The boys looked at each other inquiringly; men from every calling used to go to the mines, and no one would have been surprised if a backsliding priest, or even bishop, had stepped to the front. But none appeared, and the wounded man, after looking despairingly from one to another, gave a smothered cry. “Oh, God, hez a miserable wretch got to cut hisself open, and then flicker out, without anybody to say a prayer for him?” The boys looked sorrowful—if gold-dust could have bought prayers, Billy would have had a first-class assortment in an instant. “There’s Deacon Adams over to Pattin’s,” suggested a bystander; “an’ they do say he’s a reg’lar rip-roarer at prayin’! But ’twould take four hours to go and fetch him.” “Too long,” said the Doctor. “Down in Mexico, at the cathedral,” said another, “they pray for a feller after he’s dead, when yer pay ’em fur it, an’ they say it’s jist the thing—sure pop. I’ll give yer my word, Billy, an’ no go back, that I’ll see the job done up in style fur yer, ef that’s any comfort.” “I want to hear it myself,” groaned the sufferer; “I don’t feel right; can’t nobody pray—nobody in the crowd?” Again the boys looked inquiringly at each other, but this time it was a little shyly. If he had asked for some one to go out and steal a mule, or kill a bear, or gallop a buck-jumping mustang to ’Frisco, they would have fought for the chance; but praying—praying was entirely out of their line. The silence became painful: soon slouched hats were hauled down over moist eyes, and shirt-sleeves and bare arms seemed to find something unusual to attend to in the boys’ faces. Big Brooks commenced to blubber aloud, and was led out by old Thompson, who wanted a chance to get out of doors so he might break down in private. Finally matters were brought to a crisis by Mose—no one knew his other name. Mose uncovered a sandy head, face and beard, and remarked: “I don’t want to put on airs in this here crowd, but ef nobody else ken say a word to the Lord about Billy Bent, I’m a-goin’ to do it myself. It’s a bizness I’ve never bin in, but ther’s nothin’ like tryin’. This meetin’ ’ll cum to order to wunst.” “Hats off in church, gentlemen!” commanded Pentecost. Off came every hat, and some of the boys knelt down, as Mose knelt beside the bench, and said: “Oh, Lord, here’s Billy Bent needs ‘tendin’ to! He’s panned out his last dust, an’ he seems to hev a purty clear idee that this is his last chance. He wants you to give him a lift, Lord, an’ it’s the opinion of this house thet he needs it. ‘Tain’t none of our bizness what he’s done, an’ ef it wuz, you’d know more about it than we cud tell yer; but it’s mighty sartin that a cuss that’s been in the diggins fur years needs a sight of mendin’ up before he kicks the bucket.” “That’s so,” responded two or three, very emphatically.