I wait for a time, and the tallest policeman comes out and goes off. Soon after the burly attacker comes with his parcel and hurries up the street as if to make up lost time. After an interval the little preacher comes himself, alone and somewhat put to rights; goes quietly back around the corner, past the hospital and medical school and the park and on toward the corner where he was taken. But he seems to consider his work for the night done, and does not stop. He picks his way across the street of business and starts off northward as if beginning a long journey. I follow him curiously for two kilometers or more, but at last, concluding from the way in which he looks about when he passes under the street lights that he suspects that he is being followed, I turn off and go my way. Next night, however, he is at his corner again, with a large crowd about him this time, for it is the gay free night before the Sabbath when the people have their wages for the week. Crowds are entering and leaving the brothels; loud cheery talk sounds everywhere, in the dark and in the cold blue light of the street lamps; and coins fall steadily into the hat by the hydrant. A tall spectacled friend, well dressed in fur cap and greatcoat with fur collar, accompanies the preacher tonight and treats him disdainfully; but just as before, with the same bright earnestness, the little man tells simply of his “mission,” of God’s laws and God’s promises, and urges obedience to God. Without dismay, even with some zest, he speaks of last night: “Let ’em come an’ git me again;” he says, “Ah’ll be right back. They’ll have to carry me though,” he adds quickly. “I ain’t gwine to fight ’em. That’s what makes all the trouble, men, folks always a-fightin’. You boys,” he cries earnestly, “don’t you ever go to fightin’; don’t you ever go off to no war and kill folks. If they try to make you, don’t you care. Let ’em do what they can, but don’t you care. The Lord said, ‘Don’t do it!’ He does not wish you to do it! An’ God’ll look after you. Jes’ you obey Him an’ don’t you worry!” Introducing his companion, he assures his audience that this is “a splendid speaker,” and listens eagerly to the other’s halting, practiced: “Ah didn’t expect to be called on to speak yeah this evenin’”; and interpolates quick, bright “Amen”s, “Yes, He will”s, and “Bless his Name”s into the exhortation that follows. That night they were not attacked or molested.