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  ELDER PILL, PREACHER

  I

  Old man Bacon was pinching forked barbs on a wire fence one rainy day inJuly, when his neighbor Jennings came along the road on his way to town.Jennings never went to town except when it rained too hard to workoutdoors, his neighbors said; and of old man Bacon it was said he_never_ rested _nights_ nor Sundays.

  Jennings pulled up. "Good morning, neighbor Bacon."

  "Mornin'," rumbled the old man without looking up.

  "Taking it easy, as usual, I see. Think it's going to clear up?"

  "May, an' may not. Don't make much differunce t' me," growled Bacon,discouragingly.

  "Heard about the plan for a church?"

  "Naw."

  "Well, we're goin' to hire Elder Pill from Douglass to come over andpreach every Sunday afternoon at the schoolhouse, an' we want help t'pay him--the laborer is worthy of his hire."

  "Sometimes he is an' then agin he ain't. Y' needn't look t' me f'r adollar. I ain't got no intrust in y'r church."

  "Oh, yes, you have--besides, y'r sister--"

  "She ain't got no more time 'n I have t' go t' church. We're obleeged todo 'bout all we c'n stand t' pay our debts, let alone tryun' to supporta preacher." And the old man shut the pinchers up on a barb with avicious grip.

  Easy-going Mr. Jennings laughed in his silent way. "I guess you'll helpwhen the time comes," he said, and, clucking to his team, drove off.

  "I guess I won't," muttered the grizzled old giant as he went on withhis work. Bacon was what is called land poor in the West, that is, hehad more land than money; still he was able to give if he felt disposed.It remains to say that he was _not_ disposed, being a sceptic and ascoffer. It angered him to have Jennings predict so confidently that hewould help.

  The sun was striking redly through a rift in the clouds, about threeo'clock in the afternoon, when he saw a man coming up the lane, walking:on the grass at the side of the road, and whistling merrily. The old manlooked at him from under his huge eyebrows with some curiosity. As hedrew near, the pedestrian ceased to whistle, and, just as the farmerexpected him to pass, he stopped and said, in a free and easy style:--

  "How de do? Give me a chaw t'baccer. I'm Pill, the new minister. I takefine-cut when I can get it," he said, as Bacon put his hand into hispocket. "Much obliged. How goes it?"

  "Tollable, tollable," said the astounded farmer, looking hard at Pill ashe flung a handful of tobacco into his mouth.

  "Yes, I'm the new minister sent around here to keep you fellows in thetraces and out of hell-fire. Have y' fled from the wrath?" he asked, ina perfunctory way.

  "You are, eh?" said Bacon, referring back to his profession.

  "I am, just! How do you like that style of barb fence? Ain't the twistedwire better?"

  "I s'pose they be, but they cost more."

  "Yes, costs more to go to heaven than to hell. You'll think so after Iboard with you a week. Narrow the road that leads to light, and broadthe way that leads--how's your soul anyway, brother?"

  "Soul's all right. I find more trouble to keep m' body go'n."

  "Give us your hand; so do I. All the same we must prepare for the nextworld. We're gettin' old; lay not up your treasures where moth and rustcorrupt and thieves break through and steal."

  Bacon was thoroughly interested in the preacher, and was studying himcarefully. He was tall, straight, and superbly proportioned;broad-shouldered, wide-lunged, and thewed like a Chippewa. His rathersmall steel-blue eyes twinkled, and his shrewd face and small head, setwell back, completed a remarkable figure. He wore his reddish beard inthe usual way of Western clergymen, with mustache chopped close.

  Bacon spoke slowly:--

  "You look like a good, husky man to pitch in the barn-yard; you've toomuch muscle f'r preachun'."

  "Come and hear me next Sunday, and if you say so then, I'll quit,"replied Mr. Pill, quietly. "I give ye my word for it. I believe inpreachers havin' a little of the flesh and the devil; they cansympathize better with the rest of ye." The sarcasm was lost on Bacon,who continued to look at him. Suddenly he said, as if with aninvoluntary determination:--

  "Where ye go'n' to stay t'night?"

  "I don't know; do you?" was the quick reply.

  "I reckon ye can hang out with me, 'f ye feel like ut. We ain't verypurty, at our house, but we eat. You go along down the road and tell 'emI sent yeh. Ye'll find an' ol' dusty Bible round some'rs--I s'pose yespend y'r spare time read'n' about Joshua an' Dan'l--"

  "I spend more time reading men. Well, I'm off! I'm hungrier 'n a graywolf in a bear-trap." And off he went as he came. But he did notwhistle; he chewed.

  Bacon felt as if he had made too much of a concession, and had a stronginclination to shout after him, and retract his invitation; but he didnot, only worked on, with an occasional bear-like grin. There wassomething captivating in this fellow's free and easy way.

  When he came up to the house an hour or two later, in singular goodhumor for him, he found the Elder in the creamery, with his nieceEldora, who was not more won by him than was his sister Jane Buttles, hewas so genial and put on so few religious frills.

  Mrs. Buttles never put on frills of any kind. She was a most frightfultoiler, only excelled (if excelled at all) by her brother. Unlovely ather best, when about her work in her faded calico gown and flat shoes,hair wisped into a slovenly knot, she was depressing. But she was a goodwoman, of sterling integrity, and ambitious for her girl. She was veryglad of the chance to take charge of her brother's household afterMarietta married.

  Eldora was as attractive as her mother was depressing. She was veryyoung at this time and had the physical perfection--at least as regardsbody--that her parents must have had in youth. She was above the averageheight of woman, with strong swell of bosom and glorious, erect carriageof head. Her features were coarse, but regular and pleasing, and hermanner boyish.

  Elder Pill was on the best terms with them as he watched the milk beingskimmed out of the "submerged cans" ready for the "caaves and hawgs," asMrs. Buttles called them.

  "Uncle told you t' come here 'nd stay t' supper, did he? What's comeover him?" said the girl, with a sort of audacious humor.

  "Bill has an awful grutch agin preachers," said Mrs. Buttles, as shewiped her hands on her apron. "I declare, I don't see how--"

  "_Some_ preachers, not _all_ preachers," laughed Pill, in his mellownasal. "There are preachers, and then again preachers. I'm one o' thet'other kind."

  "I sh'd think y' was," laughed the girl.

  "Now, Eldory, you run right t' the pig-pen with that milk, whilst I goin an' set the tea on."

  Mr. Pill seized the can of milk, saying, with a twang: "Show me the waythat I may walk therein," and, accompanied by the laughing girl, maderapid way to the pig-pen just as the old man set up a ferocious shout tocall the hired hand out of the corn-field.

  "How'd y' come to send _him_ here?" asked Mrs. Buttles, nodding towardPill.

  "Damfino! I kind o' liked him--no nonsense about him," answered Bacon,going into temporary eclipse behind his hands as he washed his face atthe cistern.

  At the supper table Pill was "easy as an old shoe"; ate with his knife,talked about fatting hogs, suggested a few points on raising clover,told of pioneer experiences in Michigan, and soon won them--hired manand all--to a most favorable opinion of himself. But he did not trenchon religious matters at all.

  The hired man in his shirt-sleeves, and smelling frightfully of tobaccoand sweat (as did Bacon), sat with open mouth, at times forgetting toeat, in his absorbing interest in the minister's yarns.

  "Yes, I've got a family, too much of a family, in fact--that is, I thinkso sometimes when I'm pinched. Our Western people are so indigent--inplain terms, poor--they _can't_ do any better than they do. But we pullthrough--we pull through! John, you look like a stout fellow, but I'llbet a hat I can _down_ you three out of five."

  "I bet you can't," grinned the hired man. It was the climax of all, thatbet.

  "I'll take y' in hand an' flop y' bo
th," roared Bacon from hislion-like throat, his eyes glistening with rare good-nature from theshadow of his gray brows. But he admired the minister's broad shouldersat the same time. If this fellow panned out as he promised, he was arare specimen.

  After supper the Elder played a masterly game of croquet with Eldora,beating her with ease; then he wandered out to the barn and talkedhorses with the hired man, and finished by stripping off his coat andputting on one of Mrs. Buttles's aprons to help milk the cows.

  But at breakfast the next morning, when the family were about pitchinginto their food as usual without ceremony, the visitor spoke in animperious tone and with lifted hand. "_Wait!_ Let us look to the Lordfor His blessing."

  They waited till the grace was said, but it threw a depressingatmosphere over the group; evidently they considered the trouble begun.At the end of the meal the minister asked:--

  "Have you a Bible in the house?"

  "I reckon there's one around somewhere. Elly, go 'n see 'f y' can'traise one," said Mrs. Buttles, indifferently.

  "Have you any objection to family devotion?" asked Pill, as the book wasplaced in his hands by the girl.

  "No; have all you want," said Bacon, as he rose from the table andpassed out the door.

  "I guess I'll see the thing through," said the hand.

  "It ain't just square to leave the women folks to bear the brunt of it."

  It was shortly after breakfast that the Elder concluded he'd walk up toBrother Jennings's and see about church matters.

  "I shall expect you, Brother Bacon, to be at the service at 2.30."

  "All right, go ahead expectun'," responded Bacon, with an inscrutablesidewise glance.

  "You promised, you remember?"

  "The--devil--I did!" the old man snarled.

  The Elder looked back with a smile, and went off whistling in the warm,bright morning.

  II

  The schoolhouse down on the creek was known as "Hell's Corners" allthrough the county, because of the frequent rows that took place thereinat "corkuses" and the like, and also because of the number of teachersthat had been "ousted" by the boys. In fact, it was one of those placesstill to be found occasionally in the West, far from railroads andschools, where the primitive ignorance and ferocity of men still prowl,like the panthers which are also found sometimes in the deeps of theIowa timber lands.

  The most of this ignorance and ferocity, however, was centred in thefamily of Dixons, a dark-skinned, unsavory group of Missourians. Itconsisted of old man Dixon and wife, and six sons, all man-grown,great, gaunt, sinewy fellows, with no education, but superstitious assavages. If anything went wrong in "Hell's Corners" everybody knew thatthe Dixons were "on the rampage again." The school-teachers were warnedagainst the Dixons, and the preachers were besought to convert theDixons.

  In fact, John Jennings, as he drove Pill to the schoolhouse next day,said:--

  "If you can convert the Dixon boys, Elder, I'll give you the best horsein my barn."

  "I work not for such hire," said Mr. Pill, with a look of deep solemnityon his face, belied, indeed, by a twinkle in his small, keen eye--atwinkle which made Milton Jennings laugh candidly.

  There was considerable curiosity, expressed by a murmur of lips andvoices, as the minister's tall figure entered the door and stood for amoment in a study of the scene before him. It was a characteristicallyWestern scene. The women sat on one side of the schoolroom, the men onthe other; the front seats were occupied by squirming boys and girls intheir Sunday splendor.

  On the back, to the right, were the young men, in their best vests, withpaper collars and butterfly neckties, with their coats unbuttoned, theirhair plastered down in a fascinating wave on their brown foreheads. Nota few were in their shirt-sleeves. The older men sat immediately betweenthe youths and boys, talking in hoarse whispers across the aisles aboutthe state of the crops and the county ticket, while the women in muchthe same way conversed about the children and raising onions andstrawberries. It was their main recreation, this Sunday meeting.

  "Brethren!" rang out the imperious voice of the minister, "let us pray."

  The audience thoroughly enjoyed the Elder's prayer. He was certainlygifted in that direction, and his petition grew genuinely eloquent ashis desires embraced the "ends of the earth and the utterm'st parts ofthe seas thereof." But in the midst of it a clatter was heard, and fiveor six strapping fellows filed in with loud thumpings of their brogans.

  Shortly after they had settled themselves with elaborate impudence onthe back seat, the singing began. Just as they were singing the lastverse, every individual voice wavered and all but died out inastonishment to see William Bacon come in--an unheard-of thing! And witha clean shirt, too! Bacon, to tell the truth, was feeling as much out ofplace as a cat in a bath-tub, and looked uncomfortable, even shamefaced,as he sidled in, his shapeless hat gripped nervously in both hands;coatless and collarless, his shirt open at his massive throat. The girlstittered, of course, and the boys hammered each other's ribs, moved bythe unusual sight. Milton Jennings, sitting beside Bettie Moss, said:--

  "Well! may I jump straight up and never come down!"

  And Shep Watson said: "May I never see the back o' my neck!" Whichpleased Bettie so much that she grew quite purple with efforts toconceal her laughter; she always enjoyed a joke on her father.

  But all things have an end, and at last the room became quiet as Mr.Pill began to read the Scripture, wondering a little at the commotion.He suspected that those dark-skinned, grinning fellows on the back seatwere the Dixon boys, and knew they were bent on fun. The physique of theminister being carefully studied, the boys began whispering amongthemselves, and at last, just as the sermon opened, they began to pushthe line of young men on the long seat over toward the girls' side,squeezing Milton against Bettie. This pleasantry encouraged one of themto whack his neighbor over the head with his soft hat, causing greatlaughter and disturbance. The preacher stopped. His cool, penetratingvoice sounded strangely unclerical as he said:--

  "There are some fellows here to-day to have fun with me. If they don'tkeep quiet, they'll have more fun than they can hold." (At this point agreen crab-apple bounded up the aisle.) "I'm not to be bulldozed."

  He pulled off his coat and laid it on the table before him, and, amid awondering silence, took off his cuffs and collar, saying:--

  "I can preach the word of the Lord just as well without my coat, and Ican throw rowdies out the door a little better in my shirt-sleeves."

  Had the Dixon boys been a little shrewder as readers of human character,or if they had known why old William Bacon was there, they would havekept quiet; but it was not long before they began to push again, and atlast one of them gave a squeak, and a tussle took place. The preacherwas in the midst of a sentence:--

  "An evil deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of mustard seed. It issmall, but it grows steadily, absorbing its like from the earth and air,sending out roots and branches, till at last--"

  There was a scuffle and a snicker. Mr. Pill paused, and gazed intentlyat Tom Dixon, who was the most impudent and strongest of the gang; thenhe moved slowly down on the astonished young savage. As he came his eyesseemed to expand like those of an eagle in battle, steady, remorseless,unwavering, at the same time that his brows shut down over them--aglance that hushed every breath. The awed and astonished ruffians sat asif paralyzed by the unuttered yet terribly ferocious determination ofthe preacher's eyes. His right hand was raised, the other was clenchedat his waist. There was a sort of solemnity in his approach, like atiger creeping upon a foe.

  At last, after what seemed minutes to the silent, motionlesscongregation, his raised hand came down on the shoulder of the leaderwith the exact, resistless precision of the tiger's paw, and the ruffianwas snatched from his seat to the floor sprawling. Before he could rise,the steel-like grip of the roused preacher sent him halfway to the door,and then out into the dirt of the road.

  Turning, Pill strode down the aisle once more. The half-risencongregation made way for hi
m, curiously. When he came within reach ofDick, the fellow struck savagely out at the preacher, only to have hisblow avoided by a lithe, lightning-swift movement of the body above thehips (a trained boxer's trick), and to find himself lying bruised anddazed on the floor.

  By this time the other brothers had recovered from their stupor, and,with wild curses, leaped over the benches toward the fearless preacher.

  But now a new voice was heard in the sudden uproar--a new but familiarvoice. It was the mighty voice of William Bacon, known far and wide as aterrible antagonist, a man who had never been whipped. He was like awild beast excited to primitive savagery by the smell of blood.

  "Stand _back_, you hell-hounds!" he said, leaping between them and thepreacher. "You know me. Lay another hand on that man an', by the livun'God, you answer t' me. Back thear!"

  Some of the men cheered, most stood irresolute. The women crowdedtogether, the children began to scream with terror, while through it allPill dragged his last assailant toward the door.

  Bacon made his way down to where the Dixons had halted, undecided whatto do. If the preacher had the air and action of the tiger, Bacon lookedthe grisly bear--his eyebrows working up and down, his hands clenchedinto frightful bludgeons, his breath rushing through his hairy nostrils.

  "Git out o' hyare," he growled. "You've run things here jest about longenough. Git out!"

  His hands were now on the necks of two of the boys and he was hustlingthem toward the door.

  "If you want 'o whip the preacher, meet him in the public road--one at atime; he'll take care o' himself. Out with ye," he ended, kicking themout. "Show your faces here agin, an' I'll break ye in two."

  The non-combative farmers now began to see the humor of the wholetransaction, and began to laugh; but they were cut short by the calmvoice of the preacher at his desk:--

  "But a _good_ deed, brethren, is like unto a grain of wheat planted ingood earth, that bringeth forth fruit in due season an hundred fold."

  III

  Mr. Pill, with all his seeming levity, was a powerful hand at revivals,as was developed at the "protracted" meetings at the Grove duringDecember. Indeed, such was the pitiless intensity of his zeal that agloom was cast over the whole township; the ordinary festivities stoppedor did not begin at all.

  The lyceum, which usually began by the first week in December, was putentirely out of the question, as were the spelling-schools and"exhibitions." The boys, it is true, still drove the girls to meeting inthe usual manner; but they all wore a furtive, uneasy air, and theirlaughter was not quite genuine at its best, and died away altogetherwhen they came near the schoolhouse, and they hardly recovered from theeffects of the preaching till a mile or two had been spun behind theshining runners. It took all the magic of the jingle of the bells andthe musical creak of the polished steel on the snow to win them back tolaughter.

  As for Elder Pill, he was as a man transformed. He grew more intenseeach night, and strode back and forth behind his desk and pounded theBible like an assassin. No more games with the boys, no more poking thegirls under the chin! When he asked for a chew of tobacco now it waswith an air which said: "I ask it as sustenance that will give mestrength for the Lord's service," as if the demands of the flesh hadweakened the spirit.

  Old man Bacon overtook Milton Jennings early one Monday morning, asMilton was marching down toward the Seminary at Rock River. It wasintensely cold and still, so cold and still that the ring of the coldsteel of the heavy sleigh, the snort of the horses, and the old man'svoice came with astonishing distinctness to the ears of the hurryingyouth, and it seemed a very long time before the old man came up.

  "Climb on!" he yelled, out of his frosty beard. He was seated on the"hind bob" of a wood-sleigh, on a couple of blankets. Milton clamberedon, knowing well he'd freeze to death there.

  "Reckon I heerd you prowlun' around the front door with my girl lastnight," Bacon said at length. "The way you both 'tend out t' meetun'ought 'o sanctify yeh; must 'a' stayed to the after-meetun', didn'tyeh?"

  "Nope. The front part was enough for--"

  "Danged if I was any more fooled with a man in m' life. I b'lieve thewhole thing is a little scheme on the bretheren t' raise a dollar."

  "Why so?"

  "Waal, y' see, Pill ain't got much out o' the app'intment thus fur, andhe ain't likely to, if he don't shake 'em up a leetle. Borrud tendollars o' me t'other day."

  Well, thought Milton, whatever his real motive is, Elder Pill is earningall he gets. Standing for two or three hours in his place night afternight, arguing, pleading, even commanding them to be saved.

  Milton was describing the scenes of the meeting to Bradley Talcott andDouglas Radbourn the next day, and Radbourn, a young law student,said:--

  "I'd like to see him. He must be a character."

  "Let's make up a party and go out," said Milton, eagerly.

  "All right; I'll speak to Lily Graham."

  Accordingly, that evening a party of students, in a large sleigh, droveout toward the schoolhouse, along the drifted lanes and through thebeautiful aisles of the snowy woods. A merry party of young people, whohad no sense of sin to weigh them down. Even Radbourn and Lily joined inthe songs which they sang to the swift clanging of the bells, until thelights of the schoolhouse burned redly through the frosty air.

  Not a few of the older people present felt scandalized by the singingand by the dancing of the "town girls," who could not for the life ofthem take the thing seriously. The room was so little, and hot, andsmoky, and the men looked so queer in their rough coats and hairevery-which-way.

  But they took their seats demurely on the back seat, and joined in theopening songs, and listened to the halting prayers of the brethren andthe sonorous prayers of the Elder, with commendable gravity. Miss Grahamwas a devout Congregationalist, and hushed the others into gravity whentheir eyes began to dance dangerously.

  However, as Mr. Pill warmed to his work, the girls grew sober enough. Heawed them, and frightened them with the savagery of his voice andmanner. His small gray eyes were like daggers unsheathed, and his small,round head took on a cat-like ferocity, as he strode to and fro, hurlingout his warnings and commands in a hoarse howl that terrified thesinner, and drew "amens" of admiration from the saints.

  "Atavism; he has gone back to the era of the medicine man," Radbournmurmured.

  As the speaker went on, foam came upon his thin lips; his lifted handhad prophecy and threatening in it. His eyes reflected flames; his voicehad now the tone of the implacable, vindictive judge. He gloated on thepictures that his words called up. By the power of his imagination thewalls widened, the floor was no longer felt, the crowded room grew stillas death, every eye fixed on the speaker's face.

  "I tell you, you must repent or die. I can see the great judgment angelnow!" he said, stopping suddenly and pointing above the stovepipe. "Ican see him as he stands weighing your souls as a man 'ud weigh wheatand chaff. Wheat goes into the Father's garner; chaff is blown to hell'sdevouring flame! I can see him _now_! He seizes a poor, damned,struggling soul by the _neck_, he holds him over the flaming forge of_hell_ till his bones melt like wax; he shrivels like thread in theflame of a candle; he is nothing but a charred husk, and the angelflings him back into _outer darkness_; life was not in him."

  It was this astonishing figure, powerfully acted, that scared poor TomDixon into crying out for mercy. The effect upon others was painful. Tosee so great a sinner fall terror-stricken seemed like a providentialstroke of confirmatory evidence, and nearly a dozen other young peoplefell crying, whereat the old people burst out into amens of spasmodicfervor, while the preacher, the wild light still in his eyes, tore upand down, crying above the tumult:--

  "The Lord is come with _power_! His hand is visible _here_. Shout_aloud_ and spare _not_. Fall before him as _dust_ to his feet!Hypocrites, vipers, scoffers! the _lash_ o' the _Lord_ is on ye!"

  In the intense pause which followed as he waited with expectant,uplifted face--a pause so deep even the sobbing sinners held t
heirbreath--a dry, drawling, utterly matter-of-fact voice broke the intensehush.

  "S-a-y, Pill, ain't you a-bearun' down on the boys a _leetle too_ hard?"

  The preacher's extended arm fell as if life had gone out of it. His faceflushed and paled; the people laughed hysterically, some of them withthe tears of terror still on their cheeks; but Radbourn said, "Bravo,Bacon!"

  Pill recovered himself.

  "Not hard enough for _you_, neighbor Bacon."

  Bacon rose, retaining the same dry, prosaic tone:--

  "I ain't bitin' that kind of a hook, an' I ain't goin' to be _yanked_into heaven when I c'n _slide_ into hell. Waal! I must be goin'; I'vegot a new-milk's cow that needs tendin' to."

  The effect of all this was very great. From being at the very mouth ofthe furnace, quivering with fear and captive to morbid imaginings,Bacon's dry intonation brought them all back to earth again. Theyperceived something of the absurdity of the whole situation.

  Pill was beaten for the first time in his life. He had been struck belowthe belt by a good-natured giant. The best he could do, as Baconshuffled calmly out, was to stammer: "Will some one please sing?" Andwhile they sang, he stood in deep thought. Just as the last verse wasquivering into silence, the full, deep tones of Radbourn's voice roseabove the bustle of feet and clatter of seats:--

  "And all _that_ he preaches in the name of Him who came bringing peaceand good-will to men."

  Radbourn's tone had in it reproach and a noble suggestion. The peoplelooked at him curiously. The deacons nodded their heads together incounsel, and when they turned to the desk Pill was gone!

  "Gee whittaker! That was tough," said Milton to Radbourn; "knocked thewind out o' him like a cannon-ball. What'll he do now?"

  "He can't do anything but acknowledge his foolishness."

  "You no business t' come here an' 'sturb the Lord's meetin'," cried oldDaddy Brown to Radbourn. "You're a sinner and a scoffer."

  "I thought Bacon was the disturbing ele--"

  "You're just as bad!"

  "He's all _right_," said William Councill. "I've got sick, m'self, ofbein' _scared_ into religion. I never was so fooled in a man in my life.If I'd tell you what Pill said to me the other day, when we was inRobie's store, you'd fall in a fit. An' to hear him talkin' heret'night, is enough to make a horse laugh."

  "You're all in league with the devil," said the old man, wildly; and sothe battle raged on.

  Milton and Radbourn escaped from it, and got out into the clear, cold,untainted night.

  "The heat of the furnace doesn't reach as far as the horses," Radbournmoralized, as he aided in unhitching the shivering team. "In the vast,calm spaces of the stars, among the animals, such scenes as we have justseen are impossible." He lifted his hand in a lofty gesture. The lightfell on his pale face and dark eyes. The girls were a little indignantand disposed to take the preacher's part. They thought Bacon had noright to speak out that way, and Miss Graham uttered her protest, asthey whirled away on the homeward ride with pleasant jangle of bells.

  "But the secret of it all was," said Radbourn in answer, "Pill knew hewas acting a part. I don't mean that he meant to deceive, but he gotexcited, and his audience responded as an audience does to an actor ofthe first class, and he was for the time in earnest; his imagination_did_ see those horrors,--he was swept away by his own words. But whenBacon spoke, his dry tone and homely words brought everybody, preacherand all, back to the earth with a thump! Everybody saw, that afterweeping and wailing there for an hour, they'd go home, feed the calves,hang up the lantern, put out the cat, wind the clock, and go to bed. Inother words, they all came back out of their barbaric _powwow_ to theirnatural modern selves."

  This explanation had palpable truth, but Lily perceived that it hadwider application than to the meeting they had just left.

  "They'll be music around this clearing to-morrow," said Milton, with asigh; "wish I was at home this week."

  "But what'll become of Mr. Pill?"

  "Oh, he'll come out all right," Radbourn assured her, and Milton's cleartenor rang out as he drew Eileen closer to his side:--

  "O silver moon, O silver moon, You set, you set too soon-- The morrow day is far away, The night is but begun."

  IV

  The news, grotesquely exaggerated, flew about the next day, and atnight, though it was very cold and windy, the house was jammed tosuffocation. On these lonely prairies life is so devoid of anything butwork, dramatic entertainments are so few, and appetite so keen, that atemperature of twenty degrees below zero is no bar to a trip of tenmiles. The protracted meeting was the only recreation for many of them.The gossip before and after service was a delight not to be lost, andthis last sensation was dramatic enough to bring out old men and womenwho had not dared to go to church in winter for ten years.

  Long before seven o'clock, the schoolhouse blazed with light and buzzedwith curious speech. Team after team drove up to the door, and as thedrivers leaped out to receive the women, they said in low but eagertones to the bystanders:--

  "Meeting begun yet?"

  "Nope!"

  "What kind of a time y' havin' over here, any way?"

  "A mighty solumn time," somebody would reply with a low laugh.

  By seven o'clock every inch of space was occupied; the air wasfrightful. The kerosene lamps gave off gas and smoke, the huge stoveroared itself into an angry red on its jack-oak grubs, and still peoplecrowded in at the door.

  Discussion waxed hot as the stove; two or three Universalists boldlyattacked everybody who came their way. A tall man stood on a bench inthe corner, and, thumping his Bible wildly with his fist, exclaimed, atthe top of his voice:--

  "There is _no_ hell at _all_! The Bible says the _wicked_ perish_utterly_. They are _consumed_ as _ashes_ when they die. They _perish_as _dogs_!"

  "What kind o' docterin' is that?" asked a short man of Councill.

  "I d'know. It's ol' Sam Richards. Calls himself aChristian--Christadelphian 'r some new-fangled name."

  At last people began to inquire, "Well, ain't he comin'?"

  "Most time f'r the Elder to come, ain't it?"

  "Oh, I guess he's preparin' a sermon."

  John Jennings pushed anxiously to Daddy Brown.

  "Ain't the Elder comin'?"

  "I d'know. He didn't stay at my house."

  "He didn't?"

  "No. Thought he went home with you."

  "I ain't see 'im 't all. I'll ask Councill. Brother Councill, seenanything of the Elder?"

  "No. Didn't he go home with Bensen?"

  "I d'n know. I'll see."

  This was enough to start the news that "Pill had skipped."

  This the deacons denied, saying "he'd come or send word."

  Outside, on the leeward side of the house, the young men who couldn'tget in stood restlessly, now dancing a jig, now kicking their huge bootsagainst the underpinning to warm their toes. They talked spasmodicallyas they swung their arms about their chests, speaking from behind theirhuge buffalo-coat collars.

  The wind roared through the creaking oaks; the horses stirredcomplainingly, the bells on their backs crying out querulously; theheads of the fortunates inside were shadowed outside on the snow, andthe restless young men amused themselves betting on which head wasBensen and which Councill.

  At last some one pounded on the desk inside. The suffocating but livelycrowd turned with painful adjustment toward the desk, from whence DeaconBensen's high, smooth voice sounded:--

  "Brethren an' sisters, Elder Pill hain't come--and, as it's about eighto'clock, he probably won't come to-night. After the disturbances lastnight, it's--a--a--we're all the more determined to--the--a--need ofreforming grace is more felt than ever. Let us hope nothing has happenedto the Elder. I'll go see to-morrow, and if he is unable to come--I'llsee Brother Wheat, of Cresco. After prayer by Brother Jennings, we willadjourn till to-morrow night. Brother Jennings, will you lead us inprayer?" (Some one snickered.) "I hope the disgraceful--a--scenes oflast night will not be repeated.
"

  "Where's Pill?" demanded a voice in the back part of the room. "That'swhat I want to know."

  "He's a bad pill," said another, repeating a pun already old.

  "I guess so! He borrowed twenty dollars o' me last week," said the firstvoice.

  "He owes me for a pig," shouted a short man, excitedly. "I believe he'sskipped to get rid o' his debts."

  "So do I. I allus said he was a mighty queer preacher."

  "He'd bear watchin' was my idee fust time I ever see him."

  "Careful, brethren--_careful_. He may come at any minute."

  "I don't care if he does. I'd bone him f'r pay f'r that shote, preacher'r no preacher," said Bartlett, a little nervously.

  High words followed this, and there was prospect of a fight. Thepressure of the crowd, however, was so great it was well-nigh impossiblefor two belligerents to get at each other. The meeting broke up at last,and the people, chilly, soured, and disappointed at the lack ofdevelopments, went home saying Pill was _scaly_; no preacher who chawedterbacker was to be trusted, and when it was learned that the horse andbuggy he drove he owed Jennings and Bensen for, everybody said, "He's afraud."

  V

  In the meantime, Andrew Pill was undergoing the most singular and awfulmental revolution.

  When he leaped blindly into his cutter and gave his horse the rein, hewas wild with rage and shame, and a sort of fear. As he sat with benthead, he did not hear the tread of the horse, and did not see the treesglide past. The rabbit leaped away under the shadow of the thick grovesof young oaks; the owl, scared from its perch, went fluttering off intothe cold, crisp air; but he saw only the contemptuous, quizzical face ofold William Bacon--one shaggy eyebrow lifted, a smile showing throughhis shapeless beard.

  He saw the colorless, handsome face of Radbourn, and his look ofreproach and note of suggestion--Radbourn, one of the best thinkers inRock River, and the most generally admired young man in Rock County.

  When he saw and heard Bacon, his hurt pride flamed up in wrath, but thecalm voice of Radbourn, and the look in his stern, accusing eyes, madehis head fall in thought. As he rode, things grew clearer. As a matterof fact, his whole system of religious thought was like the side of ashelving sand-bank--in unstable equilibrium--needing only a touch tosend it slipping into a shapeless pile at the river's edge. That touchhad been given, and he was now in the midst of the motion of his fallingfaith. He didn't know how much would stand when the sloughing ended.

  Andrew Pill had been a variety of things, a farmer, a dry-goodsmerchant, and a travelling salesman, but in a revival quite like this ofhis own, he had been converted and his life changed. He now desired tohelp his fellow-men to a better life, and willingly went out among thefarmers, where pay was small. It was not true, therefore, that he hadgone into it because there was little work and good pay. He was reallyan able man, and would have been a success in almost anything heundertook; but his reading and thought, his easy intercourse with menlike Bacon and Radbourn, had long since undermined any real faith in thecurrent doctrine of retribution, and to-night, as he rode into thenight, he was feeling it all and suffering it all, forced to acknowledgeat last what had been long moving.

  The horse took the wrong road, and plodded along steadily, carrying himaway from his home, but he did not know it for a long time. When at lasthe looked up and saw the road leading out upon the wide plain betweenthe belts of timber, leading away to Rock River, he gave a sigh ofrelief. He could not meet his wife then; he must have a chance to think.

  Over him, the glittering, infinite sky of winter midnight soared,passionless, yet accusing in its calmness, sweetness, and majesty. Whatwas he that he could dogmatize on eternal life and the will of the Beingwho stood behind that veil? And then would come rushing back that scenein the schoolhouse, the smell of the steaming garments, the gases fromthe lamps, the roar of the stove, the sound of his own voice, strident,dominating, so alien to his present mood, he could only shudder at it.

  He was worn out with thinking when he drove into the stable at theMerchants' House and roused up the sleeping hostler, who looked at himsuspiciously and demanded pay in advance. This seemed right in hispresent mood. He was not to be trusted.

  When he flung himself face downward on his bed, the turmoil in his brainwas still going on. He couldn't hold one thought or feeling long; allseemed slipping like water from his hands.

  He had in him great capacity for change, for growth. Circumstances hadbeen against his development thus far, but the time had come when growthseemed to be defeat and failure.

  VI

  Radbourn was thinking about him, two days after, as he sat in his friendJudge Brown's law office, poring over a volume of law. He saw thatBacon's treatment had been heroic; he couldn't get the pitiful confusionof the preacher's face out of his mind. But, after all, Bacon's seizingof just that instant was a stroke of genius.

  Some one touched him on the arm and he turned.

  "Why--Elder--Mr. Pill, how de do? Sit down. Draw up a chair."

  There was trouble in the preacher's face. "Can I see you, Radbourn,alone?"

  "Certainly; come right into this room. No one will disturb us there."

  "Now, what can I do for you?" he said, as they sat down.

  "I want to talk to you about--about religion," said Pill, with a littletimid pause in his voice.

  Radbourn looked grave. "I'm afraid you've come to a dangerous man."

  "I want you to tell me what you think. I know you're a student. I wantto talk about my case," pursued the preacher, with a curious hesitancy."I want to ask a few questions on things."

  "Very well; sail in. I'll do the best I can," said Radbourn.

  "I've been thinking a good deal since that night. I've come to theconclusion that I don't believe what I've been preaching. I thought Idid, but I didn't. I don't know _what_ I believe. Seems as if the landhad slid from under my feet. What am I to do?"

  "Say so," replied Radbourn, his eyes kindling. "Say so, and get out ofit. There's nothing worse than staying where you are. What have yousaved from the general land-slide?"

  Pill smiled a little. "I don't know."

  "Want me to cross-examine you and see, eh? Very well, here goes." Hesettled back with a smile. "You believe in square dealing between manand man?"

  "Certainly."

  "You believe in good deeds, candor, and steadfastness?"

  "I do."

  "You believe in justice, equality of opportunity, and in liberty?"

  "Certainly I do."

  "You believe, in short, that a man should do unto others as he'd haveothers do unto him; think right and live out his thoughts?"

  "All that I steadfastly believe."

  "Well, I guess your land-slide was mostly imaginary. The face of theeternal rock is laid bare. You didn't recognize it at first, that's all.One question more. You believe in getting at truth?"

  "Certainly."

  "Well, truth is only found from the generalizations of facts. Beforecalling a thing true, study carefully all accessible facts. Make yourreligion practical. The matter-of-fact tone of Bacon would have had noforce if you had been preaching an earnest morality in place of anantiquated terrorism."

  "I know it, I know it," sighed Pill, looking down.

  "Well, now go back and tell 'em so. And then, if you can't keep yourplace preaching what you do believe, get into something else. For thesake of all morality and manhood, don't go on cursing yourself withhypocrisy."

  Mr. Pill took a chew of tobacco rather distractedly, and said:--

  "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

  "No, not now. You think out your present position yourself. Find outjust what you have saved from your land-slide."

  The elder man rose; he hardly seemed the same man who had dominated hispeople a few days before. He turned with still greater embarrassment.

  "I want to ask a favor. I'm going back to my family. I'm going to saysomething of what you've said, to my congregation--but--I'm in debt--andthe moment they know I'm
a backslider, they're going to bear down on mepretty heavy. I'd like to be independent."

  "I see. How much do you need?" mused Radbourn.

  "I guess two hundred would stave off the worst of them."

  "I guess Brown and I can fix that. Come in again to-night. Or no, I'llbring it round to you."

  The two men parted with a silent pressure of the hand that meant morethan any words.

  When Mr. Pill told his wife that he could preach no more, she cried, andgasped, and scolded till she was in danger of losing her breathentirely. "A guinea-hen sort of a woman" Councill called her. "She cantalk more an' say less 'n any woman I ever see," was Bacon's verdict,after she had been at dinner at his house. She was a perpetual irritant.

  Mr. Pill silenced her at last with a note of impatience approaching athreat, and drove away to the Corners to make his confession withouther. It was Saturday night, and Elder Wheat was preaching as he enteredthe crowded room. A buzz and mumble of surprise stopped the orator for afew moments, and he shook hands with Mr. Pill dubiously, not knowingwhat to think of it all, but as he was in the midst of a very effectiveoratorical scene, he went on.

  The silent man at his side felt as if he were witnessing a burlesque ofhimself as he listened to the pitiless and lurid description of tormentwhich Elder Wheat poured forth,--the same figures and threats he hadused a hundred times. He stirred uneasily in his seat, while theaudience paid so little attention that the perspiring little oratorfinally called for a hymn, saying:--

  "Elder Pill has returned from his unexpected absence, and will exhort inhis proper place."

  When the singing ended, Mr. Pill rose, looking more like himself thansince the previous Sunday. A quiet resolution was in his eyes and voiceas he said:--

  "Elder Wheat has more right here than I have. I want 'o say that I'mgoing to give up my church in Douglass and--" A murmur broke out, whichhe silenced with his raised hand. "I find I don't believe any longerwhat I've been believing and preaching. Hold on! let me go on. I don'tquite know where I'll bring up, but I think my religion will simmer downfinally to about this: A full half-bushel to the half-bushel and sixteenounces to the pound." Here two or three cheered. "Do unto others asyou'd have others do unto you." Applause from several, quicklysuppressed as the speaker went on, Elder Wheat listening as ifpetrified, with his mouth open.

  "I'm going out of preaching, at least for the present. After things getinto shape with me again, I may set up to teach people how to live, butjust now I can't do it. I've got all I can do to instruct myself. Justone thing more. I owe two or three of you here. I've got the money forWilliam Bacon, James Bartlett, and John Jennings. I turn the mare andcutter over to Jacob Bensen, for the note he holds. I hain't got muchreligion left, but I've got some morality. That's all I want to saynow."

  When he sat down there was a profound hush; then Bacon arose.

  "That's _man's_ talk, that is! An' I jest want 'o say, Andrew Pill, thatyou kin jest forgit you owe me anything. An' if ye want any help come tome. Y're jest gittun' ready to preach, 'n' I'm ready to give ye mysupport."

  "That's the talk," said Councill. "I'm with ye on that."

  Pill shook his head. The painful silence which followed was broken bythe effusive voice of Wheat:--

  "Let us pray--and remember our lost brother."

  * * * * *

  The urgings of the people were of no avail. Mr. Pill settled up hisaffairs and moved to Cresco, where he went back into trade with afriend, and for three years attended silently to his customers, liveddown their curiosity, and studied anew the problem of life. Then hemoved away, and no one knew whither.

  One day last year Bacon met Jennings on the road.

  "Heerd anything o' Pill lately?"

  "No, have you?"

  "Waal, yes. Brown told me he ran acrost him down in Eelinoy, doun' well,too."

  "In dry goods?"

  "No, preachun'."

  "Preachun'?"

  "So Brown said. Kind of a free-f'r-all church, I reckon, from what Jedgetold me. Built a new church; fills it twice a Sunday. I'd like to hearhim, but he's got t' be too big a gun f'r us. Ben studyun', they say;went t' school."

  Jennings drove sadly and thoughtfully on.

  "Rather stumps Brother Jennings," laughed Bacon, in a good-humoredgrowl.