But long after Charleton had crawled in beside him, Doug lay awake thinking of Judith and of the preacher. He wondered what influence a man like Fowler would have on a girl like Judith. He wondered if Judith would come out with him to call on the preacher. He thought it highly improbable. And then he thought of Peter and what Peter might have said that day had he and not Charleton interrupted Doug and the preacher. For the thousandth time, he thought of Peter's love for his mother and he wondered how his mother had kept herself fine as Peter said she had. Perhaps she had had some sort of religious faith. "I wish Grandfather Douglas had put the church up with the schoolhouse," he said to himself. "Maybe it would have saved Judith as well as Scott Parsons." Then he gasped. An idea of overwhelming importance had come to him. He lay for an instant contemplating it, then he crept from the bunk and the sheep wagon into the open. It was a frosty, star-lit night. The river rushed like black oil, silver cakes of ice grinding above the roar of the current. The Moose was munching on a wisp of alfalfa. Douglas saddled him and led him softly out of hearing of the wagon, then sprang upon his back and put him to the canter. Two hours later, Douglas was banging on the door frame of Fowler's sheep-wagon. "It's just me, Douglas Spencer," he replied to the preacher's startled query. "I had to come over to ask you something." A light flashed through the canvas. Then the door opened. "Come in! Come in! Light the fire while I pull my boots on. This is like the days when I was saving souls and marrying couples." Douglas quickly had a fire blazing and pulled the coffee-pot forward. He pushed his hat back on his head and the candle-light threw into sharp relief the firm set of his lips. His six-shooter banged on the bench as he sat down and put one spurred boot on the hearth. The preacher perched blinking on the edge of the bunk. Through the canvas came the endless restless movement of myriad sheep. "Mr. Fowler," said Douglas, "I own some land that came to me from my mother when I was twenty-one. If I build you a little church on it, will you come to Lost Chief and live there and preach? I'll be responsible for your wages." Fowler's face was inscrutable. "Why do you want me to come, Douglas?" For the first time, Doug's voice thickened. "I want you to help Lost Chief and to save Judith." "Tell me about Judith."