness. We can not trust anything but Christ’s love and mercy. Just give yourself to him; you can do it right now.”

His mother led Leon away for food and rest, and Peter stayed to listen to Mr. Wray’s kind instructions. The hard heart was at last softened by the working of God’s Spirit, and Peter yielded up his will to the will of Him who can “save to the uttermost.”

Ah! there was joy, not only in that earthly home, but among the angels, over the earnest, brave youth, and the repenting wanderer, who had both come by the same path of faith into the service and keeping of the heavenly Father.—The Examiner.