--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Peterson, William Henry collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 23 number: 8 published: 1920-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Peterson, William Henry, "The Test," *Improvement Era* 23, no. 8 (June 1920): 715–719.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera238unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera238unse start_page: 715 end_page: 719 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1920-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera238unse publication_year: 1920 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1920, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Test The Test By William Henry Peterson "I know you will have a good time this summer, but I can't go," said Fred Wilson, placing some heavy iron bolts against the picket fence which surrounded George Crawford's home. Pretty Ruth Moffitt looked disappointed. "Can't go?" she echoed, "I thought we were all going." "So did I," answered Fred; "but I am working, and it will be impossible for me to get away." "I'm sorry, I wanted — — that is we wanted you to go." "Hello, there!" called a voice from the Crawford home. George Crawford, recently returned from an eight-months' visit in the city, was standing on the veranda of the magnificent Crawford residence. "You're a pretty pair," he continued, leav- ing the veranda. "How are you, anyway?" "Just fine," said Ruth, looking admiringly at the newcom- er's "up-to-the-minute togs," as he called them. "Still kicking," responded Fred. George looked significantly at Fred's heavy, hightop, can- yon shoes. "Looks like you could do some real kicking, all right," he said. Fred wiped the sweat from his face with a large, red hand- kerchief, saying, as he did so: "It's either kick or sink with me." Miss Moffitt glanced from the large, red handkerchief to the corner of the silk one protruding from George's pocket. "Some sweat absorber you're sporting, eh, old chap?" laughed George. "Just right for this kind of work and weather," replied Fred, picking up his bolts. "July's a hot month, and iron's heavy." "Then you won't go with us?" asked Ruth. "Can't do it," was the reply. "Surely, you are going with us on our outing in the moun- tains," exclaimed George, rubbing the dust from his English- cut shoes. "Mother is going along as chaperon. We'll have the time of our lives." "Sorry I can't, George, but I shall need every cent I can — earn, to take me through school next but there is Mr. McDon- ald waving for me. I must be going." 716 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Yes," pouted Ruth, "you think more of those rough, un- educated men at the sawmill, than you do of us." There was no time for Fred to reply. Re hurried off. There was much to be done before he and Mr. McDonald could leave for the mill. Supplies must be bought, clothes and tools must be made ready, the wagon must be loaded, and the horses shod. Fred took the horses to the blacksmith. While there, George sauntered by. "If you have time, Fred," he said, "you might come over and see us. Our camp will be near the mill. Besides, you might be interested in knowing how well Ruth is being cared for." Fred had food for reflection during the long ride up the lonely canyon road. "Why wasn't I born rich?" he mused. "Professor Benson says it's a blessing to earn one's way, and I suppose it is, but it does seem it would be pleasant to wear fine clothes and have money given to me. So, Ruth Is going with George. Well, I don't care," and to prove to himself that he didn't, he entered into conversation with the driver. "How do you account for these small trees on this flat? They are so scrubby and unattractive." "These trees," answered McDonald, "lack two of the essen- tials of healthy growth — deep soil and water; otherwise they would be the same as the trees elsewhere in the mountains." "Just so," thought Fred, "and if I. had fine clothes and money, Ruth would not be going with George." During the re- mainder of the ride and the next few days his mind constantly reverted to Ruth and George. He did not consider that he was in love with Ruth, and yet he was hurt. Deep down in his soul, he felt a sadness like that which comes to a child when its beau- tiful toy is broken. When one of the workmen spoke of the jolly camping party over the ridge, he turned away his head and gazed into the distance where two ridges of the Black Moun- tains united under a covering of eternal snow. The boss at the Lake Fork Lumbering mill had taken a liking to Fred and had shown him several considerations, and yet Fred hesitated about asking for a day off. However, the boss consented willingly, and Fred left the mill in high spirits. It was a pleasant walk over the grassy flat; around the lake which timidly reflected the pine trees that grew at its edge; up the dugWay to Castle Rock, where he stopped to drink from a gurgling spring; and then on over Pine Ridge to Pinehurst. Pinehurst, an ideal mountain retreat, is situated on the up- per terrace at the head of Lake Fork. Its crystal-clear lake, fringed with an abundance of flowers and trees, is charming. Indeed, the place is so picturesque that campers always select it as their favorite resort, not only because of its scenic beauty, but also because of its location. Northward opens the great THE TEST 717 ccve, to the west rises the snow-capped divide, the Blue Meadow and Black Mountain lie to the south, and vast untouched coal fields stretch toward the rising sun. After his exhilarating walk in the cool mountain air, Fred found himself among jolly friends. The day was spent in fish- ing and merry making. How quickly the time passed! He could scarcely believe his eyes when looking westward, he saw the sun nestling close to the snow-capped divide. He stopped fishing, to admire the scene, and in its fascinating beauty for- got the fishing pole he had been holding so eagerly. It in- clined listless in his hand until a sudden jerk! jerk! jerk! awoke him from his reverie. He turned and pulled, but too late. The silvery gleam of an escaping fish shot through the clear blue water. "I'm afraid that you are a failure at fishing," said a voice close behind him. He turned to see Ruth seated upon a red rock which overhung the lake. **I was admiring the beautiful sunset," he began to ex- plain. "You mean that you were becoming indifferent to the 6port," laughed Ruth. "I suppose it looked that way, but really I enjoy fishing, and just because I forgot myself for a few moments, you should not criticize me so severely. Besides, you are somewhat forget- ful yourself. When are you coming to visit the mill?" "I don't think I shall come at all." "Not come at all! But you told me last winter at school that you were coming to see the mill." "Yes, Fred, I know. Now, don't be offended, but the men are so rough, so unpolished, I just know that I shouldn't enjoy my visit." "You say that the men are rough. Well, if coarse clothes and hard work make rough men, you have told the truth, and therefore you consider us unfit to associate with." "Why, Fred, you take me too seriously. I did not exactly mean you. If you would only do as George says, wear fine clothes and doll up a bit." "If I did wear fine clothes," interrupted Fred, "would that make me any better? I have often heard people say that fine feathers make fine birds, and I have as often wondered what fine birds really mean—but there is Clarence calling us to supper." Supper was soon over and a great camp fire lighted. The crowd sat around on boxes and logs, telling stories and singing songs. The flickering light of the fire as it rose and fell cast a weirdness over the night scene. The girls crowded together, as the fantastic forms of the forest showed themselves, now here, now there. 718 IMPROVEMENT ERA At ten o'clock everybody retired for the night. The girl's tent soon became quiet, but in the boys' a conversation was car- ried on for some time. As the low, lazy voices ceased, there arose from the forest the desolate "Yap! Yap!" of a lone coyote. A few moments later someone crawled from one of the tents and crept stealthily into the forest. Then the stillness of the night was again broken, not by the lone coyote, but by a hideous cry, half tiger, half human. It awoke the sleepers. The boys in their shirt sleeves and bare-footed stumbled excitedly about in the darkness for their guns. One, probably more thoughtful than the others, set busily to work rebuilding the camp-fire. The girls huddled together in the darkness of their tent, afraid to speak or move lest they attract the attention of this demon of the forest. "Mrs. Crawford," whispered someone at the tent door. The girls, unable to control themselves, screamed in terror. It was a few moments before Mrs. C. could gain control of her voice to answer. "What is the matter?" she asked in agitated tones. "It is I, Fred, speaking. Don't be frightened. There is noth- ing to fear now that the fire is burning brightly." As he fin- ished, his hand tightened on his rifle and he walked silently out into the darkness. As Fred disappeared, the boys crowded up, whispering excitedly about something, but none of them seemed to have the courage to speak. "Has anything dreadful happened?" asked Mrs. Crawford from the tent. "Mrs. Crawford," answered one of the boys resolutely, "we dread to tell you, but the truth is that we can't find George." As he finished speaking another growl arose, echoed through the forest, and died away. Mrs. Crawford did not answer. She sank back upon her bed unconscious. The awful thought that some fierce beast had carried away her son was too terrible to realize. There she lay helpless. What should be done? The girls tried the simple remedies they could remember, but in vain. Their beloved chaperon did not regain consciousness. Fred held his rifle in his hand as he crawled through the bushes, but really he did not see of what use it would be in the present instance. While he was wondering how to proceed, he heard the snapping of dry twigs to the right. Turning, he said in a low voice. "Speak, or I fire!" "Don't shoot!" whined a voice in the dark. "No, George Crawford, I won't shoot, but when you get to camp, you may wish that I had." "Why, what do you mean?" questioned George, THE TEST 719 "Only that by your nonsense, you have frightened your mother and the girls dreadfully." "But I was only playing a joke, and surely, Fred, you ought to be able to take a joke." "Yes, I can take a joke, but you must remember that it is different with your mother and the girls, but come, we must re- turn to camp and explain this joke of yours." The story was soon told and the girls felt at ease. Mrs. Craw- ford, however, remained unconscious, and it soon became evident that she was in a serious condition and that a physician must be brought at once. The camp was eighteen miles from the near- est settlement. The night was dark. The untraveled mountain roads were hard to follow and of late had become dangerous be- cause of the recent floods. Who would go? No one volunteered. "Will no one go, to save the life of a dying woman?" sob- bed Ruth. "Someone shall go, if no one else, then I will make the at- tempt," said Fred, "but I thought someone else would like to go for a mother's sake." He stood a moment waiting. No one answered; then, picking up a strong maple stick, he strode away into the night. What happened during that night journey remains a secret between Fred and his God. It was ten o'clock the following morning when he returned with the doctor. He did not remain at Pinehurst but hurried on to the mill, where he was put to work. That evening after work, as he sat in the door of his tent thinking over his experience with the jolly crowd over the ridge, Ruth rode into camp. She rode straight up to his tent. "I've come," she said, as she jumped from her horse. Fred could do nothing but stare. "I've come to see the mill," she continued, "and to tell you that Mrs. Crawford is better." Tm glad," he stammered, "that you have come; that is that Mrs. Crawford has improved; but you cannot see the mill tonight. You must call again, if you can condescend to do so." His words had changed from the torrid to the frigid zone. "Condescend? Why, I consider it a pleasure." "But, what about the rough men?" "Fred, I want you to forgive me for what I said about the men. I was foolish, and last night I began to realize what a ter- rible mistake I have been making." "Why, Ruth, are you in earnest?" "A confessor was never more serious," she answered sweetly. "Then I'll walk back with you. You know," he added play- fully, "just to see how Mrs. Crawford is." Monti, Utah.