"I hadn't thought of that," said Douglas. He rested his chin on his palm and eyed the glowing stove thoughtfully. "I guess you are right," finally; "nothing makes Lost Chief folks so mad as to have some one hint they aren't perfect." Then he chuckled. "It'll be a real man's fight. I wonder what Jude will say! Are you afraid, Mr. Fowler?" "Afraid? Yes! I'm not as young as I was once and I am not over-anxious for such a struggle. But this thing isn't in my hands. If ever the Almighty showed Himself a directing force, He is showing it here. This is what He ordained from the day you drove me out of the schoolhouse. Do you remember what I said to you?" "You quoted the Bible, I think. I don't remember what it was." "I said, 'Ye shall find no place to repent you, though ye seek for it with tears.'" Douglas murmured the words over to himself. His face worked a little. "It's true! It's the living truth!" he exclaimed unevenly. "Not that I've got anything to repent--" he hesitated. "What is repentance? What is life? Where is God, if there is a God? What does it all mean, anyhow?" The preacher said slowly, "'There is a Divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them as we will.' That's what it all means. When shall you be ready for me, Douglas?" "I think the fall would be best. Suppose we say right after the round-up. I'll look for you on the twentieth of September." "That will suit me. I can then give my boss ample notice." "What pay will you want, Mr. Fowler?" "Just enough to feed and clothe me. We'll arrange that after we get a church established." Douglas rose with a broad grin. "I sure-gawd have let myself in for something now," he said. "But I'll take care of you, Mr. Fowler." "All right, young Moses," returned the preacher, smiling into Doug's eager face. "Good-night." Charleton was still sound asleep when Douglas at dawn lay down beside him and slipped into dreamless slumber. CHAPTER XI THE LOG CHAPEL "Don't take any responsibility that you don't have to. That's my idea of a happy life." --_Young Jeff_ By eight o'clock the next morning they had broken camp and had started homeward, with their kicking, squealing herd of wild horses. The little black mare alone led docilely. It was a difficult trip back to the valley and Douglas was grateful for this, for it kept Charleton from airing the cynical comments Douglas knew he was evolving in regard to the preacher. And Douglas was filled with a new purposefulness that was almost happiness. He did not want Charleton to obtrude himself upon this new-found content. They reached Lost Chief late one afternoon and Douglas found himself and the trembling mare at home in time for supper. The family came out to the corral to examine the prize. "She's got some mighty good points," said John; "but I doubt if you'll ever be able to do anything with her. She's wild. And she'll die of homesickness for the range. Once in a while you see 'em like that."