Hunt would not leave Betty, but he hurried her on, while Judson almost ran and was over the threshold before them. There was a sudden explosion of voices inside, Tolley’s tones high over all. “Here’s that derned cheater now!” the owner of the place was heard to shout as the storekeeper entered. “Bill Judson! you think you’re mighty smart, but you can’t put nothing like this over on me.” “What’s eatin’ on you, Tolley?” was Judson’s cool response. “The boys just told me what you folks was aimin’ to use this dump for. I didn’t hire it to you for no church. I won’t have it, I tell you! This is my shack.” “And I’ve paid rent for it for six months. What you goin’ to do about it?” drawled Judson. “I’ll show you! I won’t let no ham-faced old-timer like you make a fool of me.” Hunt reached the door. Betty was almost afraid to enter. There were several men inside and two or three women. Tolley was striding toward the pulpit, swinging his arms and shouting himself hoarse. “I’ll show you!” he shouted. “I own this dump. I’ll throw this litter into the street. A church in my shack? Well, I reckon not!” The distant whistle at the Great Hope pealed its first signal for the service. Several groups of Passonians were visible now, converging toward the place of worship. “Better cool down, Tolley,” advised Judson again. “We don’t aim to have any riot yere. This used to be your honkytonk, and a dirty place it was. But we reckon on running another sort of business in it, and you can’t stop us. You’re trying to throw sand in the gears o’ progress, as the feller said.” “I’ll show you what I can do!” shouted Tolley, mounting upon the pulpit platform. He whirled about, and saw Hunt entering the room. “Here’s that danged preacher now.” “Mr. Tolley,” said the parson clearly, “the wicked have been known to come to the house of God to scoff and have remained to pray. We are going to hold a service here in a quarter of an hour. You are invited to join us. But if you remain, I must ask you to be quiet.” “Why, you derned, white-livered tenderfoot! I’ll show you——” He seized upon Mother Tubbs’ big Bible and raised it as though he would fling it upon the ground. Betty gasped. Judson started forward. But Hunt’s voice rang loudest through the room. “Tolley! Put that Book down!” The compelling tone made the divekeeper pause. He still glared, his face distorted by wrath; but, as Joe Hurley had once said, the fellow after all had not the courage of a rabbit. He really expected Hunt to follow the command with the only show of authority that went in Canyon Pass—the display of a gun! But the parson had made no threatening gesture. He did not even advance down the room. “Dang you!” yelled Tolley, and brought the Bible down upon the pulpit with such emphasis that the desk rocked.