0 mS&a at the altar and cried like a baby. “ I’m no good, no good, I tell you, I’m no good,” he kept saying. The young man told him that God loved him, and that he was willing to forgive him if he would confess his sins and accept Jesus as his Saviour. Well, that’s exactly what he did! I asked Captain Miller about what time it was when all this happened. He thought for a moment and said, “ It must have been nearly midnight.” Tears filled my eyes when he said that because that was just the time that I was on my knees praying for Bob. While Captain Miller and I were talking, Bob showed up. He looked better than I had ever seen him. He had a bright gleam in his eyes. He looked freshly bathed and shaved, his hair was combed, and he had on a clean shirt. I grabbed his hand and told him how happy I was that he had accepted Christ as his Saviour. He smiled joyfully and then he became suddenly very thoughtful as he said, “You know what? I’ve been thinking — I’d “Well, as I’ve told you, I was paid off my share of the ranch because I demanded it. Now it’s gone. Spending it foolishly, — I squandered a small fortune, gambling, drinking and doing things of which I’m now ashamed. And although I’m the son of a well-to-do rancher, I’m penniless. Most of the men working for my father are much better off. I’d be glad to be one of them if only my father would take me back. But I’m afraid he wouldn’t take me back. And who could blame him?” “ No, Bob. I think you are mistaken. I bet you’d be welcome. Tell you what, I’ll go with you.” “ But what about your horse and stuff — and your job?” “ Aw, I’m sure I can fix it up with Mr. Williams. When he hears what it’s all about, he’ll give me a few days off.” And that is just what happened. A couple of days later we'were on our way to the Bow and Arrow Ranch, Bob’s home. We rode the train to a little town called Powder River. The ranch was still about 25 miles away. We hadn’t notified his parents that we were coming. It was to be a surprise. So after we got off the train, we made our way over to the livery stable. There we made a deal with a man to take us to the ranch. He hitched a nice looking team of black horses to a light spring-wagon and soon we were leaving a cloud of dust behind us. It was getting along towards evening when we pulled into the Bow and Arrow Ranch yard. The sun was just beginning to sink behind the distant Medicine Range. Clouds of spectacular color were spread along the western horizon. Sure was beautiful. The soft gentle breeze car ried with it sagebrush perfume. It smelled so good. We were met by a couple of friendly, barking dogs. That brought Bob’s father out of the house. He came out onto the long porch as we stopped by the hitching rack. He stood there, trying to figure out who the “ strangers” were. Bob was the first to get out of the wagon. However, he did so rather slowly. He was fearful as to what would happen now that he was back home. Well, there they like to go home — but I’m afraid.” “Afraid >^>afraid of what?” I asked.
In his ranch corral, Leonard Eilers tries some fancy tricks. stood, looking at each other for what seemed a long time, but it really was only a few seconds. Then suddenly the father recognized his son and rushed forward, running as he came, his arms outstretched, ready to hug his boy. “ Bob,” he cried, “ Bob, oh Bob, — you’ve, you’ve come back home — I knew you would I knew you would.” They held onto each other for quite a spell, as if afraid to let go. Tears were streaming down their faces and as I watched them, tears were wetting my face too. Then out came the mother and the rest of the family. Well, you never saw such goings on in all your life. It was wonderful. They insisted that I stay with them at least until after the party that was going to be put on honoring the return of Bob. Such an occasion as a son’s return called for a real celebration. And believe me, it was some celebration. From miles around the country-side neighbors came, bringing with them pies, cakes, and goodies of all kinds. The Bow and Arrow then furnished barbecued beef and coffee and music. For three days it went on, and on the last day, which was Sunday, the celebration came to a grand climax by having a preaching service. Rev. John Hopkins whs brought in all the way from Laramie. It was a sort of thanksgiving service and really put a fine close to the affair. When the time came for me to leave, believe me, I didn’t like the idea of going, but life is like that. We can’t always do what we want to. Sometimes we have to do what we have to do, and I had to go back to Cheyenne. Oh me, and here we are again at the windup of an other story time. So now we have to do what we have to do again, and that is to say goodbye until next time. But I hope that won’t be very long and then we’ll all meet around our campfire again. And until then, well, all of you be good, just real good.
JULY, 1959
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