“They say money's a cuss an' the root of all evil,” he said, dryly. “But in this case it's give Pole Baker thar a chance to show what's in 'im. I'd 'a' give the last cent I have to 'a' done what he did to-day. I grant you he used deception, but it was the fust-water sort that that Bible king resorted to when he made out he was goin' to divide that baby by cuttin' it in halves. He fetched out the good an' squelched the bad.” Abner glanced at Pole, and gave one of his impulsive inward laughs. “My boy, when I reach t'other shore I expect to see whole strings o' sech law-breakers as you a-playin' leap-frog on the golden sands. You don't sing an' pray a whole lot, nur keep yore religion in sight, but when thar's work to be done you shuck off yore shirt an' do it like a wild-cat a-scratchin'.” No one spoke after this outburst for several minutes, though the glances cast in his direction showed the embarrassed ex-moonshiner that one and all had sanctioned Abner Daniel's opinion. Bishop leaned forward and looked at the clock, and seeing that it was nine, he put the money in a bureau-drawer and turned the key. Then he took down the big family Bible from its shelf and sat down near the lamp. They all knew what the action portended. “That's another thing,” smiled Abner Daniel, while his brother-in-law was searching for his place in the big Book. “Money may be a bad thing, a cuss an' a evil, an' what not, but Alf 'ain't felt like holdin' prayer sence the bad news come; an' now that he's got the scads once more the fust thing is an appeal to the Throne. Yes, it may be a bad thing, but sometimes it sets folks to singin' an' shoutin'. Ef I was a-runnin' of the universe, I believe I'd do a lots o' distributin' in low places. I'd scrape off a good many tops an' level up more. Accordin' to some, the Lord's busy watchin' birds fall to the ground. I reckon our hard times is due to them pesky English sparrows that's overrun ever'thing.” “You'd better dry up, Uncle Ab,” said Pole Baker. “That's the kind o' talk that made brother Dole jump on you.” “Huh! That's a fact,” said Daniel; “but this is in the family.” Then Bishop began to read in his even, declamatory voice, and all the others looked steadily at the fire in the chimney, their faces lighted up by the flickering flames. When they had risen from their knees after prayer, Pole looked at Abner with eyes from which shot beams of amusement. He seemed to enjoy nothing so much as hearing Abner's religious opinions. “You say this thing has set Mr. Bishop to prayin', Uncle Ab?” he asked. “That's what,” smiled Abner, who had never admired Baker so much before. “Ef I stay heer, an' they ever git that railroad through, I'm goin' to have me a pair o' knee-pads made.” XXVIII [Illustration: 9247] BOUT a week after the events recorded in the preceding chapter, old man Bishop, just at dusk one evening, rode up to Pole Baker's humble domicile.