The four brothers glanced at one another with hot, wild eyes. They had reason to suspect that they were themselves the subject of the parson’s supplications, and they resented this as a liberty. They had prized their standing in the church not because they were religious, in the proper sense of the word, but from a realization of its social value. In these primitive regions the sustaining of a reputation for special piety is a sort of social distinction and a guarantee of a certain position. The moonshiners neither knew nor cared what true religion might be. To obey its precepts or to inconvenience themselves with its restraints, was alike far from their intention. They had received with boundless amazement the first intimation that the personal and practical religion which the “skimpy saint” had brought into the gorge might consistently interfere with the liquor trade, the illicit distilling of whisky, and the unlimited imbibing thereof by themselves and the sottish company that frequented the still-house. They had laughed at his temperance sermons and ridiculing his warnings had treated the whole onslaught as a trifle, a matter of polemical theory, in the nature of things transitory, and had expected it to wear out as similar spasms of righteousness often do--more’s the pity! Then they would settle down to continue to furnish spirituous comfort to the congregation, while the “skimpy saint” ministered to their spiritual needs. The warlike little parson, however, had steadily advanced his parallels, and from time to time had driven the distillers from one subterfuge to another, till at last, although they were well off in this world’s goods--rich men, according to the appraisement of the gorge--they were literally turned out of the church, and had become a public example, and they felt that they had experienced the most unexpected and disastrous catastrophe possible in nature. They were stunned that so small a man had done this thing, a man, so poor, so weak, so dependent for his bread, his position, his every worldly need, on the favor of the influential members of his scattered congregations. It had placed them in their true position before their compeers. It had reduced their bluster and boastfulness. It had made them seem very small to themselves, and still smaller, they feared, in the estimation of others. Moses Carter--himself no shining light, indeed a very feebly glimmering luminary in the congregation--looked from one to the other of their aghast indignant faces with a ready relish of the situation, and said, with a grin: “I reckon, Painter, ef the truth war plain, ye’d ruther hev all the gorge ter know ez the pa’son war a-spreadin’ the fac’s about this hyar still afore a United States marshal than afore the throne o’ grace, like he be a-doin’ of right now.”