Search:
A \ B \ C \ D \ E \ F \ G \ H \ I \ J \ K \ L \ M \ N \ O \ P \ R \ S \ T \ U \ V \ W \Z

The Art of Soul Winning by J.W. Mahood

J >> J.W. Mahood >> The Art of Soul Winning

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3


THE

ART OF SOUL-WINNING.


(SPECIALLY ADAPTED FOR PERSONAL WORKERS.)


BY

J.W. MAHOOD, EVANGELIST,

Author of "The Missing Wheel Found," and joint-author of "The Young
People's History of Methodism."


"_And he brought him to Jesus._"



CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & PYE.

NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS.

1901




PREFACE.


Never was there such great need for a mighty, Pentecostal revival in all
our Churches; and the key to such a revival is earnest personal work.
But the membership of the Churches are not prepared to enter upon this
work. Multitudes know nothing of a personal Pentecost. Many are utterly
indifferent. They do not realize their opportunity and responsibility
before God. If they did, the revival would come at once.

With the hope that many professing Christians may be awakened to duty,
and hear God's call to personal work in soul-winning, this little volume
is written.

Let the pastor see that a copy is put into every home one month previous
to the time set for special revival-meetings. Let him secure a pledge
from the people to read the study for each day, commit the memory
verses, and meditate upon the Scripture suggested.

Once each week, either at a special meeting appointed for this purpose,
at the week-night prayer-meeting, or at the young people's devotional
meeting Sunday evening, let the studies for the week be reviewed and the
memory verses recited. Short talks may also be given on each topic by
persons previously selected.

When the entire Church membership shall begin to think and speak upon
these vital themes; when the spirit of grace and supplication shall take
the place of formality and worldly desire; when the Holy Ghost of
Pentecost shall come upon the waiting, praying Church, then the times of
refreshing will be sure to come from the presence of the Lord, and the
perishing multitudes will be saved.

Sioux City, Iowa.




CONTENTS.


FIRST WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S MOTIVE.

"THE LOVE OF CHRIST."

PAGE
STUDY I Foreword and Appeal 9
STUDY II The Lord's Command 12
STUDY III By Personal Effort 15
STUDY IV Trophies of Personal Effort 18
STUDY V The Worth of a Soul 21
STUDY VI The Death of a Soul 24
STUDY VII The Supreme Motive 27


SECOND WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S LIFE.

"YIELD YOURSELVES TO GOD."

STUDY VIII A Definite Experience 33
STUDY IX A Complete Surrender 36
STUDY X The Spirit's Witness 39
STUDY XI Every Weight 42
STUDY XII Prayer 45
STUDY XIII Faith 48
STUDY XIV Self-Sacrifice 51


THIRD WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S EQUIPMENT.

"COMPLETELY FURNISHED."

PAGE
STUDY XV Knowledge of the Scripture 57
STUDY XVI Tact 60
STUDY XVII Earnestness 63
STUDY XVIII Perseverance 66
STUDY XIX Tenderness 69
STUDY XX Burden for Souls 72
STUDY XXI A Personal Pentecost 75


FOURTH WEEK--THE SOUL-WINNER'S METHODS.

"BY ALL MEANS."

STUDY XXII Direct Approach 81
STUDY XXIII Correspondence 85
STUDY XXIV Tracts and Books 88
STUDY XXV The Prayer List 91
STUDY XXVI Work Among Students 93
STUDY XXVII Meeting Objections 96
STUDY XXVIII No Effort in Vain 100




THE SOUL-WINNER'S MOTIVE.

"FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST."




STUDY I.

FOREWORD AND APPEAL.

Memory Verse: "And they that are wise shall shine as the brightness of
the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars
for ever and ever."--(Dan. xii, 3.)

Scripture for Meditation: Matt. vi, 19-23; Rev. iii, 14-22.


Fred B---- was a medical student. He was stricken, with that dreaded
scourge, consumption. The physicians advised a trip to the mountains.
During the first few months among the Rockies he improved rapidly, and
hope and ambition flamed anew; but it was only a brief respite from
suffering before the final collapse. Lying in a Denver hospital, he was
visited by some consecrated young people, who sang and prayed with him.
He yielded himself to Christ, and the peace of God filled his heart.

They brought him home to a little Iowa city to die. The day after his
arrival the pastor was summoned to his bedside, when the young man
related the circumstances of his conversion. The pastor said, "Then you
are not afraid to die?" "No," said he, "_not afraid, but not ready_."

When asked why he was not ready, he replied: "I have done nothing for my
Master. I have won no souls for him. Could I have six months more to
live that I might bring some souls to Jesus, and thus not go into his
presence empty-handed, I would be satisfied to die. _I am not afraid to
die, but not ready._" Just then the door of the room opened, and the
dying boy's father, an old, white-haired man who had been absent from
home and had not seen his son since his return, came in. The old man was
not a Christian. Then occurred a pathetic scene. The young man threw his
arms about his father's neck, and drew him down upon his knees at the
bedside, urged him to give himself to God, and then, with shortening
breath, uttered such a prayer of intercession as is seldom heard. The
old man sobbed aloud, yielded to Christ, declared his faith, and the
dying boy had won one soul for his Master. In a few hours he had gone
into the presence of the King; _but not empty-handed_.

O ye to whom God has given the strength and vigor of manhood and
womanhood, and who have pledged your allegiance to the Christ of
Calvary, are you winning any souls for your Master? Or are you going
into his presence _empty-handed_? What if in the judgment-day it shall
be seen that some souls who might have been saved have been lost through
your neglect? What if it shall then be seen that the crown of many stars
which you might have won is given to another? And what, if in the great
day of his appearing you shall be found, having gathered no sheaves and
_empty-handed_?




STUDY II.

THE LORD'S COMMAND.

Memory Verse: "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every
creature."--(Mark xvi, 15.)

Scripture for Meditation: Ezek. xxxiii, 1-11.


By the Master's final words to his disciples the obligation is laid upon
every Christian to be a soul-winner. "Ye shall be my witnesses," is the
risen Lord's message to all his followers. No one is excused. "Follow
me," said Christ, "and I will make you fishers of men." And when his
face was set toward Calvary, he said to the Father, "As thou hast sent
me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world." By the
mouth of the prophet Ezekiel, God distinctly says that, if we neglect
"to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his
iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand." We are all
_sent_, and if we shrink or excuse ourselves from our great mission we
shall come into condemnation.

The unsaved multitudes know that every Christian should be an ambassador
for Christ, and when we fail to do our duty we are condemned in their
eyes as well as before God. A writer in the _Epworth Era_ says:

"A college professor who was noted among his fellow-teachers for his
habit of addressing young men upon their personal relations to Christ,
was asked by one of his fellow-professors, 'Do they not resent your
appeals as an impertinence?' He replied: 'No! Nothing is of such
interest to any man as his own soul and its condition. He will never
resent words of warning or comfort if they are prompted by genuine
feeling. When I was a young man, I felt as you do. My wife's cousin, a
young fellow not yet of age, lived in our house for six months. My dread
of meddling was such that I never asked him to be present at family
worship, or spoke to him on the subject of religion. He fell into the
company of a wild set, and was rapidly going to the bad. When I reasoned
with him I spoke of Christ. "Do you call yourself a Christian?" he
asked, assuming an astonished look. "I hope so," I replied. "But you are
not. If you were, he must be your Best Friend. Yet I have lived in your
house for six months, and you have never once named his name to me; no,
he is nothing to you!" I have never forgotten the rebuke.'"




STUDY III.

BY PERSONAL EFFORT.

Memory Verse: "And he brought him to Jesus."--(John i, 42.)

Scripture for Meditation: John i, 35-45.


Have you ever noticed that much of the work which the Master and his
disciples did was "personal work?" Some of our Lord's greatest sermons
were preached to one person. The apostles were all won individually.
Turn to your Bible now, and read the account of the visit of Nicodemus
to Christ, and of the meeting with the woman of Samaria at the well. If
you take the time to follow this theme through the Gospels and through
the Acts of the Apostles, you will be sure to see that the work of
winning souls for Christ by personal effort is the work of every
Christian.

And a conviction of this is the greatest need of the Church to-day. It
is the key to the twentieth-century revival. The world would be
evangelized in this generation did each professing Christian win only
one soul each year for Christ; and the great social and labor problems
of the day would be speedily solved were the great Christian Church
actively engaged in leading men and women to Jesus of Nazareth. Mightier
than the influence of great sermons and fine music and splendid ritual
is the influence of a life consecrated to personal effort in seeking the
lost.

That remarkable soul-winner, Dr. J.O. Peck, now translated, said: "So
great is my conviction of the value of personal effort, as the result of
a lifework of winning souls, that I can not emphasize the method too
strongly. If it were revealed to me from heaven by the archangel Gabriel
that God had given me the certainty of ten years of life, and that as a
condition of my eternal salvation I must win a thousand souls to Christ
in that time; and if it were further conditioned to this, that I might
preach every day for the ten years, but might not personally appeal to
the unconverted outside the pulpit; or that I might not enter the pulpit
during these ten years, but might exclusively appeal to individuals, I
would not hesitate one moment to make the choice of personal effort as
the sole means to be used in securing the conversion of one thousand
souls necessary to my own salvation."

Dr. Theodore Cuyler once said concerning the three thousand souls he had
received into Church fellowship during his ministry, "I have handled
every stone."




STUDY IV.

TROPHIES OF PERSONAL EFFORT.

Memory Verse: "And he that is wise winneth souls."--(Prov. xi, 30, R.V.)

Scripture for Meditation: 2 Cor. v, 14-21.


Is it not a suggestive fact that nearly all those men who have shone
brightly in the galaxy of martyrs, preachers, and reformers in the
Christian Church through the centuries have been won to Christ by the
personal effort of some consecrated life? Think of some in our own age.

Dwight L. Moody, when a clerk in a store, was visited by his
Sunday-school teacher, who put his hand upon the young man's shoulder
and talked to him about Christ; and Mr. Moody says, "I had not felt I
had a soul till then."

Colonel H.H. Hadley, who has kneeled and prayed with over thirty-five
thousand drunkards, declares that one of the agencies which led him to
Christ was a brief interview with Chaplain (now Bishop) McCabe on a
railway-train in Ohio just after the Civil War.

Lord Shaftesbury, one of the greatest Christian philanthropists of the
nineteenth century, was won for Christ in early boyhood by the effort of
Maria Willis, a servant-girl in his father's home.

The conversion of Diaz, the great Cuban evangelist, was due to the
faithfulness of a consecrated young lady of Brooklyn. She found him in a
hospital at the point of death, procured a Spanish New Testament, read
to him the words of mercy and invitation, pointed him to Christ; and he
went back to his own country, a flaming herald of the gospel.

J. Wilbur Chapman, one of the most successful pastor-evangelists of this
generation, says that while in a revival-meeting, when a boy, his
Sunday-school teacher touched him on the elbow, and said, "Do you not
think you had better stand?" and that one touch, as much as anything
else, pushed him into the kingdom.

Joseph F. Berry, whose name is a household word in the Methodist
Episcopal Church, was led to Christ by two young friends who took the
young printer to his father's barn, and held a prayer-meeting with him,
which resulted in a glorious conversion.




STUDY V.

THE WORTH OF A SOUL.

Memory Verse: "For what is a man profited, if he gain the whole world,
and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his
soul?"--(Matt. xvi, 26.)

Scripture for Meditation: Luke xv, 1-10.


What is a life worth? What is your life worth? What is the life of your
son or daughter or mother or wife worth? What would you take for a life?
But if the life of a dear one be worth so much to you, what must be its
value in God's sight, who sees to what depths a soul may plunge and to
what heights it may rise? It may be a small matter to you that in yonder
saloon is a man dissipated and drunken. But what if he were your father
or brother or husband? It may be a very small matter to you that the boy
whom you met on the street is puffing a cigarette and wears already
upon his face the marks of an evil life. But what if he were your boy or
your brother? Yet, in God's sight, his life is as valuable as if he were
your boy or your brother; and every soul is of infinite worth.

Jesus Christ set a high estimate upon human life when he left his
Father's throne and came into this sin-cursed world to suffer and die
that he might redeem us from death.

The Church of to-day needs a new vision of the worth of a soul. We need
to stand beside Calvary and see the price that was paid there for human
life.

John Keble, the poet-preacher of the English Church, said that the
salvation of one soul is worth more than the framing of the Magna Charta
of a thousand worlds.

It was meditation upon the words of the memory verse of this study that
fired the souls of Ignatius Loyola and Francis Xavier with a holy
enthusiasm to rescue the perishing multitudes. Had their successors and
disciples been, filled with the same enthusiasm, and kept themselves
free from the machinations of politics, they would have long since
evangelized the world, and Jesuitism would not have been "the scandal of
Christianity."




STUDY VI.

THE DEATH OF A SOUL.

Memory Verse: "Let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from
the error of his way shall save a soul from death."--(James v, 20.)

Scripture for Meditation: Luke xvi, 19-31.


What is death--the death of a soul? What is it to die eternally? In the
passage for meditation our Lord gives us a glimpse into the realms of
death. Surely the Son of God is not trifling here; nor does he speak to
confuse. For a moment the curtain is drawn, and we see what is actually
transpiring in the future world. In these days there is a disposition in
some quarters to make light of the future punishment of the wicked. Some
preachers are dumb upon the awful punishment of sin, or preach only half
a gospel, saying, as Bishop Warren puts it, "You must repent, as it
were; be converted, in a measure; or you will go to hell, so to speak."

But Christ did not speak with any uncertain sound about the future
punishment of the impenitent. He is authority. Take your Bible and read
such passages as Matt. xxv, 41, 46; Matt. viii, 12; Luke xvi, 23; John
v, 29.

In the light of these words, we must see that the death of a soul means
eternal separation from God, from mercy, and from heaven.

And yet how indifferent we are concerning the unsaved multitudes all
about us who are drifting into a hopeless eternity. The Church needs a
vision like that of the little lad in Olive Schreiner's "Story of a
South African Farm," who, waking at midnight, sees multitudes drifting
over the precipice into eternal night, and throws himself on his face on
the floor, crying out in the agony of his burdened heart to God to have
mercy.

Some one tells of a shepherd in the Far West who, on a dark, stormy
night, found three sheep missing. Going to the kennel where the
faithful shepherd-dog lay with her little family, he bade her go to find
the sheep. An hour afterwards she returned with two. When these had been
put in the fold, he said, "One sheep is yet missing. Go!" The faithful
dog took one mute look of despair at her little family, then was off in
the dark and the storm. In two hours she had returned with the lost
sheep, but was torn and bleeding, and, as she staggered toward the
kennel, fell dead at the door. But if a poor, dumb brute, with no
immortal hope, be obedient, even unto death, what shall we say of men
and women who know the destiny of the soul, and whom the King of kings
has bidden seek the lost, yet are disobedient, indifferent, and
thoughtless as to the dying multitudes about them?




STUDY VII.

THE SUPREME MOTIVE.

Memory Verse: "For the love of Christ constraineth us."--(2 Cor. v, 14.)

Scripture for Meditation: 1 Cor. xiii, R.V.


But the supreme motive in all our efforts to win others should be "the
glory of God." Possessed of an undying love for him who first loved us,
we will have an inspiration to seek the lost for whom he gave his life.
And all our efforts shall be, as Paul puts it in his letter to the
Ephesians, "unto the praise of his glory."

"The love of Christ doth me constrain
To seek the wandering souls of men."

Love never faileth. Love knows no impossibility. He who works for wages
and he who works for love live in two different realms. A lot of men
were entombed in a coal-mine, and great crowds gathered to help clear
away the earth and rescue the miners. An old, gray-headed man came
running up, and, seizing a shovel, began working with the strength of
ten men. Some one asked to relieve the old man. "Get out of the way," he
cried; "I have two boys down there."

Love will triumph; and he whose heart throbs with love to Christ will
find real joy in rescuing from sin those who are the purchase of his
blood, _that his name may be glorified_.

Study his life of self-sacrifice. See again his suffering for sinful
men. Linger in Gethsemane, and behold the agony of Calvary. Then your
heart will begin to throb with love to him "who first loved us."

Get a new vision of your crucified, but now risen, Savior, until the
beauty of his matchless life charms your heart and you are ready to say:

"Come, and possess me whole,
Nor hence again remove;
But sup with me, and let the feast
Be everlasting love."

Then you will possess the highest motive that moves human hearts, and
personal work in soul-winning will become a real delight.




THE SOUL-WINNER'S LIFE.

"YIELD YOURSELVES UNTO GOD."




STUDY VIII.

A DEFINITE EXPERIENCE.

Memory Verse: "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born
again, he can not see the kingdom of God."--(John iii, 3.)

Scripture for Meditation: John iii, 1-15.


In a prayer-meeting a young lady was asked, "What is the first thing we
must do if we would win others to Christ?" She replied, "_We must live
holy ourselves._" She was right. Just as the telegraph wire must be
insulated, so must the life of him who expects to be the messenger of
God be insulated from the old life of sin before he can hope to carry
the loving messages of the gospel to other souls.

This implies a definite experience of conversion. He who would engage in
this most fascinating of all work must have nothing short of an inner
consciousness of sins forgiven and of the presence of Christ in his
life. He must be able to say, like Andrew and like Philip of old, "I
have found him." He must know what it is to have "a new heart" and to
have peace with God.

William Butler, the veteran missionary and soul-winner, now translated,
wrote the author of these studies a letter, in which he said:

"First and foremost, I thank God for a true conversion. When I got
religion, I got it good and thorough. Christ became everything to me.
The law of sin, or temptation to worldly conformity of any kind, was
completely eradicated from my heart; and from that hour to this the law
of Christ has fully satisfied my soul, and made me gloriously free and
independent of the world and its maxims and pleasures. And now, after
fifty-five years' enjoyment of peace with God and humble devotion to his
service, I bless him that I ever gave him my heart and devoted myself to
his work. I am happy. The consoling comforts of the grace of God are
with me by day and by night, and the blessed future is radiant with the
hope of being 'numbered with the saints in glory everlasting.'"

In these days of compromise and doubt we need to have as definite an
experience of salvation as had William Butler. He who would win others
to a new life must himself possess that life, and know it, being able to
say with Paul, "I know whom I have believed."




STUDY IX.

A COMPLETE SURRENDER.

Memory Verse: "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God,
that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable
unto God, which is your reasonable service."--(Rom. xii, 1.)

Scripture for Meditation: Rom. vi, 1-13.


John Wesley said, "Give me one hundred preachers who fear nothing but
sin and desire nothing but God, and I care not a straw whether they be
clergymen or laymen, they alone will shake the gates of hell and set up
the kingdom of heaven upon the earth."

A life surrendered to God will be an invincible life, while the life
only partly surrendered will know nothing but defeat. Someone says that,
in the transfer of property, any reservation implies, also, reserved
rights. If a man sells a ten-acre lot, and keeps a yard square in the
center for himself, he has a right of way across what he has sold to
get to his reservation. And if, in our surrender, we keep back anything,
"that constitutes the devil's territory, and he will trample over all we
call consecrated to get to his own." Therefore a complete surrender of
the life to God is absolutely necessary.

To the rich young man who came to him, Jesus said, "One thing thou
lackest." He demanded an unconditional surrender of every interest of
his life. But the young man was not willing to make the surrender, and
went away sorrowful. Of every man and woman Jesus asks the same
surrender. But many now wander off in the darkness of formality and
doubt because they are not willing. Three things are implied in such a
surrender: (1) An acknowledgment of the Divine ownership and human
stewardship in all temporal affairs; (2) A complete submission of the
will to God; (3) The supremacy of Jesus Christ in the heart and life, so
that the interests of his kingdom are first, always, and everywhere.

There is an old story of a monk who, having been disobedient to the
rules of the monastery, was told he must die. They took him out into the
graveyard, stood him upright in a grave, filled in the earth about his
feet. Then they asked, "Are you dead yet?" He said, "No." The earth was
then filled in about him to his waist, and the question again asked. He
replied, "No." Then they filled in the earth until he was covered, all
but his head, and could scarcely breathe. When asked if he would die, he
replied, "Yes, I will give up; I will die." So may we die to the old
life of self and sin, and live the new life of entire surrender to our
risen Lord!

"If Christ would live and reign in me,
I must die, I must die.
Like him I crucified must be,
I must die, I must die.
So dead that no desire may rise,
To pass for good, or great, or wise,
To any but my Savior's eyes,--
Let me die, let me die."




STUDY X.

THE SPIRIT'S WITNESS.

Memory Verse: "The Spirit Himself beareth witness with our spirit that
we are children of God."--(Rom. viii, 16, R.V.)

Scripture for Meditation: 1 John v, 1-15.


When the life has been wholly surrendered to God, and Christ, the
crucified and risen Savior, is enthroned in the heart and confessed
before men, then the blessed assurance of our sonship with God will be
clear and joyous. No longer shall we say, "I hope I am a Christian," or,
"I am trying to be a Christian;" but, like Paul, we shall exclaim, "I
know whom I have believed."

The witness of the Spirit will give a holy confidence to the
soul-winner.

"What we have seen and felt,
With confidence we tell."

Much of the timidity and reluctance shown by Christians toward personal
work may be traced to a refusal or neglect to live the surrendered life
and have the clear assurance of acceptance with God.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3
Copyright (c) 2007. bestextbooks.com. All rights reserved.

Booker prize shortlist drops early frontrunners
Latest news and features from guardian.co.uk, the world's leading liberal voice

Extract: The Whales by Evie Wyld

Christos Tsiolkas and David Mitchell, both much-tipped when they appeared on the award longlist, have been overlooked in the six finalists

Listen to Claire Armitstead and Sarah Crown discuss the Booker shortlist on a special edition of the Guardian Books Podcast

It headed the most controversial Man Booker prize longlist in years, but Christos Tsiolkas's The Slap has failed to make the final cut for the literary award, as has David Mitchell's much-tipped fifth novel, The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet.

Judges overlooked Australian novelist Tsiolkas's tale of the consequences when a child is slapped at a suburban barbecue – which is either "unbelievably misogynistic" or "riveting from beginning to end", depending on who's asked – and Mitchell, twice shortlisted for the prize in the past, to select a shortlist which ranges from two-time former winner Peter Carey's Parrot and Olivier in America to Emma Donoghue. The Irish writer has also stirred up debate with her Josel Fritzl-inspired Room, the story of a boy and his mother imprisoned in a tiny room for years.

Orange prize winner Andrea Levy's The Long Song, about the last years of slavery in Jamaica; Howard Jacobson's The Finkler Question, a cerebral comedy about grief and Anglo-Jewishness; experimental novelist Tom McCarthy's C, which tells the story of Serge Carrefax, a first world war radio operator who escapes from a German prison camp; and South African writer Damon Galgut's tale of a young man travelling through Greece, India and Africa, In a Strange Room, complete the six-strong shortlist for the £50,000 prize, announced this morning.

"It's been a great privilege and an exciting challenge for us to reduce our longlist of 13 to this shortlist of six outstandingly good novels," said chair of judges Andrew Motion, the former poet laureate. "In doing so, we feel sure we've chosen books which demonstrate a rich variety of styles and themes – while in every case providing deep individual pleasures."

The panel of judges had previously read 138 books to select the 13 titles for their longlist, with Martin Amis's new novel The Pregnant Widow and Ian McEwan's venture into comic fiction Solar both overlooked and Carey the only previous Booker winner on the longlist.

His inclusion on the shortlist today for Parrot and Olivier in America, a reimagining of Democracy in America author Alexis de Tocqueville's visit to the New World, gives him the chance of becoming the first ever writer to win the Booker three times, having previously taken it in 1988 for Oscar and Lucinda and 2001 for True History of the Kelly Gang.

"The omission of both David Mitchell and Christos Tsiolkas from the shortlist is a real shock. While both writers might rightly feel aggrieved at being overlooked, I imagine it took some wrangling amongst the judges to reduce one of the best longlists in years to six," said Jonathan Ruppin at independent book chain Foyles, who, while praising all six books for their "lightness of touch which means the reader doesn't get bogged down in something worthy or dull", predicted that Room was the most likely title to go on to win the award.

Waterstone's tipped C to take the prize, with fiction buying manager Simon Burke calling it "a challenging yet dazzling novel". "The news that David Mitchell has not made the shortlist will cause great wailing and gnashing of teeth across the bookworld, but perhaps is a useful reminder of the independence and unpredictability of the Booker," he said. "But this is still a hugely varied and exciting list, worthy of the Booker brand. Carey and Levy have to be strong contenders, but our money is on Tom McCarthy. The more people that read [C] the better."

The bookies agreed, with William Hill immediately installing McCarthy as 2/1 favourite to win the prize. "There has been a considerable media buzz around all of the books on the shortlist, and literary punters have staked more money in total on Tom McCarthy to win than any of the other authors, so he is a worthy favourite," said spokesman Graham Sharpe. Donoghue and Galgut came in second at the bookmaker, both at 3/1, with one customer so sure that In A Strange Room would win that they placed £400 on Galgut at 7/1, the largest single bet on the prize "for a few years", said Sharpe.

Carey came in fourth, at 5/1, with Levy at 7/1 and Jacobson the 8/1 outside to take the prize.

The opinion-splitting novels picked for this year's longlist have helped make it the most popular since 2001, with Tsiolkas's novel selling the most copies, followed by Donoghue's. The winner, who will join a roster of former winners including Margaret Atwood, Roddy Doyle and JM Coetzee, will be announced on 12 October. Last year's winner Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel is the fastest-selling Booker winner ever, with sales of around half-a-million copies to date.

The Man Booker shortlist in full:

Peter Carey's Parrot and Olivier in America

Emma Donoghue's Room

Damon Galgut's In a Strange Room

Howard Jacobson's The Finkler Question

Andrea Levy's The Long Song

Tom McCarthy's C

To buy all six Booker shortlisted titles for only £65 (save £37.94) with free UK p&p visit the Guardian Bookshop or call 0330 333 6846.


guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

The Marxist Miliband

Evie Wyld, whose debut novel After the Fire, a Still Small Voice won the 2009 John Llewellyn Rhys prize, has written a short story, The Whales, exclusively for Booktrust, where she is currently writer-in-residence. Here we join Jimmy, Elaine, Terry and Yvonne, deep in the bush after five days of walking. The conclusion will appear on the Booktrust website tomorrow

There are four of them footslogging single file along the trail. They sweat and wave their sticks at the flies, spitting the salt off their lips and feeling the rub of their backpacks, hot on their shoulders. A storm bird knows about them from miles off and lets out a wop-wop-wop, getting higher and louder as it goes. Jimmy watches Elaine look up at the gum-treed sky. He follows her gaze. No, he thinks. The bird is wrong; overhead is blue without a wash of cloud.

The crack of dry bark, the whistle of whip birds and sometimes a thundering in the undergrowth – a wombat, a pademelon – it all makes Jimmy feel younger. He can feel the muscles in his thighs working, can feel them thank him for not being stood at the assembly line six hours a day.

Five days of walking and now they are deep in the bush. In another day, they'll turn east, head for the sea, where if they make good time, they'll see the humpbacks heading south towards the Antarctic, their new calves in tow. There'll be a party that night, between the four of them. Terry the young bow-legged one from further down the line with a touch of the idiot about him, Yvonne his frizz-plaited, heavy cousin who runs accounts and her friend Elaine who is nothing to do with the factory and who returns his glances, smiling. Not a bad lot really, especially the girls.

Three days down the coast and they'll arrive home about ready for that soft bed and the meal without char-grit from the campfire, or the dog food pong of tinned meat. It's been good so far. He thinks of what was waiting for him if he hadn't gone bush this week – all those monkey-wrenches wanting to be set. It's been time to move on for a while, he sees that now. Only he'll wait and see what comes of Elaine and the damp hair that ringlets at the back of her neck.

Later in the day he spots a bower bird's chapel. Even this far in, the bird has found a blue toothbrush and bits of turquoise plastic to frame its humpy. He takes a photo, so that the side of Elaine's brown leg slides up the view finder.

'They only collect blue stuff', he says, mainly to Elaine. He feels the roots of his fingers strain as he reigns himself in, his stiff hands reminding him not to overdo it. Steady on.

Chances are, Elaine already knows more than him about bower birds – she told him she's walked the bush for six years, since she left varsity, this last two with Yvonne for company and he only knows from camping out when money gets bad. But he wants to show something to her. Elaine squats next to him and traces an arc with one finger in the dirt, looking at the toothbrush. She is smiling with her eyebrows pulled in.

'It's to impress the female – then she'll come down and he'll do a sexy dance.' As he explains, he wiggles his tail a little in a sexy dance and Elaine smiles wider.

Terry who has been leaning over them to get a look, gyrates around his walking stick. What his mating dance lacks in accuracy it makes up for in energy and the other three look on in silence while he makes the noise of a boombox with his lips pressed together. Jimmy's fingers stretch out towards the ground in embarrassment as he keeps his bad eye – the eye that he thinks of as his secret eye – on Elaine.

'You're a disgustin' specimen, Terry', says the stone-buttocked Yvonne. Terry quickens his hips and points, wiggling himself towards her.

Yvonne stands stiff and still like a wary buffalo. 'Never been the brightest crayon in the box', she says and they all push past him, smiles held down. Jimmy looks back to see him finish in a bunny squat and a flick of his head.

'Yeah!' says Terry loudly, arms raised and both thumbs up to the tops of the trees like they are his audience.

'Yeah' and he finds a cigarette in his back pocket, lights it and considers its glowing end before following on.

There'd been a night of heavy breathing when Elaine and Jimmy faced each other in their swags. They hadn't touched but they'd looked hard in the dark, seeing the glints of each other's tongues, teeth and eyes. There is a luxury in not touching, Jimmy thinks, in not just going with your gut; they don't have all the time in the world but they have this time, which won't end for another few days.

He looks forward to it, imagines the beach in an old film kind of a way. The last night when they will open the wine they've lugged all this way – they'll cool the bottles in a rock pool for a couple of hours, while they see what the beach has for them. He's a beach person at heart, it's where his childhood is at and he can't wait to show off about it. Terry's brought along his spearfishing gear and says he reckons on a good spot up at the point. Jimmy imagines striding into camp, a jewfish slung over one shoulder, a clutch of softly ticking crays hung from their whiskers in his other fist. When the moon's up and the salty wine is drunk, their fingers warm and sticky with sand and cray brains, he'll rub his foot over hers. He'll put his wrists either side of her jaw, so as not to touch her with his prawny fingers and he'll plant a long warm kiss on her mouth, one that shows them both that this is the start of things. He could think about staying on at the factory, him who hasn't stayed in one spot for more than six months at a time since he was 16. Or else, Elaine could come with him, go feral together up the coast. He gets the feeling there's not much holding her to the city anymore. He looks down at himself and he speaks softly to his hands You're orright you bung-eyed bastard. You're an okay sort after all.

Elaine breaks off from the group to take a pee in the scrub. She squats behind a paperbark and laughs. She's been hip deep in croc water, has woken up feeling a huntsman, as big as both of her hands put together, tangling with her feet in her swag. But the idea that the group might hear the sound of her pissing makes it so that she can't go. Eventually, she manages and makes a wet stain on the gum leaves. She pulls her shorts back up and a twig cracks not far up ahead. Shadows rise and fall as something heavy moves away. She catches up with the others at a jog.

Jimmy, that trunk of a man with his duff eye and his bear hands and her pal Yvonne are arguing about a fish. The argument is snapper versus flathead, but in what capacity Elaine is not sure. Terry is unusually quiet for a conversation involving food and he walks a little way from Jimmy and Yvonne.

'Stone lighter?' he asks quietly.

'It was a pee', she says, but her face flushes anyway.

'Right', says Terry and he smiles a weird smile. Elaine accidentally catches his eye.

By five o'clock they reach a small billabong. They strip down to their underwear and jump in like kids, laughing, drowning each other with splashing. Terry tries to duck the girls under, Jimmy dives for yabbies and opens his eyes in the bourbon-coloured water. The white legs of the other three bicycle in the open water. When he comes up for air, he can see that Yvonne is pleased with her breasts and bobs them gently up and down making small waves to the bank.

Jimmy looks a long time at Elaine and she looks back. There is a water level smile between them. He is aware of the ripples that come from his heartbeat and he sees how Elaine's canines creep over her bottom lip. Her hair is dark now, but in the light you can see into it. Where the sun hasn't caught her, her skin is like the damp underside of a leaf.

Elaine thinks she's some wonderful creature. The water holds her in on all sides, she feels good in her skin. The billabong is black from the tea trees that line the bank and when she flicks her legs to the surface she's a pale fish. She pauses before she puts her head under – a brief worry about spluttering and snotting in front of Jimmy, but then she thinks of the beach and the sea to come and she duck dives.

The dark water lifts her hair up and spreads it out, it pushes around her cheeks and taps on her eyelids as she reaches out for the leafy mud of the billabong floor, but even though she goes deep, her hands touch nothing. She kicks up for air and sends a flume of mist from her mouth. She smiles widely at Jimmy who floats on his back like an otter, hands clasped over his chest, dreaming of something.

Frogs and magpies are loud and someone finds a leech and then another and another and there's shrill laughing.

Terry shouts, 'It's eatin' the fuckin' kidneys out of me!' then, 'You girls want me to check under your bras?'

Even though everyone has had a leech before and every person has treated that leech with salt or the tip of a cigarette, quietly, without fear, they all pretend this is the first time they've been bitten and they wallow in the hysteria, enjoying it like gobble-mouthed kids.

Out of the water, damp shirts wrapped around them like towels, Jimmy burns a fat one off Elaine's shoulder. She looks at him sideways and curls a bit of paper bark around her finger.

'Ta', she says, as Jimmy passes her the cigarette which they share puffs from. He looks at her with his good eye. It creases in the corner.

The four of them set up camp a little way from the water hole, away from the leeches. Terry makes a small tepee out of kindling and rings stones around it to stop the fire spreading. Once it's lit they hang over a billy and drink tea while they watch the bats turning circles in the creeping darkness. Yvonne stirs up a thick damper and they bake it in a pan over the fire, to be eaten with a warmed tin of bean stew and rice pudding for afters. The birds are mostly quiet and the cicadas and frogs rev themselves up, as everyone slaps on Rid against the mosquitoes.

'Reckon we'll beat those whales, the way we're moving', Terry says cleaning his bowl with a licked finger.

'Fuckin' A.' Yvonne brings out a flask of bourbon to swill down the pudding with. She takes a long unflinching pull of it before passing it round and beginning a murder story.

'There's this girl went missing not far from Tully – all the kids hitchhike out there…' The dark gets deeper and everyone settles in, enjoying the creep of it. Elaine thinks that there's nothing you can't fix by putting your cheek to the land and feeling it settle. She studies the landscape of Jimmy's face. He is unashamedly enthralled by Yvonne's story. His funny eye looks directly at Elaine but doesn't see her. The lines on his forehead have dirt ground in. He's older than Elaine and she wonders what it is he's been doing all the time he's been alive.

In the silence, after Yvonne's concluding remark 'They only ever found her thumb', Terry farts, a loud one and everyone groans.

'Well, that's put that to bed', he says and they all unroll their swags around the fire and climb in for the night. Jimmy feels the hot weight of Elaine's foot on his and his fingers twitch on their own. Elaine sees Terry's wet eyes, tangerine from the fire and spreads her toes out. She stays awake for as long as possible, making up script after script of how it will go with Jimmy once they reach the sea. She replays the swim at waterhole until she's unsure if she's made parts of it up. She finally falls asleep with her heartbeat high in her chest.

Jimmy wakes long before dawn with a pressure like a stone on his bladder. He swears quietly and rolls out of his swag to ease the ache against a tree. In the undergrowth to his right, something scrabbles. He catches a strong scent and sees a wet snout or eye in the dark. A rumble in the brush and it's gone. Probably a pig or a dingo, but he's glad to get back to the group, where the coals in the fire are still orange. He checks each sleeper. Terry is spread at a diagonal, mouth open, not snoring but making noise. Yvonne sleeps on her front clutching the loose material of her swag, not letting it get away. Elaine is on her side and a brown arm has slithered free. Her hair makes a perfect ring around her ear. As he watches she produces a little noise, a tiny pop from her lips as they're opened with breath. Sleep speaking, thinks Jimmy as he burrows back into his swag, careful not to jog her feet with his, but careful also that they are touching.

The morning is hot and blue from the outset. After tea and a tidy up, they set off, aiming to reach the sea before sunset. Jimmy looks forward to a swim in the bubbling salt, a proper clean down with no bloodsuckers. Terry starts to talk about food almost immediately,

'Lamb chops.' He says confidently to Yvonne. 'That's gotta be the best type of food; lamb chops with the whole grill piece; onions, mushrooms, boiled spuds – no tomatoes though, I'm so over tomatoes.' Yvonne rolls her eyes at him.

'Couldn't give a rat's ring, Terry,' but she hands him a date and a piece of chocolate. Elaine enjoys her feeling of emptiness. Her spit tastes of eucalyptus, she feels new, like the air and blood in her has been filtered out and changed for something better.

After midday, there's a yell from Terry up ahead.

'Get a look at this!' The other three catch up to find him crouching in a small clearing surrounded by stay-a-while and they peer over his shoulder. There's a dead butcher bird on the ground and following the line of Terry's finger into one of the thorny bushes, they see its larder. A small mouse impaled through the neck, stiff and dry, missing parts of its hind quarters, a large Christmas beetle, upside down with the thorn square through the middle and last, still twitching, its legs up and angry, barely impaled through its leaking abdomen, a mouse spider.

'Christssake' whispers Jimmy stepping back.

'How the poor bastard got it up here, I can't figure,' Terry says, pushing the bird with his foot to reveal the green ants starting on its wing. The mouse spider's fangs, black and thick and shiny are up and ready to strike. It waves its legs in the air. Terry picks up a twig to poke it with, but Yvonne knocks it out of his hand.

'Don't be a bum, Terry. I'm not carrying yer fat dead lump out of here if you get bitten. You can count on that.' Jimmy takes a photograph, in which Terry insists on including his own hand, so as get the scale of the thing.

They start to walk on, but Elaine stays behind a beat or two looking at the spider; its fangs reaching for her, legs pointing.

'The sky is falling, the sky is falling!' Yvonne shrieks in a chicken voice as thunder mumbles in the distance. Elaine looks again at the sky, but it's still clear. The thunder is a long way off, but you can smell it in the air, which is heavy and hot. The tips of the trees sway in the sky, but there's no breeze down on the bush floor.

A goanna clings to a Moreton Bay fig above them but nobody sees it.

Jimmy touches the side of Elaine's hand with his little finger and as he does, the leaves to the side of her snaffle and a striped snake comes streaking out of the ground, hitting her on the boot. She barks loudly and kicks trying to get her foot away. The snake's fangs are deeply embedded in the leather of her boot and she shakes her leg hard while around her the others dip and weave and try to help and point their sticks. Jimmy thinks he has control of the situation when he holds Elaine's arm and beats at the snake with his walking stick, accidentally cracking her on the shin. The snake is dislodged, but instead of bolting back into the undergrowth, it turns again and bites Elaine, once, twice, three times and a fourth; calf, back of the knee, thigh, deeply, deeply again on her inner thigh. It's snap-quick and Jimmy doesn't have time to understand and still has Elaine by the arm so she doesn't get away. Finally, Terry gets it – a blow to the eye – and it's stunned. He stomps on the head, but it still twitches, so he beats it with his stick, smashing, till it changes colour, loses its stripes. It is still, but the bush crackles and carries on.

Elaine is tight-lipped and white. Yvonne cries softly into her cupped hands, the small beeps of a bird. Terry shoes leaves over the corpse of the snake and Jimmy still holds Elaine's arm, his grip hard from not knowing what to do, from doing the wrong thing. There is blood, Elaine thinks how it looks like she's got her period and then thinks she'd love a piece of liquorice from her backpack. She starts to turn around, to take her pack off, but her legs have lost their hardness and she is sliding back into Jimmy who is stiff and still.

'Jesus H Christ,' whispers Terry. He looks at the snake and away, prodding it rhythmically with his stick. 'Jimmy,' he says. 'Jesus, Jimmy.'

'S'just a nip,' says Elaine.

As she slides to the ground with the help of Jimmy who has become flesh again, Elaine thinks about the liquorice and then about how it was a tiger. A big dose of tiger and she's starting to feel it now, it feels like it bit her in the artery of her groin. The big one. The one where all the blood lives.

Yvonne straightens herself. She helps Elaine's pack off her back and slides it behind her back to prop her up. She pulls out her poncho and arranges it over Elaine's wounded leg, to keep it out of sight and then snaps the men into action.

'Hot water - get a fire on. Get the first aid.' She looks at the two men who are twisting their fingers. 'C'mon s'only a fuckin' snake bite, let's get it sorted and get on with it.' She's right and Jimmy says so. He says, 'Only a snake bite.' Smiling at Elaine, but what they all think, Jimmy, Terry, Yvonne and Elaine is but it's tiger. And we are deep in. Deep.

• To read the conclusion of the story, visit the Booktrust website from Tuesday 7 September.

• Evie Wyld works in the independent Review Bookshop in Peckham. She is taking part in a live-streamed book club Q&A from the shop at 7.30pm on Thursday 9 September. To find out how to submit questions for the event, visit the Booktrust website


guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds