“It wouldn’t comfort me none,” answered the girl. “I reckon it ain’t religion—and a sky pilot—that Canyon Pass needs after all. If we’d just run about fifty of these tramps out of town—and Boss Tolley and his gang—we could get along without psalm-singing and such flubdubbery.” “You ain’t talking like you used to, Nell,” said the old woman, observing her curiously. “I hadn’t thought so much about it. Religion is too soft. These roughnecks would ride right over a parson and—and that kind. Now, wouldn’t they?” “Not altogether. I expect they’d try—at first. But if a man had enough grace in him, he’d stand up against ’em.” “He’d better have backbone.” “Same thing,” chuckled Mother Tubbs. “Same thing. It takes the grace of God to stiffen a man’s backbone—I tell you true. I hope this parson Mr. Joe Hurley talks about has got plenty of grace.” “Who—what?” gasped the girl. “What parson?” “Well, now! That is a gob o’ news. But I thought you must o’ heard it—over to Colorado Brown’s, or somewhere—the way you was talkin’. This parson is a friend of Mr. Joe Hurley, and he wants to get him out yere.” “From the East?” “Yeppy. Mr. Joe says he went to school with him. And he’s some preacher.” “What do you think o’ that!” ejaculated Nell. “Mr. Hurley didn’t say anything to me about it the day we rode into the Pass together.” “I reckon not. This has all been hatched up since then.” “But, Mother Tubbs!” cried the girl. “You don’t expect any tenderfoot parson can come in here and make over Canyon Pass?” “I reckon not. We folks have got to make ourselves over. But we need a leader—we need a Shower of the Way. We’ve lost our eyesight—the best of us—when it comes to seeing God’s ways. My soul! I couldn’t even raise a prayer in conference meeting no more. But I used to go reg’lar when I was a gal—played the melodeon—led the singin’—and often got down on my knees in public and raised a prayer.” “Humph!” scoffed the girl. “If God answered prayer, I bet you prayed over Sam enough to have cured him of getting drunk forty times over!” “I don’t know—I don’t know,” returned Mother Tubbs thoughtfully. “I been thinking lately that, mebbe when I was praying to God to save Sam from his sins, I was cursing Sam for his meanness! I ain’t got as sweet a disposition as I might have, Nell.” “Oh, yes you have, Mother Tubbs!” exclaimed Nell, and suddenly jumped up to kiss the old woman warmly. “You’re a dear, sweet old thing!” “Well, now,” rejoined Mother Tubbs complacently, “I ought to purr like any old tabby-cat for that.” CHAPTER V—HOW THE PASSONIANS TOOK IT “Well,” observed Bill Judson oracularly, “it’s about time for something new to break in Canyon Pass. About once in so often even a dead-an’-alive camp like this yere has got to feel the bump of progress from the train behind. Otherwise we’d stay stalled till Gabriel’s trump.”