Like
the foxes and the wolves, he had been an animal of prey and had looked
upon life and death with hardly more consideration than they, and with
the stoical indifference of his savage Indian ancestors.
But for some inexplicable reason this night the white half of his
nature had been awakened and he found himself thinking of what it
meant to die--to cease to be, with the world going on and on
afterwards just as though nothing had happened. Then the teachings of
a missionary whom he had heard preach in Nova Scotia came to him. He
remembered what had been said of eternal happiness or eternal
torment--that one or the other state awaited the soul of every one
after death. Then a great terror took possession of him. If Bob Gray
died, as he certainly must in this storm, _he_ would be responsible
for it, and _his_ soul would be consigned to eternal torment--the
terrible torment to last forever and forever, depicted by the
missionary. He had committed many sins in his life, but they were of
the past and forgotten. This was of the present. He could already, in
his frenzied imagination see Dick Blake, the avenger. Dick would
shoot him. That was certain--and then--eternal torment.
The wind moaned outside, and then rose to a shriek. He sprang up and
looked wildly about him.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98