Other teams were on the road, some returning, some going. A camp-meeting had come to be an annual amusement, like a circus, and young people from all over the country drove down on Sundays, as if to some celebration with fireworks. "There's the lane," said Milton. "See that team goin' in?" Ben pulled up and they looked at it doubtfully. It looked dangerously miry. It was quite dark now and Ben said:-- "That's a scaly piece of road." "Oh, that's all right. Hark!" As they listened they could hear the voice of the exhorter nearly a mile away. It pushed across the cool spaces with a wild and savage sound. The young people thrilled with excitement. Insects were singing in the grass. Frogs with deepening chorus seemed to announce the coming of night, and above these peaceful sounds came the wild shouts of the far-off preacher, echoing through the cool green arches of the splendid grove. The girls became silent, as the voice grew louder. Lights appeared ahead, and the road led up a slight hill to a gate. Ben drove on under a grove of oaks, past dimly lighted tents, whose open flaps showed tumbled beds and tables laden with crockery. Heavy women were moving about inside, their shadows showing against the tent walls like figures in a pantomime. The young people alighted in curious silence. As they stood a moment, tying the team, the preacher lifted his voice in a brazen, clanging, monotonous reiteration of worn phrases. "Come to the _Lord_! Come _now_! Come to the _light_! Jesus will give it! _Now_ is the appointed time,--come to the _light_!" From a tent near by arose the groaning, gasping, gurgling scream of a woman in mortal agony. "O my God!" It was charged with the most piercing distress. It cut to the heart's palpitating centre like a poniard thrust. It had murder and outrage in it. The girls clutched Ben and Milton. "Oh, let's go home!" "No, let's go and see what it all is." The girls hung close to the arms of the young men and they went down to the tent and looked in. It was filled with a motley throng of people, most of them seated on circling benches. A fringe of careless or scoffing onlookers stood back against the tent wall. Many of them were strangers to Ben. Occasionally a Norwegian farm-hand, or a bevy of young people from some near district, lifted the flap and entered with curious or laughing or insolent faces. The tent was lighted dimly by kerosene lamps, hung in brackets against the poles, and by stable lanterns set here and there upon the benches. Ben and Milton ushered the girls in and seated them a little way back. The girls smiled, but only faintly. The undertone of women's cries moved them in spite of their scorn of it all. "What cursed foolishness!" said Ben to Milton. Milton smiled, but did not reply. He only nodded toward the exhorter, a man with a puffy jumble of features and the form of a gladiator, who was uttering wild and explosive phrases.