"Lordy! but that wur justabout präaper!" cried Pete, bustling up, and sorry that the tramp showed no signs of getting on to his feet. "It's settled him anyhow," said the man in black. They both stooped and eyed him critically. "You've landed him in a good pläace," said Pete; "a little farther back and he'd have been gone." "Praise be to God that his life was spared." Pete looked in some surprise at the bruiser, who continued: "I'm out of practice, or I shouldn't have skinned myself like this--ah, here's Coalbran's trap. Perhaps he'll give you a lift, ma'am, into Peasmarsh." The woman was helped into the trap, and after some discussion it was decided not to give themselves the trouble of taking the tramp to the police station, but to pull him to the side of the road and leave him to the consequences he had brought upon himself. "He's had some punishment," said Pete when they were alone. He inspected the tramp, now feebly moaning, with the air of a connoisseur. "I'm hemmed if I ever saw a purtier knock-out." "I'm out of training, as I told you," said the stranger. "Then you must have bin a valiant basher in your day. It's a pity you let yourself go slack." "It was not becoming that I should use my fists, except to defend the weak. I am a minister of the Lord." "A parson!" cried Pete. "A minister of the Lord," repeated with some severity the man in black, "of the brotherhood named Ebenezer." Pete remembered hearing that a new parson was coming to the local Methodists, but nothing had led him to expect such thrilling developments. "I used to be in the fancy," said the minister, "but five years ago the Lord challenged me, and knocked me out in the first round." Pete was following a train of thought. "Is a minister the same as a parson?" he asked at length. "Is a priest of Jehovah the same as a priest of Baal? For shame, young man!" "I mean can a minister do wot a Parson does?--tell a poor feller wot's dying that he wöan't go to hell." "Not if he's washed in the blood of the Lamb." "That's wot I mean, surelye. Could you come and talk to a sick man about all that sort of thing?" A gleam came into the minister's eyes, very much the same as when he had knocked out the tramp. "Reckon I could!" he cried fierily. "Reckon I can snatch a brand from the burning, reckon I can find the lost piece of silver; reckon I can save the wandering sheep, and wash it in the blood of the Lamb." "Same as a parson?" enquired Pete anxiously. "Better than any mitred priest of Ammon, for I shall not vex the sinner's soul with dead works, but wash it in the crimson fountain. You trust your sick man to me, young feller--I'll wash him in blood, I'll clothe him in righteousness, I'll feed him with salvation." "I'll justabout täake you to him, then. He asked fur a 'stablished parson, but I'd sooner far bring you, for, Lordy, if you äun't the präaperest bruiser I've ever set eyes on." § 13.