For a time they walked on in silence. Dokesbury had to calm the tempest in his breast before he could trust his voice. After a while he said: "That fellow was making it pretty hot for you, my young friend. What had you done to him?" "Nothin'," replied the other. "I was jes' dancin' 'long an' not thinkin' 'bout him, when all of a sudden he hollered dat I had his gal an' commenced hittin' me." "He's a bully and a coward, or he would not have made use of his superior strength in that way. What's your name, friend?" "'Lias Gray," was the answer, which startled the minister into exclaiming,-- "What! are you Aunt Caroline's son?" "Yes, suh, I sho is; does you know my mothah?" "Why, I'm stopping with her, and we were talking about you last night. My name is Dokesbury, and I am to take charge of the church here." "I thought mebbe you was a preachah, but I couldn't scarcely believe it after I seen de way you held Sam an' looked at him." Dokesbury laughed, and his merriment seemed to make his companion feel better, for the sullen, abashed look left his face, and he laughed a little himself as he said: "I wasn't a-pesterin' Sam, but I tell you he pestered me mighty." Dokesbury looked into the boy's face,--he was hardly more than a boy,--lit up as it was by a smile, and concluded that Aunt Caroline was right. 'Lias might be "ca'less," but he wasn't a bad boy. The face was too open and the eyes too honest for that. 'Lias wasn't bad; but environment does so much, and he would be if something were not done for him. Here, then, was work for a pastor's hands. "You'll walk on home with me, 'Lias, won't you?" "I reckon I mout ez well," replied the boy. "I don't stay erroun' home ez much ez I oughter." "You'll be around more, of course, now that I am there. It will be so much less lonesome for two young people than for one. Then, you can be a great help to me, too." The preacher did not look down to see how wide his listener's eyes grew as he answered: "Oh, I ain't fittin' to be no he'p to you, suh. Fust thing, I ain't nevah got religion, an' then I ain't well larned enough." "Oh, there are a thousand other ways in which you can help, and I feel sure that you will." "Of co'se, I'll do de ve'y bes' I kin." "There is one thing I want you to do soon, as a favor to me." "I can't go to de mou'nah's bench," cried the boy, in consternation. "And I don't want you to," was the calm reply. Another look of wide-eyed astonishment took in the preacher's face. These were strange words from one of his guild. But without noticing the surprise he had created, Dokesbury went on: "What I want is that you will take me fishing as soon as you can. I never get tired of fishing and I am anxious to go here. Tom Scott says you fish a great deal about here." "Why, we kin go dis ve'y afternoon," exclaimed 'Lias, in relief and delight; "I's mighty fond o' fishin', myse'f." "All right; I'm in your hands from now on."