“Yeppy,” pursued the storekeeper. “It has a slant to one side that maybe is more the fault of the floor than your spirit-level, Jib. And it looks sort o’ wabbly. But barrin’ them defects, it’s what I’d call a sightly pulpit.” “It’s strong enough,” grunted Collins gruffly, now not so much pleased. “I don’t reckon the parson is going to take a maul to it, is he?” Mother Tubbs just then entered the door. Behind her staggered Sam, his reeling motion for once having no connection with an alcoholic cause. Sam Tubbs was dead sober—and quite as positively provoked. “I snun to man!” he croaked. “Makin’ a pack-hoss of a man thisaway! If that danged parson wanted this yere Bible he ought’ve come and toted it himself.” “It’s very good of you to bring it, Mr. Tubbs,” said Hunt, smiling and coming forward to relieve the old man of his burden. Hunt placed the big Bible on the pulpit. One of the interested housewives had sent a rather handsome linen table-scarf for a pulpit cloth, and although it was somewhat yellowed from disuse, it made the unpainted desk seem less bare. They drifted in, one by one and in couples, during the evening, these people deprived so long of the inspiration of worship in a public sense, some bringing hymn-books of various sorts and a few Bibles. But Hunt had not come to Canyon Pass unprepared on that score for church work. He had brought with him from the East fifty hymn-books of the more popular kind and a dozen Bibles for the use of the congregation in general. When these had been distributed about the benches they made, Mother Tubbs declared, “a mighty tasty show.” Betty was present to be introduced to the women of the camp. Whatever her private feelings were, the parson’s sister could be, and was on this occasion, a very helpful assistant to her brother. If the Passonians felt a little awkward, Betty put them quickly at their ease. She made a most fortunate impression on them all, and the general opinion was “that that Eastern gal was a perfect lady.” Joe Hurley appeared with some of the younger men. They were all scrubbed till their faces shone, shaved to a nicety, and their hair “slicked” and anointed with everything Jose, the Mexican barber, had on his shelves. “Umph!” murmured Mother Tubbs, wrinkling her nose appreciatively. “Certainly smells proper good since them fellers come in yere. I never did see why bay rum smells so much better than drinkin’ rum. And bay rum’s the only kind of liquor I approve of. The other I only get at second-hand—on Sam’s breath!” It was late in the evening, and the town was getting lively, though it seemed not so noisy as on most pay-nights, when they scattered from the door of the meeting room. Hunt and Betty were the last to go. He latched the door behind them, but there was no thought in his mind of locking it. That anybody would enter the place before morning did not cross his thought.