And thousands came. He cured the incurable, and consoled the inconsolable. Once he was shut up in a mad-house, but emerged more popular than ever. Then he went on a pilgrimage through the towns of Mexico, preaching his "Father's" word among the adulterers of goods and the Worshippers of the Golden Calf. An object of reverence and admiration, he blessed the children and rained miracles upon the heads of the sick, finally arriving at San Francisco in 1894. From there, still on foot and bare-headed, he crossed the Mohave Desert, spent several weeks at Flagstaff, and then continued his wanderings among the Indian tribes. They recognised his saintliness and came out in crowds to meet him, amazed at the power of the Lord as manifested by him. He spent five days in the company of the chief of the Navajos, performing many miracles, and filling with wonder the simple souls who crowded round to touch his hands. After having traversed several other districts, he stopped at Denver, which became his favourite residence. In this paradise of the New World his most startling miracles took place. It became known as his special town, and from all parts there flocked to it believers and unbelievers, good, bad and indifferent, attracted by the fame of the heavenly messenger. Women and men followed in his train, expressing their admiration and gratitude; even the reporters who came to interview him were impressed by his simplicity, and described in glowing terms the miracles accomplished by the "prophet of Denver." The American journals which thus put themselves at his service throw a strange light upon this twentieth-century saint. For Schlatter the Silent, as some called him, only became eloquent when in the presence of newspaper reporters. He took heed to "sin not with his tongue," as the psalmist sings, and "kept his mouth with a bridle" and "held his peace," as long as "the wicked" were before him; but when confronted by reporters his thoughts became articulate, and it is only through them that his simple "Gospel" has been handed down to us. "I am nothing," he would say to them. "My Father is all. Have faith in Him, and all will be well." Or--"My Father can replace a pair of diseased lungs as easily as He can cure rheumatism. He has only to will, and the sick man becomes well or the healthy one ill. You ask me in what does my power consist. It is nothing--it is His will that is everything." One day when a crowd of several thousands was pressing round him, Schlatter addressed a man in his vicinity. "Depart!" he said to him, with a violence that startled all who heard. "Depart from Denver; you are a murderer!" The man fled, and the crowd applauded the "saint," remarking that "it was not in his power to heal the wicked."