Excellent Readings: Sonnet CII by William Shakespeare (in English)

My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming,
The owner's tongue doth publish every where.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
   Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue:
   Because I would not dull you with my song.

Friday's Sung Word: "Você Foi o Meu Azar" by Noel Rosa and Arthúr Costa (in Portuguese)

Você foi o meu azar
Que estragou a minha vida
Por ser falsa e covencida
Para me fazer chorar
Quis me deixar
Hoje volta arrependida
Por ser mal-sucedida

Depois da sua saída
Fiquei logo bem de vida
Foi se embora o meu azar
Se quiser posso provar
Que até mesmo o bicheiro
Paga sempre meu dinheiro
Quando acerto no milhar

Com você passava fome
E sofri coisas sem nome
Andei cedo, sem tostão
Vou explicar a razão
Que eu vivia tão pesado
Que até fui atropelado
por um carrinho de mão

Se você quiser voltar
Para a vida melhorar
Temos que fazer assim
Para o nosso azar ter fim
Para ver se você me ama
Vivo a descançar da cama
E você vai trabalhar pra mim
Você foi

 

 

 You can listen "Você Foi o Meu Azar" by Noel Rosa and Arthúr Costa here.

Thursday's Serial: “The Light of Western Stars” by Zane Grey (in English) - XV

 

XIX. Don Carlos

Stewart took Nels, Monty, and Nick Steele aside out of earshot, and they evidently entered upon an earnest colloquy. Presently the other cowboys were called. They all talked more or less, but the deep voice of Stewart predominated over the others. Then the consultation broke up, and the cowboys scattered.

“Rustle, you Indians!” ordered Stewart.

The ensuing scene of action was not reassuring to Madeline and her friends. They were quiet, awaiting some one to tell them what to do. At the offset the cowboys appeared to have forgotten Madeline. Some of them ran off into the woods, others into the open, grassy places, where they rounded up the horses and burros. Several cowboys spread tarpaulins upon the ground and began to select and roll small packs, evidently for hurried travel. Nels mounted his horse to ride down the trail. Monty and Nick Steele went off into the grove, leading their horses. Stewart climbed up a steep jumble of stone between two sections of low, cracked cliff back of the camp.

Castleton offered to help the packers, and was curtly told he would be in the way. Madeline's friends all importuned her: Was there real danger? Were the guerrillas coming? Would a start be made at once for the ranch? Why had the cowboys suddenly become so different? Madeline answered as best she could; but her replies were only conjecture, and modified to allay the fears of her guests. Helen was in a white glow of excitement.

Soon cowboys appeared riding barebacked horses, driving in others and the burros. Some of these horses were taken away and evidently hidden in deep recesses between the crags. The string of burros were packed and sent off down the trail in charge of a cowboy. Nick Steele and Monty returned. Then Stewart appeared, clambering down the break between the cliffs.

His next move was to order all the baggage belonging to Madeline and her guests taken up the cliff. This was strenuous toil, requiring the need of lassoes to haul up the effects.

“Get ready to climb,” said Stewart, turning to Madelines party.

“Where?” asked Helen.

He waved his hand at the ascent to be made. Exclamations of dismay followed his gesture.

“Mr. Stewart, is there danger?” asked Dorothy; and her voice trembled.

This was the question Madeline had upon her lips to ask Stewart, but she could not speak it.

“No, there's no danger,” replied Stewart, “but we're taking precautions we all agreed on as best.”

Dorothy whispered that she believed Stewart lied. Castleton asked another question, and then Harvey followed suit. Mrs. Beck made a timid query.

“Please keep quiet and do as you're told,” said Stewart, bluntly.

At this juncture, when the last of the baggage was being hauled up the cliff, Monty approached Madeline and removed his sombrero. His black face seemed the same, yet this was a vastly changed Monty.

“Miss Hammond, I'm givin' notice I resign my job,” he said.

“Monty! What do you mean? What does Nels mean now, when danger threatens?”

“We jest quit. Thet's all,” replied Monty, tersely. He was stern and somber; he could not stand still; his eyes roved everywhere.

Castleton jumped up from the log where he had been sitting, and his face was very red.

“Mr. Price, does all this blooming fuss mean we are to be robbed or attacked or abducted by a lot of ragamuffin guerrillas?”

“You've called the bet.”

Dorothy turned a very pale face toward Monty.

“Mr. Price, you wouldn't—you couldn't desert us now? You and Mr. Nels—”

“Desert you?” asked Monty, blankly.

“Yes, desert us. Leave us when we may need you so much, with something dreadful coming.”

Monty uttered a short, hard laugh as he bent a strange look upon the girl.

“Me an' Nels is purty much scared, an' we're goin' to slope. Miss Dorothy, bein' as we've rustled round so much; it sorta hurts us to see nice young girls dragged off by the hair.”

Dorothy uttered a little cry and then became hysterical. Castleton for once was fully aroused.

“By Gad! You and your partner are a couple of blooming cowards. Where now is that courage you boasted of?”

Monty's dark face expressed extreme sarcasm.

“Dook, in my time I've seen some bright fellers, but you take the cake. It's most marvelous how bright you are. Figger'n' me an' Nels so correct. Say, Dook, if you don't git rustled off to Mexico an' roped to a cactus-bush you'll hev a swell story fer your English chums. Bah Jove! You'll tell 'em how you seen two old-time gun-men run like scared jack-rabbits from a lot of Greasers. Like hell you will! Unless you lie like the time you told about proddin' the lion. That there story allus—”

“Monty, shut up!” yelled Stewart, as he came hurriedly up. Then Monty slouched away, cursing to himself.

Madeline and Helen, assisted by Castleton, worked over Dorothy, and with some difficulty quieted her. Stewart passed several times without noticing them, and Monty, who had been so ridiculously eager to pay every little attention to Dorothy, did not see her at all. Rude it seemed; in Monty's ease more than that. Madeline hardly knew what to make of it.

Stewart directed cowboys to go to the head of the open place in the cliff and let down lassoes. Then, with little waste of words, he urged the women toward this rough ladder of stones.

“We want to hide you,” he said, when they demurred. “If the guerrillas come we'll tell them you've all gone down to the ranch. If we have to fight you'll be safe up there.”

Helen stepped boldly forward and let Stewart put the loop of a lasso round her and tighten it. He waved his hand to the cowboys above.

“Just walk up, now,” he directed Helen.

It proved to the watchers to be an easy, safe, and rapid means of scaling the steep passage. The men climbed up without assistance. Mrs. Beck, as usual, had hysteria; she half walked and was half dragged up. Stewart supported Dorothy with one arm, while with the other he held to the lasso. Ambrose had to carry Christine. The Mexican women required no assistance. Edith Wayne and Madeline climbed last; and, once up, Madeline saw a narrow bench, thick with shrubs, and overshadowed by huge, leaning crags. There were holes in the rock, and dark fissures leading back. It was a rough, wild place. Tarpaulins and bedding were then hauled up, and food and water. The cowboys spread comfortable beds in several of the caves, and told Madeline and her friends to be as quiet as possible, not to make a light, and to sleep dressed, ready for travel at a moment's notice.

After the cowboys had gone down it was not a cheerful group left there in the darkening twilight. Castleton prevailed upon them to eat.

“This is simply great,” whispered Helen.

“Oh, it's awful!” moaned Dorothy. “It's your fault, Helen. You prayed for something to happen.”

“I believe it's a horrid trick those cowboys are playing,” said Mrs. Beck.

Madeline assured her friends that no trick was being played upon them, and that she deplored the discomfort and distress, but felt no real alarm. She was more inclined to evasive kindness here than to sincerity, for she had a decided uneasiness. The swift change in the manner and looks of her cowboys had been a shock to her. The last glance she had of Stewart's face, then stern, almost sad, and haggard with worry, remained to augment her foreboding.

Darkness appeared to drop swiftly down; the coyotes began their haunting, mournful howls; the stars showed and grew brighter; the wind moaned through the tips of the pines. Castleton was restless. He walked to and fro before the overhanging shelf of rock, where his companions sat lamenting, and presently he went out to the ledge of the bench. The cowboys below had built a fire, and the light from it rose in a huge, fan-shaped glow. Castleton's little figure stood out black against this light. Curious and anxious also, Madeline joined him and peered down from the cliff. The distance was short, and occasionally she could distinguish a word spoken by the cowboys. They were unconcernedly cooking and eating. She marked the absence of Stewart, and mentioned it to Castleton. Silently Castleton pointed almost straight down, and there in the gloom stood Stewart, with the two stag-hounds at his feet.

Presently Nick Steele silenced the camp-fire circle by raising a warning hand. The cowboys bent their heads, listening. Madeline listened with all her might. She heard one of the hounds whine, then the faint beat of horse's hoofs. Nick spoke again and turned to his supper, and the other men seemed to slacken in attention. The beat of hoofs grew louder, entered the grove, then the circle of light. The rider was Nels. He dismounted, and the sound of his low voice just reached Madeline.

“Gene, it's Nels. Somethin' doin',” Madeline heard one of the cowboys call, softly.

“Send him over,” replied Stewart.

Nels stalked away from the fire.

“See here, Nels, the boys are all right, but I don't want them to know everything about this mix-up,” said Stewart, as Nels came up. “Did you find the girl?”

Madeline guessed that Stewart referred to the Mexican girl Bonita.

“No. But I met”—Madeline did not catch the name—“an' he was wild. He was with a forest-ranger. An' they said Pat Hawe had trailed her an' was takin' her down under arrest.”

Stewart muttered deep under his breath, evidently cursing.

“Wonder why he didn't come on up here?” he queried, presently. “He can see a trail.”

“Wal, Gene, Pat knowed you was here all right, fer thet ranger said Pat hed wind of the guerrillas, an' Pat said if Don Carlos didn't kill you—which he hoped he'd do—then it 'd be time enough to put you in jail when you come down.”

“He's dead set to arrest me, Nels.”

“An' he'll do it, like the old lady who kept tavern out West. Gene, the reason thet red-faced coyote didn't trail you up here is because he's scared. He allus was scared of you. But I reckon he's shore scared to death of me an' Monty.”

“Well, we'll take Pat in his turn. The thing now is, when will that Greaser stalk us, and what'll we do when he comes?”

“My boy, there's only one way to handle a Greaser. I shore told you thet. He means rough toward us. He'll come smilin' up, all soci'ble like, insinuatin' an' sweeter 'n a woman. But he's treacherous; he's wuss than an Indian. An', Gene, we know for a positive fact how his gang hev been operatin' between these hills an' Agua Prieta. They're no nervy gang of outlaws like we used to hev. But they're plumb bad. They've raided and murdered through the San Luis Pass an' Guadalupe Canyon. They've murdered women, an' wuss than thet, both north an' south of Agua Prieta. Mebbe the U. S. cavalry don't know it, an' the good old States; but we, you an' me an' Monty an' Nick, we know it. We know jest about what thet rebel war down there amounts to. It's guerrilla war, an' shore some harvest-time fer a lot of cheap thieves an' outcasts.”

“Oh, you're right, Nels. I'm not disputing that,” replied Stewart. “If it wasn't for Miss Hammond and the other women, I'd rather enjoy seeing you and Monty open up on that bunch. I'm thinking I'd be glad to meet Don Carlos. But Miss Hammond! Why, Nels, such a woman as she is would never recover from the sight of real gun-play, let alone any stunts with a rope. These Eastern women are different. I'm not belittling our Western women. It's in the blood. Miss Hammond is—is—”

“Shore she is,” interrupted Nels; “but she's got a damn sight more spunk than you think she has, Gene Stewart. I'm no thick-skulled cow. I'd hate somethin' powerful to hev Miss Hammond see any rough work, let alone me an' Monty startin' somethin'. An' me an' Monty'll stick to you, Gene, as long as seems reasonable. Mind, ole feller, beggin' your pardon, you're shore stuck on Miss Hammond, an' over-tender not to hurt her feelin's or make her sick by lettin' some blood. We're in bad here, an' mebbe we'll hev to fight. Sabe, senor? Wal, we do you can jest gamble thet Miss Hammond'll be game. An' I'll bet you a million pesos thet if you got goin' onct, an' she seen you as I've seen you—wal, I know what she'd think of you. This old world ain't changed much. Some women may be white-skinned an' soft-eyed an' sweet-voiced an' high-souled, but they all like to see a man! Gene, here's your game. Let Don Carlos come along. Be civil. If he an' his gang are hungry, feed 'em. Take even a little overbearin' Greaser talk. Be blind if he wants his gang to steal somethin'. Let him think the women hev mosied down to the ranch. But if he says you're lyin'—if he as much as looks round to see the women—jest jump him same as you jumped Pat Hawe. Me an' Monty'll hang back fer thet, an' if your strong bluff don't go through, if the Don's gang even thinks of flashin' guns, then we'll open up. An' all I got to say is if them Greasers stand fer real gun-play they'll be the fust I ever seen.”

“Nels, there are white men in that gang,” said Stewart.

“Shore. But me an' Monty'll be thinkin' of thet. If they start anythin' it'll hev to be shore quick.”

“All right, Nels, old friend, and thanks,” replied Stewart. Nels returned to the camp-fire, and Stewart resumed his silent guard.

Madeline led Castleton away from the brink of the wall.

“By Jove! Cowboys are blooming strange folk!” he exclaimed. “They are not what they pretend to be.”

“Indeed, you are right,” replied Madeline. “I cannot understand them. Come, let us tell the others that Nels and Monty were only talking and do not intend to leave us. Dorothy, at least, will be less frightened if she knows.”

Dorothy was somewhat comforted. The others, however, complained of the cowboys' singular behavior. More than once the idea was advanced that an elaborate trick had been concocted. Upon general discussion this idea gained ground. Madeline did not combat it, because she saw it tended to a less perturbed condition of mind among her guests. Castleton for once proved that he was not absolutely obtuse, and helped along the idea.

They sat talking in low voices until a late hour. The incident now began to take on the nature of Helen's long-yearned-for adventure. Some of the party even grew merry in a subdued way. Then, gradually, one by one they tired and went to bed. Helen vowed she could not sleep in a place where there were bats and crawling things. Madeline fancied, however, that they all went to sleep while she lay wide-eyed, staring up at the black bulge of overhanging rock and beyond the starry sky.

To keep from thinking of Stewart and the burning anger he had caused her to feel for herself, Madeline tried to keep her mind on other things. But thought of him recurred, and each time there was a hot commotion in her breast hard to stifle. Intelligent reasoning seemed out of her power. In the daylight it had been possible for her to be oblivious to Stewart's deceit after the moment of its realization. At night, however, in the strange silence and hovering shadows of gloom, with the speaking stars seeming to call to her, with the moan of the wind in the pines, and the melancholy mourn of coyotes in the distance, she was not able to govern her thought and emotion. The day was practical, cold; the night was strange and tense. In the darkness she had fancies wholly unknown to her in the bright light of the sun. She battled with a haunting thought. She had inadvertently heard Nels's conversation with Stewart; she had listened, hoping to hear some good news or to hear the worst; she had learned both, and, moreover, enlightenment on one point of Stewart's complex motives. He wished to spare her any sight that might offend, frighten, or disgust her. Yet this Stewart, who showed a fineness of feeling that might have been wanting even in Boyd Harvey, maintained a secret rendezvous with that pretty, abandoned Bonita. Here always the hot shame, like a live, stinging, internal fire, abruptly ended Madeline's thought. It was intolerable, and it was the more so because she could neither control nor understand it. The hours wore on, and at length, as the stars began to pale and there was no sound whatever, she fell asleep.

She was called out of her slumber. Day had broken bright and cool. The sun was still below the eastern crags. Ambrose, with several other cowboys, had brought up buckets of spring-water, and hot coffee and cakes. Madeline's party appeared to be none the worse for the night's experience. Indeed, the meager breakfast might have been as merrily partaken of as it was hungrily had not Ambrose enjoined silence.

“They're expectin' company down below,” he said.

This information and the summary manner in which the cowboys soon led the party higher up among the ruined shelves of rock caused a recurrence of anxiety. Madeline insisted on not going beyond a projection of cliff from which she could see directly down into the camp. As the vantage-point was one affording concealment, Ambrose consented, but he placed the frightened Christine near Madeline and remained there himself.

“Ambrose, do you really think the guerrillas will come?” asked Madeline.

“Sure. We know. Nels just rode in and said they were on their way up. Miss Hammond, can I trust you? You won't let out a squeal if there's a fight down there? Stewart told me to hide you out of sight or keep you from lookin'.”

“I promise not to make any noise,” replied Madeline. Madeline arranged her coat so that she could lie upon it, and settled down to wait developments. There came a slight rattling of stones in the rear. She turned to see Helen sliding down a bank with a perplexed and troubled cowboy. Helen came stooping low to where Madeline lay and said: “I am going to see what happens, if I die in the attempt! I can stand it if you can.” She was pale and big-eyed. Ambrose promptly swore at the cowboy who had let her get away from him. “Take a half-hitch on her yourself an' see where you end up,” replied the fellow, and disappeared in the jumble of rocks. Ambrose, finding words useless, sternly and heroically prepared to carry Helen back to the others. He laid hold of her. In a fury, with eyes blazing, Helen whispered:

“Let go of me! Majesty, what does this fool mean?”

Madeline laughed. She knew Helen, and had marked the whisper, when ordinarily Helen would have spoken imperiously, and not low. Madeline explained to her the exigency of the situation. “I might run, but I'll never scream,” said Helen. With that Ambrose had to be content to let her stay. However, he found her a place somewhat farther back from Madeline's position, where he said there was less danger of her being seen. Then he sternly bound her to silence, tarried a moment to comfort Christine, and returned to where Madeline lay concealed. He had been there scarcely a moment when he whispered:

“I hear hosses. The guerrillas are comin'.”

Madeline's hiding-place was well protected from possible discovery from below. She could peep over a kind of parapet, through an opening in the tips of the pines that reached up to the cliff, and obtain a commanding view of the camp circle and its immediate surroundings. She could not, however, see far either to right or left of the camp, owing to the obstructing foliage. Presently the sound of horses' hoofs quickened the beat of her pulse and caused her to turn keener gaze upon the cowboys below.

Although she had some inkling of the course Stewart and his men were to pursue, she was not by any means prepared for the indifference she saw. Frank was asleep, or pretended to be. Three cowboys were lazily and unconcernedly attending to camp-fire duties, such as baking biscuits, watching the ovens, and washing tins and pots. The elaborate set of aluminum plates, cups, etc., together with the other camp fixtures that had done service for Madeline's party, had disappeared. Nick Steele sat with his back to a log, smoking his pipe. Another cowboy had just brought the horses closer into camp, where they stood waiting to be saddled. Nels appeared to be fussing over a pack. Stewart was rolling a cigarette. Monty had apparently nothing to do for the present except whistle, which he was doing much more loudly than melodiously. The whole ensemble gave an impression of careless indifference.

The sound of horses' hoofs grew louder and slowed its beat. One of the cowboys pointed down the trail, toward which several of his comrades turned their heads for a moment, then went on with their occupations.

Presently a shaggy, dusty horse bearing a lean, ragged, dark rider rode into camp and halted. Another followed, and another. Horses with Mexican riders came in single file and stopped behind the leader.

The cowboys looked up, and the guerrillas looked down. “Buenos dias, senor,” ceremoniously said the foremost guerrilla.

By straining her ears Madeline heard that voice, and she recognized it as belonging to Don Carlos. His graceful bow to Stewart was also familiar. Otherwise she would never have recognized the former elegant vaquero in this uncouth, roughly dressed Mexican.

Stewart answered the greeting in Spanish, and, waving his hand toward the camp-fire, added in English, “Get down and eat.”

The guerrillas were anything but slow in complying. They crowded to the fire, then spread in a little circle and squatted upon the ground, laying their weapons beside them. In appearance they tallied with the band of guerrillas that had carried Madeline up into the foothills, only this band was larger and better armed. The men, moreover, were just as hungry and as wild and beggarly. The cowboys were not cordial in their reception of this visit, but they were hospitable. The law of the desert had always been to give food and drink to wayfaring men, whether lost or hunted or hunting.

“There's twenty-three in that outfit,” whispered Ambrose, “includin' four white men. Pretty rummy outfit.”

“They appear to be friendly enough,” whispered Madeline.

“Things down there ain't what they seem,” replied Ambrose.

“Ambrose, tell me—explain to me. This is my opportunity. As long as you will let me watch them, please let me know the—the real thing.”

“Sure. But recollect, Miss Hammond, that Gene'll give it to me good if he ever knows I let you look and told you what's what. Well, decent-like Gene is seen' them poor devils get a square meal. They're only a lot of calf-thieves in this country. Across the border they're bandits, some of them, the others just riffraff outlaws. That rebel bluff doesn't go down with us. I'd have to see first before I'd believe them Greasers would fight. They're a lot of hard-ridin' thieves, and they'd steal a fellow's blanket or tobacco. Gene thinks they're after you ladies—to carry you off. But Gene—Oh, Gene's some highfalutin in his ideas lately. Most of us boys think the guerrillas are out to rob—that's all.”

Whatever might have been the secret motive of Don Carlos and his men, they did not allow it to interfere with a hearty appreciation of a generous amount of food. Plainly, each individual ate all that he was able to eat at the time. They jabbered like a flock of parrots; some were even merry, in a kind of wild way. Then, as each and every one began to roll and smoke the inevitable cigarette of the Mexican, there was a subtle change in manner. They smoked and looked about the camp, off into the woods, up at the crags, and back at the leisurely cowboys. They had the air of men waiting for something.

“Senor,” began Don Carlos, addressing Stewart. As he spoke he swept his sombrero to indicate the camp circle.

Madeline could not distinguish his words, but his gesture plainly indicated a question in regard to the rest of the camping party. Stewart's reply and the wave of his hand down the trail meant that his party had gone home. Stewart turned to some task, and the guerrilla leader quietly smoked. He looked cunning and thoughtful. His men gradually began to manifest a restlessness, noticeable in the absence of former languor and slow puffing of cigarette smoke. Presently a big-boned man with a bullet head and a blistered red face of evil coarseness got up and threw away his cigarette. He was an American.

“Hey, cull,” he called in loud voice, “ain't ye goin' to cough up a drink?”

“My boys don't carry liquor on the trail,” replied Stewart. He turned now to face the guerrillas.

“Haw, haw! I heerd over in Rodeo thet ye was gittin' to be shore some fer temperance,” said this fellow. “I hate to drink water, but I guess I've gotter do it.”

He went to the spring, sprawled down to drink, and all of a sudden he thrust his arm down in the water to bring forth a basket. The cowboys in the hurry of packing had neglected to remove this basket; and it contained bottles of wine and liquors for Madeline's guests. They had been submerged in the spring to keep them cold. The guerrilla fumbled with the lid, opened it, and then got up, uttering a loud roar of delight.

Stewart made an almost imperceptible motion, as if to leap forward; but he checked the impulse, and after a quick glance at Nels he said to the guerrilla:

“Guess my party forgot that. You're welcome to it.” Like bees the guerrillas swarmed around the lucky finder of the bottles. There was a babel of voices. The drink did not last long, and it served only to liberate the spirit of recklessness. The several white outlaws began to prowl around the camp; some of the Mexicans did likewise; others waited, showing by their ill-concealed expectancy the nature of their thoughts.

It was the demeanor of Stewart and his comrades that puzzled Madeline. Apparently they felt no anxiety or even particular interest. Don Carlos, who had been covertly watching them, now made his scrutiny open, even aggressive. He looked from Stewart to Nels and Monty, and then to the other cowboys. While some of his men prowled around the others watched him, and the waiting attitude had taken on something sinister. The guerrilla leader seemed undecided, but not in any sense puzzled. When he turned his cunning face upon Nels and Monty he had the manner of a man in whom decision was lacking.

In her growing excitement Madeline had not clearly heard Ambrose's low whispers and she made an effort to distract some of her attention from those below to the cowboy crouching beside her.

The quality, the note of Ambrose's whisper had changed. It had a slight sibilant sound.

“Don't be mad if sudden-like I clap my hands over your eyes, Miss Hammond,” he was saying. “Somethin's brewin' below. I never seen Gene so cool. That's a dangerous sign in him. And look, see how the boys are workin' together! Oh, it's slow and accident-like, but I know it's sure not accident. That foxy Greaser knows, too. But maybe his men don't. If they are wise they haven't sense enough to care. The Don, though—he's worried. He's not payin' so much attention to Gene, either. It's Nels and Monty he's watchin'. And well he need do it! There, Nick and Frank have settled down on that log with Booly. They don't seem to be packin' guns. But look how heavy their vests hang. A gun in each side! Those boys can pull a gun and flop over that log quicker than you can think. Do you notice how Nels and Monty and Gene are square between them guerrillas and the trail up here? It doesn't seem on purpose, but it is. Look at Nels and Monty. How quiet they are confabbin' together, payin' no attention to the guerrillas. I see Monty look at Gene, then I see Nels look at Gene. Well, it's up to Gene. And they're goin' to back him. I reckon, Miss Hammond, there'd be dead Greasers round that camp long ago if Nels and Monty were foot-loose. They're beholdin' to Gene. That's plain. And, Lord! how it tickles me to watch them! Both packin' two forty-fives, butts swingin' clear. There's twenty-four shots in them four guns. And there's twenty-three guerrillas. If Nels and Monty ever throw guns at that close range, why, before you'd know what was up there'd be a pile of Greasers. There! Stewart said something to the Don. I wonder what. I'll gamble it was something to get the Don's outfit all close together. Sure! Greasers have no sense. But them white guerrillas, they're lookin' some dubious. Whatever's comin' off will come soon, you can bet. I wish I was down there. But maybe it won't come to a scrap. Stewart's set on avoidin' that. He's a wonderful chap to get his way. Lord, though, I'd like to see him go after that overbearin' Greaser! See! the Don can't stand prosperity. All this strange behavior of cowboys is beyond his pulque-soaked brains. Then he's a Greaser. If Gene doesn't knock him on the head presently he'll begin to get over his scare, even of Nels and Monty. But Gene'll pick out the right time. And I'm gettin' nervous. I want somethin' to start. Never saw Nels in but one fight, then he just shot a Greaser's arm off for tryin' to draw on him. But I've heard all about him. And Monty! Monty's the real old-fashioned gun-man. Why, none of them stories, them lies he told to entertain the Englishman, was a marker to what Monty has done. What I don't understand is how Monty keeps so quiet and easy and peaceful-like. That's not his way, with such an outfit lookin' for trouble. O-ha! Now for the grand bluff. Looks like no fight at all!”

The guerrilla leader had ceased his restless steps and glances, and turned to Stewart with something of bold resolution in his aspect.

“Gracias, senor,” he said. “Adios.” He swept his sombrero in the direction of the trail leading down the mountain to the ranch; and as he completed the gesture a smile, crafty and jeering, crossed his swarthy face.

Ambrose whispered so low that Madeline scarcely heard him. “If the Greaser goes that way he'll find our horses and get wise to the trick. Oh, he's wise now! But I'll gamble he never even starts on that trail.”

Neither hurriedly nor guardedly Stewart rose out of his leaning posture and took a couple of long strides toward Don Carlos.

“Go back the way you came,” he fairly yelled; and his voice had the ring of a bugle.

Ambrose nudged Madeline; his whisper was tense and rapid: “Don't miss nothin'. Gene's called him. Whatever's comin' off will be here quick as lightnin'. See! I guess maybe that Greaser don't savvy good U. S. lingo. Look at that dirty yaller face turn green. Put one eye on Nels and Monty! That's great—just to see 'em. Just as quiet and easy. But oh, the difference! Bent and stiff—that means every muscle is like a rawhide riata. They're watchin' with eyes that can see the workin's of them Greasers' minds. Now there ain't a hoss-hair between them Greasers and hell!”

Don Carlos gave Stewart one long malignant stare; then he threw back his head, swept up the sombrero, and his evil smile showed gleaming teeth.

“Senor—” he began.

With magnificent bound Stewart was upon him. The guerrilla's cry was throttled in his throat. A fierce wrestling ensued, too swift to see clearly; then heavy, sodden blows, and Don Carlos was beaten to the ground. Stewart leaped back. Then, crouching with his hands on the butts of guns at his hips, he yelled, he thundered at the guerrillas. He had been quicker than a panther, and now his voice was so terrible that it curdled Madeline's blood, and the menace of deadly violence in his crouching position made her shut her eyes. But she had to open them. In that single instant Nels and Monty had leaped to Stewart's side. Both were bent down, with hands on the butts of guns at their hips. Nels's piercing yell seemed to divide Monty's roar of rage. Then they ceased, and echoes clapped from the crags. The silence of those three men crouching like tigers about to leap was more menacing than the nerve-racking yells.

Then the guerrillas wavered and broke and ran for their horses. Don Carlos rolled over, rose, and staggered away, to be helped upon his mount. He looked back, his pale and bloody face that of a thwarted demon. The whole band got into action and were gone in a moment.

“I knew it,” declared Ambrose. “Never seen a Greaser who could face gun-play. That was some warm. And Monty Price never flashed a gun! He'll never get over that. I reckon, Miss Harnmond, we're some lucky to avoid trouble. Gene had his way, as you seen. We'll be makin' tracks for the ranch in about two shakes.”

“Why?” whispered Madeline, breathlessly. She became conscious that she was weak and shaken.

“Because the guerrillas sure will get their nerve back, and come sneakin' on our trail or try to head us off by ambushin',” replied Ambrose. “That's their way. Otherwise three cowboys couldn't bluff a whole gang like that. Gene knows the nature of Greasers. They're white-livered. But I reckon we're in more danger now than before, unless we get a good start down the mountain. There! Gene's callin'. Come! Hurry!”

Helen had slipped down from her vantage-point, and therefore had not seen the last act in that little camp-fire drama. It seemed, however, that her desire for excitement was satisfied, for her face was pale and she trembled when she asked if the guerrillas were gone.

“I didn't see the finish, but those horrible yells were enough for me.”

Ambrose hurried the three women over the rough rocks, down the cliff. The cowboys below were saddling horses in haste. Evidently all the horses had been brought out of hiding. Swiftly, with regard only for life and limb, Madeline, Helen, and Christine were lowered by lassoes and half carried down to the level. By the time they were safely down the other members of the party appeared on the cliff above. They were in excellent spirits, appearing to treat the matter as a huge joke.

Ambrose put Christine on a horse and rode away through the pines; Frankie Slade did likewise with Helen. Stewart led Madeline's horse up to her, helped her to mount, and spoke one stern word, “Wait!” Then as fast as one of the women reached the level she was put upon a horse and taken away by a cowboy escort. Few words were spoken. Haste seemed to be the great essential. The horses were urged, and, once in the trail, spurred and led into a swift trot. One cowboy drove up four pack-horses, and these were hurriedly loaded with the party's baggage. Castleton and his companions mounted, and galloped off to catch the others in the lead. This left Madeline behind with Stewart and Nels and Monty.

“They're goin' to switch off at the holler thet heads near the trail a few miles down,” Nels was saying, as he tightened his saddle-girth. “Thet holler heads into a big canyon. Once in thet, it'll be every man fer hisself. I reckon there won't be anythin' wuss than a rough ride.”

Nels smiled reassuringly at Madeline, but he did not speak to her. Monty took her canteen and filled it at the spring and hung it over the pommel of her saddle. He put a couple of biscuits in the saddle-bag.

“Don't fergit to take a drink an' a bite as you're ridin' along,” he said. “An' don't worry, Miss Majesty. Stewart'll be with you, an' me an' Nels hangin' on the back-trail.”

His somber and sullen face did not change in its strange intensity, but the look in his eyes Madeline felt she would never forget. Left alone with these three men, now stripped of all pretense, she realized how fortune had favored her and what peril still hung in the balance. Stewart swung astride his big black, spurred him, and whistled. At the whistle Majesty jumped, and with swift canter followed Stewart. Madeline looked back to see Nels already up and Monty handing him a rifle. Then the pines hid her view.

Once in the trail, Stewart's horse broke into a gallop. Majesty changed his gait and kept at the black's heels. Stewart called back a warning. The low, wide-spreading branches of trees might brush Madeline out of the saddle. Fast riding through the forest along a crooked, obstructed trail called forth all her alertness. Likewise the stirring of her blood, always susceptible to the spirit and motion of a ride, let alone one of peril, now began to throb and burn away the worry, the dread, the coldness that had weighted her down.

Before long Stewart wheeled at right angles off the trail and entered a hollow between two low bluffs. Madeline saw tracks in the open patches of ground. Here Stewart's horse took to a brisk walk. The hollow deepened, narrowed, became rocky, full of logs and brush. Madeline exerted all her keenness, and needed it, to keep close to Stewart. She did not think of him, nor her own safety, but of keeping Majesty close in the tracks of the black, of eluding the sharp spikes in the dead brush, of avoiding the treacherous loose stones.

At last Madeline was brought to a dead halt by Stewart and his horse blocking the trail. Looking up, she saw they were at the head of a canyon that yawned beneath and widened its gray-walled, green-patched slopes down to a black forest of fir. The drab monotony of the foothills made contrast below the forest, and away in the distance, rosy and smoky, lay the desert. Retracting her gaze, Madeline saw pack-horses cross an open space a mile below, and she thought she saw the stag-hounds. Stewart's dark eyes searched the slopes high up along the craggy escarpments. Then he put the black to the descent.

If there had been a trail left by the leading cowboys, Stewart did not follow it. He led off to the right, zigzagging an intricate course through the roughest ground Madeline had ever ridden over. He crashed through cedars, threaded a tortuous way among boulders, made his horse slide down slanting banks of soft earth, picked a slow and cautious progress across weathered slopes of loose rock. Madeline followed, finding in this ride a tax on strength and judgment. On an ordinary horse she never could have kept in Stewart's trail. It was dust and heat, a parching throat, that caused Madeline to think of time; and she was amazed to see the sun sloping to the west. Stewart never stopped; he never looked back; he never spoke. He must have heard the horse close behind him. Madeline remembered Monty's advice about drinking and eating as she rode along. The worst of that rough travel came at the bottom of the canyon. Dead cedars and brush and logs were easy to pass compared with the miles, it seemed, of loose boulders. The horses slipped and stumbled. Stewart proceeded here with exceeding care. At last, when the canyon opened into a level forest of firs, the sun was setting red in the west.

Stewart quickened the gait of his horse. After a mile or so of easy travel the ground again began to fall decidedly, sloping in numerous ridges, with draws between. Soon night shadowed the deeper gullies. Madeline was refreshed by the cooling of the air.

Stewart traveled slowly now. The barks of coyotes seemed to startle him. Often he stopped to listen. And during one of those intervals the silence was broken by sharp rifle-shots. Madeline could not tell whether they were near or far, to right or left, behind or before. Evidently Stewart was both alarmed and baffled. He dismounted. He went cautiously forward to listen. Madeline fancied she heard a cry, low and far away. It was only that of a coyote, she convinced herself, yet it was so wailing, so human, that she shuddered. Stewart came back. He slipped the bridles of both horses, and he led them. Every few paces he stopped to listen. He changed his direction several times, and the last time he got among rough, rocky ridges. The iron shoes of the horses cracked on the rocks. That sound must have penetrated far into the forest. It perturbed Stewart, for he searched for softer ground. Meanwhile the shadows merged into darkness. The stars shone. The wind rose. Madeline believed hours passed.

Stewart halted again. In the gloom Madeline discerned a log cabin, and beyond it pear-pointed dark trees piercing the sky-line. She could just make out Stewart's tall form as he leaned against his horse. Either he was listening or debating what to do—perhaps both. Presently he went inside the cabin. Madeline heard the scratching of a match; then she saw a faint light. The cabin appeared to be deserted. Probably it was one of the many habitations belonging to prospectors and foresters who lived in the mountains. Stewart came out again. He walked around the horses, out into the gloom, then back to Madeline. For a long moment he stood as still as a statue and listened. Then she heard him mutter, “If we have to start quick I can ride bareback.” With that he took the saddle and blanket off his horse and carried them into the cabin.

“Get off,” he said, in a low voice, as he stepped out of the door.

He helped her down and led her inside, where again he struck a match. Madeline caught a glimpse of a rude fireplace and rough-hewn logs. Stewart's blanket and saddle lay on the hard-packed earthen floor.

“Rest a little,” he said. “I'm going into the woods a piece to listen. Gone only a minute or so.”

Madeline had to feel round in the dark to locate the saddle and blanket. When she lay down it was with a grateful sense of ease and relief. As her body rested, however, her mind became the old thronging maze for sensation and thought. All day she had attended to the alert business of helping her horse. Now, what had already happened, the night, the silence, the proximity of Stewart and his strange, stern caution, the possible happenings to her friends—all claimed their due share of her feeling. She went over them all with lightning swiftness of thought. She believed, and she was sure Stewart believed, that her friends, owing to their quicker start down the mountain, had not been headed off in their travel by any of the things which had delayed Stewart. This conviction lifted the suddenly returning dread from her breast; and as for herself, somehow she had no fear. But she could not sleep; she did not try to.

Stewart's soft steps sounded outside. His dark form loomed in the door. As he sat down Madeline heard the thump of a gun that he laid beside him on the sill; then the thump of another as he put that down, too. The sounds thrilled her. Stewart's wide shoulders filled the door; his finely shaped head and strong, stern profile showed clearly in outline against the sky; the wind waved his hair. He turned his ear to that wind and listened. Motionless he sat for what to her seemed hours.

Then the stirring memory of the day's adventure, the feeling of the beauty of the night, and a strange, deep-seated, sweetly vague consciousness of happiness portending, were all burned out in hot, pressing pain at the remembrance of Stewart's disgrace in her eyes. Something had changed within her so that what had been anger at herself was sorrow for him. He was such a splendid man. She could not feel the same; she knew her debt to him, yet she could not thank him, could not speak to him. She fought an unintelligible bitterness.

Then she rested with closed eyes, and time seemed neither short nor long. When Stewart called her she opened her eyes to see the gray of dawn. She rose and stepped outside. The horses whinnied. In a moment she was in the saddle, aware of cramped muscles and a weariness of limbs. Stewart led off at a sharp trot into the fir forest. They came to a trail into which he turned. The horses traveled steadily; the descent grew less steep; the firs thinned out; the gray gloom brightened.

When Madeline rode out of the firs the sun had arisen and the foothills rolled beneath her; and at their edge, where the gray of valley began, she saw a dark patch that she knew was the ranch-house.

Sermon on the Feast of St. Dominic by St. Vincent Ferrer (translated into English)

 

 “You are the salt of the earth, ” (Mt 5:13 ) This is the text to be read as today’s gospel. Just as the whole office and the solemnity of the present day is about the most glorious father and confessor of our Lord, St. Dominic, so also is our sermon. God willing, we shall have many good teachings etc. But first let the Virgin Mary be hailed etc.

 

THE THEME

For some explanation of this text and the introduction to the aforesaid material, it must be known that all corporeal visible creatures which are in this world, have one task in general, namely to represent and signify spiritual and invisible things. And this is one of the more principal reasons. Why did God create the world? To represent invisible and spiritual things. The reason is, because as long as we live in this life and are mortal, we cannot see spiritual things but through figures and like representations. This defect is on the part of flesh which impedes, because it can see only corporal things. It is like someone who would hold green sapphires or rubies in front of his eyes, and whatever he sees would be green or red. It is not a defect on the part of the eyes, but from the unknowing glass or gems which view reality only through its own color. So it is with us. The eyes of the soul have a body like a sapphire, and so they can see only corporeal things, but putting down the sapphires, namely the flesh, immediately they see spiritual things, angels and souls. See the defect, and so it is that in this life we do not see spiritual things. And this is the common teaching in philosophy in III De anima, and in theology. The Philosopher (Aristotle) says, “It is impossible for us to understand except through phantasms,” i.e. likenesses. In theology also Dionysius (the Areopagite) says, “It is impossible for us otherwise to see divine light unless it was covered over by a veil of images (velamine figuratum).

Because of this God. knowing that spiritual things cannot be seen by us in this world, created the world in which each creature, howsoever tiny, represents and figures spiritual things. For example, none of you ever sees Christ, nor the Virgin Mary, nor one of the apostles in this world. So a skilled painter paints images not to be adored, but to represent Christ, the Virgin Mary and the other saints. And so God, the most clever artist of all, paints this world like an easel filled with representational images. And so the Apostle says, “For the invisible things of him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made; his eternal power also, and divinity: so that they are inexcusable,” (Rom 1:20). This teaching therefore is clear through reason and authority, that all corporeal creatures have the same general task.

So Christ wished that the invisible and spiritual perfection of the apostles and of those following the apostolic life, be prefigured through one corporeal creature, namely, by salt. And so Christ says to the apostles and those following the apostolic life, and especially to St. Dominic our father, “You are the salt of the earth, ” (Mt 5:13 ). The theme is clear now. Next, the material which I want to preach to you.

 

SALT

I have noticed therefore three properties in salt through which it signifies to me the apostles and especially St. Dominic our father:

First, salt heals infections.

Second, salt preserves from corruption.

Third, it delights us when we eat.

From these three conditions salt represents St. Dominic, and so it is said to him especially, “You are the salt of the earth, ” (Mt 5:13 ).

 

HEALS INFECTIONS

First, I say, that salt heals infections. About this in 4 Kgs, ch. 2 the text says, that that holy prophet and friend of God, Elisha, came to the city of Jericho and the officials and rulers of the city came to him, saying to him that that city was noble and beautiful, having good lands, but it had a defect, because the waters, he said, are polluted and make the land sterile, and bloat the people who drink of that water.   “And so, Father, you who are so holy and a friend of God, are you able to take care of this and provide a remedy?” The prophet responded: “It pleases me. Give me a new pitcher.” And when they brought the pitcher, he said, “Now I need salt.” When they brought it he sprinkled it on the waters. When he did this he said, “Thus says the Lord: I have healed these waters,” (4 Kgs 2:21). The waters were healed on that day according to the words of Elisha, which is found in 4 Kgs 2.

Here are four secrets to be revealed.

 

First that it is the city of Jericho.

Second what are these infected waters.

Third, what is the new pitcher.

Fourth what is the salt healing and purifying the waters.

 

Jericho  The city of Jericho signifies the church. Jericho according to the Hebrew meaning stands for “moon.” Behold universal Christianity, namely, the church, rightly passes through the phases of the moon. For in the moon we find seven phases or states. The first is the new moon. Second is waxing. Third, full. Fourth, waning. The fifth is the moon turning around (gyrans). The sixth is eclipsing. The seventh will be the perfect moon.

The same for the church. First it was like the new moon in the time of the apostles, because then Christianity first appeared, and strict, and then the Christians went about simply, there was little of the great pridefulness or vanities in the prelates like now. Second, next it was waxing, in the time of the martyrs, because many were converted because of the miracles which they were performing, and so the church increased. Third, in the time of the holy doctors it was full, for from their preachings and teachings, and examples of holiness they illuminated the whole world. In the time of Augustine all of Africa was Christian. Fourth, it was waning, at the time when the religious orders of Preachers and Minors began, because then because of sin they would have perished, suddenly and quickly; and so these religious orders came to correct those sins. The fifth phase is rotating, when the moon rotates it is not seen for two or three days. So it is now, almost no obedience is shown to the pope. Some are saying that the pope is above the council, others the opposite. Sixth it shall be eclipsed, and this in the time of the antichrist, because then it shall appear to be dead. Just as some simple folk say when the moon is eclipsed, that it died, and would appear bloody all over. Such shall be the time of the antichrist because of the outpouring of Christian blood. Seventh, after the death of antichrist it shall be perfect, because then all shall return to the faith of Christ. Behold the phases of the church. And so the church is signified by Jericho, i.e., the moon. About this last phase David says, “…as the moon perfect for ever, and a faithful witness in heaven,” (Ps 88:38).

Infected Waters   Second we must see what these infected waters of this city are. These waters are the vices, sins and wicked manner of living of Christians, because before the coming of St. Dominic all peoples were infected. The faithful were given to forgetfulness, virtues were held in contempt. About this the Apocalypse, “…and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter,” (Rev 8:11).

New Pitcher But Elisha said, “Let’s have a new pitcher.” Behold, the Order of Preachers is called a pitcher (vas). Because it is made up of many brothers, it is called new and old, more so than all [other orders]. If we wish to speak with respect to the essential vows which are angelic chastity, apostolic or evangelical poverty, and general obedience. And as for the office of preaching, which is to travel about through the world, not to construct buildings, this is the religious order (religio) of St. Dominic as to its essentials. Christ already ordained all this.

Christ was the first, because St. Thomas says in II-II, q. 88, a. 4, ad 3m, that the apostles leaving everything to follow Christ, vowed pertaining to the state of perfection, from which is implied that they vowed these, namely chastity, poverty and obedience to Christ. The same regarding the office of preaching, he commanded them saying, “Go into the whole world, and preach the gospel to every creature,” (Mk 16:15). Behold the religious order (religio) of Christ. It is the very same as that of St. Dominic. Therefore we have and we embrace three vows, namely, angelic chastity, evangelical poverty, complete (generalem) obedience, so let anyone of this order watch out for himself. So go preaching; don’t settle down in one place. And so the story of St. Dominic says, “He thought to institute an order which would be called the Order of Preaching Brothers. And would so be.” (Jordan, Libellus, #40). Behold, therefore how it is a very old religious order (religio). And a good religious observing these on the day of judgment, when kings and great prelates shall stand on the earth with others, he himself shall stand with the apostles elevated with the Judge, with Christ. Oh what an honor this shall be!

Here is the answer to a litigious question, between clergy and religious. The clergy say that they were the original religious order, which is not so. For there were no clergy until Holy Thursday, yet there were religious before, namely the apostles who had taken the aforesaid vows.

But the religious order of St. Dominic is called a new pitcher or vessel with respect to ceremonies. We wear black cappas (exterior capes), and white scapulars. Also that we eat in our refectory, and similar things. With respect to these ceremonies, it is a new vessel. About this vessel we can say what Christ said of Paul, who was the first in the office of preaching, first, that is, principal, and ultimate with respect to the vocation to the apostolate, “this man is to me a vessel of election, to carry my name before the Gentiles, and kings,” (Acts 9:15).

Salt   Fourth we must find the meaning of salt in the vessel. It is this, Dominic, in the vessel of the order, from its first property, because salt heals from infection. So St. Dominic placed in a new vessel heals the infections of the sins of this world.

For the whole world was infected with great envy of one other, but St. Dominic comes preaching the love of God and neighbor. And God prefigured this. For his mother saw in dreams that she would bear a dog with a blazing torch in his mouth, who emerging from her womb seemed to set fire to the whole world. She was amazed at this, and enlightened by God, said that her son would be a great watchdog for the flock of Christ, who would bark at the wolves of hell. With fire in his mouth, he was to inflame the world to the love of God and neighbor.

He also heals from the infection of lust, because the infection of this sin before the coming of St. Dominic was so great, that almost no one was clean. But St. Dominic came preaching chastity and poverty, and peoples responded with devotion. This too God had already prefigured, because his godmother had a vision of St. Dominic having a star on his forehead, which lit up the whole earth with its light. Stunned, the godmother joyfully told of her vision. In this is implied that just as the star is pure and bright, so he should lead peoples to the brightness and purity of chastity.

Also, the whole world was infected with pride, pomp and vanity, but at the preaching and teaching and example of St. Dominic many people were humbled, setting aside the vanities of jewelry, armor, horses, gold and silver cups and similar things. This God showed, because when he was yet a nursing child, maybe one year old, he was seen frequently having left his bed, to lie down on the ground, showing humility.

Also the world was infected with gluttony. For few observed Lent, or the fasts in the four seasons (Rogation Days), or the vigils of saints. St. Dominic gave evidence that he was purified from this infection, for scarcely ten years old, he already abstained from wine and fasted often on bread and water.

Also the world was infected with avarice, usury, theft, robbery, and deceits, but St. Dominic by his preaching and through his example purified it. This is signified by a deed, when he was in Palencia where there was a great famine, and the poor were dying of starvation, the rich were saying, “Let us keep our goods for ourselves, and our children, because we don’t know how long this shall last.” But St. Dominic, sold his books and furniture and gave it all to the poor. His example provoked the rich to give alms.

Also about the sin of anger, because the people preferred not to let go of or forgive injuries; they wanted vengeance. St. Dominic came preaching patience and he made peace. He demonstrated this by his actions. When he was preaching in Carcassonne, where there were many heretics, and they were throwing filth and garbage and other things at him, he bore up under it all patiently.

And so the world was lazy for spiritual goods. No one cared to do penance. But St. Dominic showed them by word and example. Three times a day he disciplined himself with an iron chain.

It is clear then, that St. Dominic, like salt placed in a new vessel, healed and purified the waters of sin. And so about St. Dominic it can be understood the word of Augustine in the Homily, “The Lord sent the apostolic salt for the preserving and extinguishing the corruptions of the waters of sinners,” (See Augustine, On the Sermon on the Mount, Book I, Matthew 5, ch. 6, # 17).

 

PRESERVES FROM CORRUPTION

I say that the second condition of salt is that it preserves from corruption. It doesn’t just cure and clean what is already corrupt, but it also preserves. This is clear because when a man wishes to preserve meat or fish, he puts salt on them, which absorbs moisture. Although this is clear, nevertheless there is a scriptural authority, of Tobias, who caught a fish, of which he ate a part, “…and they took it with them in the way: the rest they salted as much as might serve them, till they came to Rages the city of the Medes,” (Tob 6:6).

So too of St. Dominic. For I find that this world should have been corrupted and destroyed for well over two hundred years and more. But the Virgin Mary, wishing still to preserve the world, put salt on it, namely St. Dominic, and saved the world. For in the stories of the saints and in the life of St. Dominic — in two places — we read of a vision which St. Dominic and St. Francis both experienced. When they were in Rome working for the confirmation of their orders, the pope and cardinals were raising difficulties over such new things, because they were seeking confirmation of a status which was both higher and lower.

A higher status, because it was both a contemplative life of study, and active. By performing spiritual works, by celebrating, and preaching, the starving are satisfied with the word of God, and those ignorant in the faith are instructed, etc. And the dead, that is sinners, are buried in the wounds of Christ. The captives of the devil, too, are redeemed. The campaign is engaged; the demons are conquered. O how many castles, i.e. sinners, are made subject to Christ by preaching.

Secondly a lower status, because greatly despised, because they were beggars, and so the pope was not inclined to confirm them, because they could repay nothing.

One night, when St. Dominic was praying in a certain church, and St. Francis in another, Christ was seen by them with three lances, wishing to destroy the world. These saints were saying to themselves, “O shall there be there no holy one in heaven who can call back this wrath?” And suddenly the Virgin Mary came, like a mother coming quickly to snatch her child from devouring wolves, saying, “O son, you are now bearing lances, you who are accustomed to bearing nails in your hands for the world.” Christ replied — Saints Dominic and Francis were listening — “My mother, how much more should I do, since I have showered the world with so many graces? I sent the patriarchs, and prophets, and they killed them; and finally I myself came, etc. History tells, how up until now, I have not spared [graces]. ”

These three lances, destructive of the world, are the three great tribulations about to come shortly over the world. First is the tribulation and persecution of the antichrist, which lance can be said that it pierces the whole world. Second shall be the conflagration of the world through fire; the whole world is burned, etc. Third is the judicial sentencing by Christ. Of these three lances, scripture testifies, allegorically in 2 Kgs 18 About Absalom, the traitor and rebel son of David.   He was killed by three lances from Joab, the captain of the army. The story says, “So he [Joab] took three lances in his hand, and thrust them into the heart of Absalom,” (2 Kgs 18:14).

Why did God wish that Absalom be killed by three lances, since one would have been sufficient, especially for a man suspended etc. It was a figure. For the son betraying God the Father is this whole world acting against the commandments of God, expelling their father, namely God from the world as much as possible. But the prince of the army, namely Christ, kills them with three aforesaid lances.

Even in the time of St. Dominic the world ought to have been destroyed by Christ and corrupted, but the Virgin Mary added the salt, namely Dominic, gaining an extension.   Think here how the whole world is now in this extension, and we do not have a fixed time, but he said conditionally: “If converted, OK (bene), otherwise I shall no longer spare them.”

Now let us see if the world in these [our] lands, is corrected. I believe that never were there so much pomp and vanities, etc. as there are now, nor such lust, unless in the time of Noah. For the hotels [hospitia], and even the villas are filled with prostitutes. Mix bad apples with the good, and shortly all are rotten. Same for avarice and usury, because they change its name. Usury they falsely call “assessments” (censualia), but when the intention is not buying or selling, but of lending, it is usury. Also not for a just price. Whatever you receive beyond the allotted price is usury and damnation. Same too with simony in the clergy; they ultimately have all the sacraments for sale in some way or other. Same for envy. If someone among religious has some excellence in disputation, or the science of preaching, others are envious. It is the same with clergy and laity about gluttony. Already you see that [the fasts of] Lent are not observed, nor vigils of the apostles, nor the rogation days observed etc. You know about anger, it is already worse against both God and reason. If someone does another injury, and they cannot get to him, contrary to divine law, they kill his innocent friend, for it is against divine and human judgment to kill an innocent person. About sloth, the world comes to this, that all are judged to be lazy, unless they are doing business, but if someone takes some time off for a work of God and of prayer they are called lazy. In the evening [of time] it will be apparent who was lazy, and because the world is not corrected, — it is even worse — these religious orders, who were founded to correct the world are already destroyed. So if St. Dominic or Francis should come now, they would not recognize their religious orders.

Since the world has not been corrected, does it not follow, then, that in a short time it will be destroyed before the coming of the day of judgment? So for the other objections respond, “Behold the salt, St. Dominic.” On his account we praise God saying: “Blessed be the redeemer of all, who providing for the salvation of mankind gave St. Dominic to the world.”

 

DELIGHTS IN DINING

Third, I say that the other condition of salt is that it gives delight in dining, conferring flavor on food. To make this clear, a quotation: “But if the salt lose its savor,” i.e. it fails in how it salts food, “wherewith shall it be salted? It,” the food, “is good for nothing any more but to be cast out, and to be trodden on by men,” (Mt 5:13). The food of the souls are good works and spiritual things. Citation: “Labor not for the meat which perishes, but for that which endures unto life everlasting,” (Jn 6:27). And so Christ says, “I have meat to eat, which you know not,” (Jn 4:32). The “meat” of Christ which satisfies him, are the works of virtue.

But this food was insipid before the coming of St. Dominic. The temporal lords, having abandoned the virtue of justice gave themselves over to tyranny. St. Dominic came, salting, recalling them to the virtue of justice, to being content with their returns, etc. The same for the insipid meat of prelates, because they cared more about their incomes that about souls. St. Dominic added the salt of his teaching by which they ought to care more for souls than their incomes. How many religious were living dissolute lives, caring nothing of their religious practices, but St. Dominic called them back to religious observance. How many irreligious clergy, praying their divine office only superficially (nisi a.e.i.o.u) and almost all were cohabiting, prowling the taverns, were led back? How many moneylenders, were buying for less than the fixed price, or selling expecting more [were converted]? How many cruel civil servants, permitting the poor to die of starvation, were returned to piety, mercy and liberality. How many self-indulgent women by his preaching did he return to chastity etc. Finally God said, “O this salt, I wish that it be set on my table.”

And see how. The story is told how Christ appeared to him, inviting him to his glory. Then St. Dominic called twelve brothers in the Bologna convent, and before them composed his will such that it was fitting that he leave to his brothers a firm humility, namely that they take pride not because of sanctity or knowledge. Second he left to his brothers a treasure of poverty, by which the kingdom of heaven is purchased, “Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” (Mt 5:3). Third he bequeaths fraternal charity, and having kissed the brethren, and having received the sacraments, he died.

They tell of the glorious vision which God showed to him, of two ladders of which Christ was holding the top of the first, and the Virgin Mary the other. And crowned with a golden crown he entered glory. If one asks “Why two ladders? Is not one sufficient?”   The answer is, to indicate that the order of Preachers sends brothers not only by one ladder, namely of the contemplative life, but also by the other, namely the way of the active life. The Celestines and those like them ascend by the latter of contemplation. The Knights of St. John, of St. James, of St. George, and the Brothers of Mercy, ascend by the other scale, namely, of the active life. But the Brothers of St. Dominic by two, namely the contemplative by study, and the active, by preaching. “Have salt in you, and have peace among you,” (Mk 9:49).