But the preacher did not mean to dwell long this evening on the celestial sphere. He was concerned with showing his hearers the terrors of the underworld. In a few moments he depicted them as standing in the lake of fire and brimstone, burning, burning, not for a day but forever and ever. The flames seemed to leap up as the minister shouted: “And the devil will reach out for you, ye generation of vipers, he’ll reach out for you across the flames, and he’ll catch you and draw you into the burning lake.” “Lord save us!” “Please have mercy, Jesus,” came from the moaning crowd. Hazel was aghast. “Come to the Lord and be saved,” cried the preacher. “Be saved by the blood of the Lamb!” A change came over the congregation. The moaning ceased. From different parts of the room arose calls of “Yes, Jesus,” “I’s coming, Lord.” Women began to sway back and forth, crying loudly for salvation. Hazel looked at Granny. The old woman had forgotten her. “The devil shan’t get us in the burning pit,” shouted the preacher. “No, Lord,” said Granny. “Lord save us,” shouted old man Lee in front. Hazel grew frightened. She felt suffocated and wanted to get away. Glancing at Scipio she saw that he sat as stolid as ever, unmoved apparently by all that was going on about him. “Scip,” she whispered, “I want to get out.” He looked at her frightened face, and, taking her hand, butted with his head until he had made a way through the crowd of people standing between them and the open door. Then they passed out into the night. The little moon was setting behind the trees. The air was fresh and cool, but not chill. Above were the peaceful stars. “The heathen are burning,” shouted the preacher, “and every day the devil pours on fresh oil and the flames mount higher and higher to the sky.” “Scip,” said Hazel with a quick breath, “do you believe in hell?” “Yes, ma’am,” said Scipio. “You don’t believe what he is saying? You don’t believe God will put us in fire to burn forever and ever?” “I seen a lynching once,” Scipio replied. “It were just like that, they poured on oil.” “Oh, don’t,” Hazel gasped. She seized his arm with her two hands; “don’t,” she cried. After a moment she whispered, “But it didn’t last forever. He died?” “Yes, ma’am. He died.” “And wicked men burned him, and it was only for a few minutes. God wouldn’t make him burn forever and ever.” “Don’t you fret,” said Scipio. She had let go of his arm, but he knew that she was trembling. “They-all is sure they’ll get off. They’s sure the devil won’t catch them. There’s my pa, he ain’t done a stroke of work this week. Been crazy drunk. But he’s got religion. Hear him holler!” “I don’t believe it’s like that, Scip,” Hazel said very earnestly. “Religion is being good and honest and pure in heart.” A man approached the children as they stood a little apart from the throng about the door. “Howdy, little ’un,” he leered, lounging up to Hazel. “You’s a pretty trick.” Hazel caught Scipio by the hand.