man, we won it all, th' doctor an' me! Th' other two wanted to play on their watches, they wud a' pawned th' clothes off their backs; but we wouldn't let them! We gave 'em back enough to grub stake 'em back to their job! Then some one says, th' vera words: A can hear them yet, 'Let's go across an' hear those damned evangelists: there's a white faced whiskers, an' a little clean shaved jumpin' jack skippin' all over the backs o' the church seats pretendin' he's Henry Ward Beecher an' sayin' in a fog horn voice, 'I like that.' Let's go an' raise Hell. "Wayland, man, we went across! 'Twas all true, there was the white faced fat man; an' there was the little clean chopped chap jumpin' all over the backs o' th' seats; an' there was a lot o' snivellin' Saints in Israel, women that cry an' sissie men that get converted an' converted at every meetin'! Man, Wayland, A'd like to dump th' job lot o' such folks out in a cesspool! They do religion more harm than the Devil! They're about as like what fightin' Christians ought to be as a spit wad's like a bullet! Well, we went in with a whoop; but God wasn't out for the sissies that night, Wayland: he was out with a gun for red blood men! He got us, Wayland! That's all! 'Twasn't the poor puny preachers, perhaps 'twas th' music: th' fat one cud sing, but when we came out the doctor was cryin'; poor fellow he killed himself in D. T.'s later; an' A was all plugged up wi' cold in m' head blowin' m' nose! 'Boys,' says I, 'here's where I get off. Here's y'r money back. A've put up a pretty good fight for the Devil so far an' A've earned m' way! Now, A'm goin' t' fight for God an' earn m' way!' They didn't want to take the money back. They didn't believe it. A finished my job on the railroad, then A slummed it in th' cities, this was when the bishop tried to turn me school boy at forty, an' to dig in y'r graveyard o' theology; that was before m' brother was bishop and why, A hiked for Indians, Wayland! A know the Cree tongue, an' A know the need o' decency in th' tepees, an' A know the trick o' puttin' Christianity into th' end o' m' fist on white blackguards! An' that's all." "Is that all?" repeated Wayland; and he gave the old frontiersman the same kind of a look, Matthews had given him that day going up the face of the Pass precipice. "Yes, that's all there was to it; an' A could no more tell y' what happened, Wayland, than y' could tell a man what happened when y' jumped in that pool an' got washed clean! Better try it, Wayland!"