Man and beast need one day of rest out of the seven on a job like this."

Austin was to see many trying places where neither his father nor his brother would be any help to him in his service to G.o.d, and it is well for his future progress that he learned right at the first to stand by his convictions. But it is not more true in his case than in the case of every young Christian. Those who will stand faithful in the tests of life are the ones who gain the crown at last. While it is true that G.o.d has promised to keep his children in the most trying circ.u.mstances, it is also true that the child must put his trust wholly in G.o.d and live obediently. The Christian can go through any dark place and endure any hardness if he keeps a firm trust in G.o.d and, his purpose strong and true, but he will falter in the smallest trials if he is not firm.

The young Christian need not hope to be always surrounded by those who are in sympathy with his religious life, but each must learn to serve G.o.d in spite of circ.u.mstances and surroundings. And the service of G.o.d is not a thing to be hidden away. If a man is a Christian, he will show it out every day. It will make a difference in his whole life. There will in all that he does and says be an influence for G.o.d and good. This is especially true of the young man who is thrown among those who are sinful and rough. The difference in the tone of his life and theirs is a constant reproof to sin that will, as in the case of Austin and his father, bring embarra.s.sment to the sinner.

The days moved by in quick succession, with very little variation in the order of the day's work. They rose early and worked late. Three meals a day were waiting for them in the tent, prepared by the faithful little cooks.

Only on Sunday was there a variation in the routine, and on that day Austin refused to go to the field at all.

The hay had been finished around the first camp and they had moved back to another good center, only in a few days to move again. Now they had come to their last camp, which was but ten miles from town. Another week or ten days would let them out of their job and they could go home, but often the last week is the longest week when one is isolated. Austin longed to be back to his Sunday-school and to meet again with the congregation at the little chapel.

"Father," he asked on Sat.u.r.day evening before the sixth Sunday out, "may I have a horse to ride to town tomorrow?"

"What do you want to go to town for? We are not especially needing anything," ungraciously replied his father.

"Tomorrow is Sunday and one team will be idle. I want to get back to my Sunday-school cla.s.s and to meet with the people in church once more. I will not ride fast if you will let me have a horse."

"No, you can not have a horse. I have them out here for work, not to run about," snapped the man.

Austin said no more and went quietly back to his reading. Mr. Hill thought he had scored a victory and felt elated accordingly, but Austin was only waiting to consider what his duty might be. In the morning he rose before day and prepared himself for a journey. He took nothing to hinder his progress, but with his Bible under his arm he set out for town. If he had no bad luck, he could get a part of the Sunday-school and all the preaching service.

"Where is Austin?" asked his father at the breakfast-table, for his place was vacant.

"He started for town before we were up. He wants to get there in time for church," said Amy.

"Ten miles to church. That is a record and no mistake," laughed Ned. Wilbur and his father joined him in the merriment, but Mr. Hill felt a twinge of conscience. "I might have let him have a horse if he was so determined to go," he said.

"I wonder how Austin made it this morning. Wonder if he will be back for work tomorrow," remarked Wilbur at the dinner-table.

Austin was entirely unmindful of these remarks. He walked the full ten miles to town and arrived in time for about half the Sunday-school. He was too late to teach his boys, but promised to be with them the next Sunday.

He went out to the house and rested during the afternoon and remained in town for the night service. He rose early the next morning and started back to his work, but this time he did not have to walk the whole way.

"Good morning, Parson, want a ride?" a cheery voice called. Austin looked up, a little abashed at being addressed as Parson, but glad for the offer.

"Thank you, sir, I should be glad to ride," he said, climbing in.

"I took you for a parson when I saw that book under your arm, but you look too young for the part," said the man looking at him curiously.

"No, I am not a preacher, but a hay-hand from Jenkin's ranch. I walked in to church yesterday, and am just getting back this morning."

"You are more serious about such things than some people I know, to walk that far to hear a sermon," laughed the man.

"Perhaps, but I find it worth being serious about," good-naturedly replied Austin.

The ride carried him within a short distance of his work, and he was ready to be in his place when the gra.s.s was dry enough to cut. He felt none the worse for his journey, and greatly refreshed in spirit for having met with the people of G.o.d.

Before the week was out they had finished the last acre of cutting, and topped the last stack. It was a thankful family of sunburned people who retraced their steps to their home at the edge of town.

CHAPTER 19

INDECISION AND RESTLESSNESS

It was now the middle of November, and the children were not yet in school.

Austin's first duty after coming back from the hay-fields was to get them ready and started in for the rest of the winter. He himself would have to work every day to help with the support of the family. No time now for him to think of going to school, but the younger five should have a better opportunity than he had been given. Such was his vow as he started them off the next Monday morning. The children were delighted to be back in Sunday-school and to begin their school-year. The time spent in the opens had greatly increased their appreciation of home.

But troubles were ahead. The warfare between Austin and his father waged harder than ever. They had no common point of contact in their natures.

Austin had a clear, definite conception of duty and right, while his father's conception of such things was unusually dim and vague. Austin not only saw and understood his own duty, but he saw with equal clearness his father's duty. Though he was not a boy to nag, yet so strong was his personality that his displeasure was keenly felt. Thus Henry Hill felt continually under criticism. He was lashed for every slip and lapse from duty by the unspoken condemnation of this clear-eyed, strong-souled son of his, and made extremely uncomfortable.

Austin was almost as restless as his father. He had continually to fight a disgust and hatred that should have no part in a Christian's emotions. And he longed to be of service in the world. It was the call of youth in his veins that stirred these restless longings, but Austin had no one to explain this to him. It is not nature that a boy should settle down to carry a man's responsibilities, and any boy who has it to do will either become a drudge or will suffer with restless longings that can hardly be controlled.

"I am out of work again and do not know where in these parts I can get the kind I want. While you are here to stay with the children, I believe I will get out and look around a while. Maybe I can locate something more suitable in another town," said Henry Hill to his son one day.

It was the same old story. Restlessness, dissatisfaction, wanderl.u.s.t, irresponsibility, shirking of duty. Austin's lips curled just a little in scorn before he answered his father.

"Better get you a steady job here and settle down and keep the children in school. Even if you can not get just what you might want, you can have plenty of good-paying work, and be at home. Something brought in every week for the support of the children is needed here more than anything else."

"I can not see my way clear to do that, Austin. While I am sticking with a poor job here, the very kind I want might be getting away from me. The thing to do in a case like this is to get out and hustle and find what you want," reasoned the father.

"Well, as you will. But I shall need help to get on with the children. I can not do my duty by them and yet fully support them."

"Do not worry about that. I usually keep up my part of everything," said the father.

But he went away leaving practically nothing with Austin for the care of the children, and he was not seen in those parts again. Occasional letters came from him, and sometimes a little money accompanied these letters, but for the most part it was the labors of Austin's hands that kept the wolf from the door.

It was the beginning of winter, the season when household expenses are the highest, and it was a hard struggle for the boy to carry the whole load all the weary weeks. The care of the children also was great. The irresponsible nature of their father ruled in some of their natures, and to Austin it at times seemed there was no use trying to make good citizens of them. But he remembered his mother and how hard she would have struggled to keep them together, and what efforts she would have made to bring them up right, and for her sake he struggled on. He hoped for nothing from the older boys, for they paid little attention to him and the children.

"Is Hill about anywhere?" asked a rough voice at the door.

"No, sir, he is not at home. Is there anything I can do for you!" asked Austin politely.

"No, perhaps not. I wanted to see him. He justly owes me a sum of money, and as I am needing it now I wanted to see if he would come across with it," answered the man gruffly.

Austin had not known of any such debt and now inquired of his caller until he had the man's side of the story. Later he investigated the matter until he was satisfied that it was a just debt. His father had left in his care a few hogs, and their sale would pay the debt and leave a little over. Austin was confident that his father would never come back and had intended not to pay the debt at all. He did not want such a blot on the family name, so determined to sell the hogs and pay the debt.

This he did, writing his father of the transaction, and receiving in reply a scorching reproof for his forwardness. He could not hope to be in his father's good graces for a long time after this deed. "If he does not want straight dealing, he had better not leave his business in my hands," was Austin's mental comment as he read the letter. Austin was free also at this time in writing very pointedly to his father of the family needs and to insist that more money should be forthcoming to meet current expenses. He had none of those lofty feelings that had stirred his young breast when he worked in Mr. Long's garden. He felt that he was being imposed upon.

At last the father sent the word that he had located the good job and was now ready for the family. He told Austin to dispose of the household goods and bring the children as soon as he could. But there was nothing to cheer Austin in doing this. It meant only another few months in a strange locality and then on again somewhere else. The only way for his father to settle down at all seemed to be for him to have the full responsibility of the children where he could not get away. Austin determined to give him a new lesson.

He disposed of the household goods, packed the bedding and things to be taken to the new home, and, putting the children on the train, sent them to their father; and he staid on with his work, for he had a good place. The children were unwilling for this, but Austin's patience had worn out, and he felt he could not carry his father's burden any farther.

Henry Hill was quite chagrined at the turn Austin had taken. He did not suppose the boy would leave the children again. But there was nothing else to do but take his load and carry it. Those weeks of waiting during the winter had been fruitful in the hearts of his children in developing in them all a genuine disregard for their father. Austin had not the ability of his mother to lead the children away from him and his influence. He had been so vexed with his father's behavior that he had lent an influence of disrespect to the children. Now that they were under their father's government, they grew every week more unruly and disobedient to him. He had no control over them. Even his dull eyes saw the danger into which Amy and Nell were drifting in the careless, unrestrained way they were taking. So in his helplessness he could only turn to Austin. Writing him something of his difficulties, he said: "I shall have to give up housekeeping entirely if you can not come, for the girls will get into trouble. They need some one over them who can manage them. They will not obey me at all."

It had been a number of weeks since he had sent the children away, and in that time Austin had been far from happy. He felt that he was not doing his duty, yet he could not under existing circ.u.mstances feel that he should take the entire care and support of the children. But this S. O. S. aroused him to a knowledge of the present duty, and he went directly home.

The change which had taken place in the children in the weeks he had been absent amazed him. There had been something about their new environments that had developed the worst that was in them. They now lived in town, and the girls had been running about at their will. They had fallen in with companions who were not doing them any good, and at the present rate of speed would soon be past any control at all.

Austin took up the home cares as well as he could, though with a sinking heart. He was terribly alone and helpless. And again he was plucked up from his church-home, a sheep out on the barren mountains, it seemed to him. And in looking ahead he could see nothing bright to work toward. But he did not lose hold of the throne of G.o.d and did not forget to seek comfort and strength in prayer. And G.o.d helped him in those days.