"Excuse this interruption," said Pike, as the minister's voice quavered off into silence, "but I notice a number of soldierly-looking men here and I will take it as a great favor if they will hold their hands as high above their heads as possible and come down here and have a talk with me." As this simple request was accompanied by a revolver aimed at the audience, one by one six soldiers who had been attending the service came sheepishly down the aisle. They looked so funny straining their arms over their heads that some of the girls in the audience unkindly burst out laughing. Pike removed a revolver from each one and dumped his captured arms into one of his saddle-bags. "Now, parson," he said, "I want to hear a good, fervent prayer from you for the President of the United States." The minister hesitated. "Quick and loud," said Pike, "because I'm going in a minute." There was no help for it and the minister prayed for President Lincoln by name, while Pike reverently removed his cap. Then backing his horse out of the door, he started on toward Decatur. Not a half mile from the church he met two Confederate soldiers who were leisurely riding to the church. There was no reason at all why the corporal should meddle with these men. They were two to one and he had no way of disposing of them even if he made them captives. However, the sight of the Confederate parson praying for Abe Lincoln had tickled Pike and he made up his mind to have some fun with these soldiers. As he came abreast of them he whipped out his revolver, ordered them to halt and to give their names, regiments and companies. They did so with great alacrity. "Well, gentlemen," he said, "you are my prisoners and I am very sorry for I am so far outside of my lines that I am afraid there is only one way to safely dispose of you." "Great heavens, man," said one, "you don't mean to shoot us down." "I'm sorry," said Pike, "but you can see for yourself that that's the only thing to do. You are Rebel soldiers and to leave you alive would mean that you will keep on doing harm to the Union forces." "Don't shoot, captain," both of them chorused; "we'll take the oath of allegiance." Pike seemed to hesitate. "Well," he said finally, "I hate to kill men on Sunday. I suppose I ought not to do this, but if you'll solemnly swear allegiance to the United States of America and that you'll never hereafter serve against the Union or be late to church again, I'll let you go." With much solemnity, the Confederates took the oath in the form dictated, delivered up their revolvers and rode away.