Beyond the Slough of Despond lay a field. Hungry and thirsty, Chris sat down beside a low wall. A fruit tree grew on the other side, with several ripe pears hanging low. He looked at them again and again. At last, he reached out and picked one.
The pear had barely reached his mouth when someone called, “Is that your tree?” A neatly dressed man came toward him. Chris hid the pear behind his back, then slowly brought it out again. He wanted to say he had found it on the ground. But before the lie left his mouth, he lowered his head. “I picked it. I’m sorry.”
The man’s name was Mr. Worldly Wiseman. Instead of taking the pear, he first looked at the bundle on Chris’s back. “Are you from the city? Most young travelers like you have been talked into setting out by Evangelist.”
Chris nodded and asked whether he knew a way to rescue his family. “Of course I do,” Mr. Worldly Wiseman said. “But put yourself right first. You’ve only just left the city, and already you’re stealing someone else’s fruit. Who will help you with a reputation like that?” Chris’s heart sank.
Mr. Worldly Wiseman pointed to a village beside the mountain. “Go and see Mr. Legality. He will give you a list. Follow it every day: no stealing, no lying, no losing your temper. Do everything right, and the bundle will grow lighter on its own. You can stay there and work, too. Earn enough money, and then bring your family.”
“So I really don’t have to go so far?”
“Why should you? Food, a roof over your head, and money to earn. Isn’t that more reliable than a roll of old paper?”
Chris thought of his father’s hands counting money, then of the pear he had just picked. He set the pear down beside the wall and started toward the village. From a distance, the mountain did not look very high. Up close, however, a huge rock hung over the road. Thunder sounded inside the mountain, as though someone there were reading aloud every wrong thing he had ever done.
Chris could not take another step. The day was not even over, and already he had picked fruit that was not his. Even if he never made another mistake from now on, what about the things he had done before? He pulled at the rope across his shoulder. The harder he pulled, the tighter the knot became.
“Chris.” Evangelist came across the field. Seeing the boy standing in the mountain’s shadow, he went over and waited while Chris told him what had happened.
“I thought if I was good enough, I could take it off,” Chris said. “But I can’t even get through one day.”
“You should return the pear to its owner, and admit what you did wrong,” Evangelist said. “But a list cannot erase the past from other people’s hearts. Rules can show you what is wrong. They cannot undo this bundle for you.”
“Can I still go back to the first road?”
Evangelist asked him to unroll the parchment. Its words had not changed. “The narrow gate is still there,” he said. “If you want to go back, come with me.”
Chris returned to the fruit tree and found the person who looked after the field. He told the whole story of picking the pear. Then he helped put fallen fruit into baskets until his fingers were covered in mud. The person did not tell him he was a good boy now, or keep scolding him for what he had done. Instead, he gave Chris a cup of water and walked him to the turning.
Evangelist was waiting there. Chris finished the water and returned the cup. Thunder still rumbled far away in the mountain, but his feet were already pointing in another direction.