It was thought
best that all should remain in Mr. Craig's shack, not knowing what might
happen; and so we lay where we could and we needed none to sing us to
sleep.
When I awoke, stiff and sore, it was to find breakfast ready and old man
Nelson in charge. As we were seated, Craig came in, and I saw that he
was not the man of the night before. His courage had come back, his face
was quiet and his eye clear; he was his own man again.
'Geordie has been out all night, but has failed to find Billy,' he
announced quietly.
We did not talk much; Graeme and I worried with our broken bones,
and the others suffered from a general morning depression. But, after
breakfast, as the men were beginning to move, Craig took down his Bible,
and saying--
'Wait a few minutes, men!' he read slowly, in his beautiful clear voice,
that psalm for all fighters--
'God is our refuge and strength,'
and soon to the noble words--
'The Lord of Hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our refuge.'
How the mighty words pulled us together, lifted us till we grew ashamed
of our ignoble rage and of our ignoble depression!
And then Craig prayed in simple, straight-going words.
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