By dawn the next morning Douglas was half-way up the trail to the Pass. He did not know at what hour the preacher would arrive, but he did not propose that the old man should enter Lost Chief without his protection. When he reached the crest, he unsaddled the Moose and settled himself against a gigantic jade rock beside the trail and prepared to wait patiently. The sun lifted slowly over the unspeakable glory of the ranges and poured its glory down upon the Pass, then swung westward, leaving a chill shadow beside the rock where Douglas was camping. It was mid-afternoon when the stage came through from the half-way house. Old Johnny Brown was driving. As he pulled up the horses for a rest, he saw Douglas and smiled delightedly. "Waiting for me, Douglas?" Douglas shook his head. "I came up to meet a friend, Johnny." The little old man stared at Douglas; then he said fretfully, "I don't see why Grandma Brown had to go and make me drive the gregus old stage for a week. I deponed to her that I had to get up there and take care of you. When that preacher comes, you'll need me, Doug. There's lots of trouble brewing, boy." "What kind, Johnny?" "They always shut up and look rejus when I come round. But I know enough to sabez that bunch even if I am a half-wit." "I'm not so sure you are a half-wit, Johnny," said Douglas sincerely. The old man's face brightened. "That's just the way I feel about it too, Douglas. You're the only person in the Valley understands me. You could have my shirt, Doug." Douglas nodded. "You get through with the stage as soon as you can, Johnny. Tell Grandma I expect you on Monday." Johnny clucked firmly at his team. "I'll be there. Nothing can't propone me," and he was gone in a cloud of dust. It was an hour later that the preacher rounded the curve to the crest. Douglas threw the saddle on the Moose and Fowler pulled up his bony blue roan in surprise. He was thinner and grayer than ever and his blue jumper was patched with pieces of burlap. But his eyes were bright as he shook hands with Douglas. "I'm the Committee on Welcome!" said the young rider. "How long have you been waiting for me, Douglas?" asked Fowler. "Since daybreak. I couldn't be sure when you'd come. And I didn't want you to come into Lost Chief alone." "Are you expecting trouble immediately?" asked the preacher. "Well," replied Douglas frankly, "the folks are just about as enthusiastic as if I were bringing a Mormon into the Valley. And I just don't aim to give them a chance to start anything till we get a little bit settled." The old man's jaw set, under his beard. "Humph! They'll find the Lord and me both ready for them. I have an idea they are going to be surprised before they are through with this."