He told us about the fisher folks an’ how they lived out doors under the stars the same as we did; and that this was probably why the Lord had chose ’em first to follow him. He said that city folks got to relyin’ on themselves so much ’at they was likely to forget that the whole earth was still held in the hollow of the hand which had created it; but that men who lived with nature, out under the sun and the stars, through the heat and the cold, the wind and the rain, the chinook and the blizzard, felt the forces and the mysteries all about them and this kept ’em in touch, even when they didn’t know it themselves, with the great central Intelligence back o’ these forces and mysteries. Then he told ’em how grand their lives might be if they would only give up their nasty little habits of thought, and learn to think broad and free and deep, the same as they breathed. He told ’em ’at their minds could breathe the inspiration of God as easy as their lungs could breathe the pure air o’ the mountains, if they’d only form the habit. Then he talked to ’em friendly an’ confidential about their natural devilment. He didn’t talk like a saint speakin’ out through a crack in the gates o’ Paradise, like most preachers do. He called the turn on the actual way they cut up when they went to town, and just how it hurt ’em body an’ soul; and his face grew set and earnest, and his eyes blazed; and then he said a few words about mothers an’ children and such, and wound up with a short prayer. Well two o’ those fellers owned up right out in public and said that from that on they was goin’ to lead a decent sort of life; and one other said ’at he didn’t have any faith in himself any longer; but he insisted on signin’ the pledge, and said if that worked, why, he’d go on an’ try the rest of it. The preacher shook hands with ’em all around—he had a grip ’at wouldn’t be no disgrace for a silver-tip—an’ then he sez that if any of ’em has the notion that bein’ a Christian makes a weakling of a man, why, he’s willin’ to wrastle or box or run a race or shoot at a mark or do any other sort of a stunt to show ’at he’s in good order; but they size him up and take his word for it. “Now, boys,” sez he, “I hope we’ll meet often. I’m your friend, and I want you to use me any time you get a chance. Any time or any place that I can serve one of you, just get me word and I’ll do the best I can. It don’t matter what sort o’ trouble you get into, get me word and I’ll help—if I can find a way. And I wish ’at you’d speak it around that I’m hard on hosses, so that the other fellows will understand when I pick one up, and not cause any delay. I’ll have to hurry along now. Good-bye; I’m sorry I’ve been a bother to ya.”