Next day no one went to work, for to all it seemed a sacred day. They
carried him into the little church, and there Mr. Craig spoke of his
long, hard fight, and of his final victory; for he died without a fear,
and with love to the men who, not knowing, had been his death. And there
was no bitterness in any heart, for Mr. Craig read the story of the
sheep, and told how gently He had taken Billy home; but, though no word
was spoken, it was there the League was made again.
They laid him under the pines, beside Lewis Mavor; and the miners threw
sprigs of evergreen into the open grave. When Slavin, sobbing bitterly,
brought his sprig, no one stopped him, though all thought it strange.
As we turned to leave the grave, the light from the evening sun came
softly through the gap in the mountains, and, filling the valley,
touched the trees and the little mound beneath with glory. And I thought
of that other glory, which is brighter than the sun, and was not sorry
that poor Billy's weary fight was over; and I could not help agreeing
with Craig that it was there the League had its revenge.
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