Thus the crucial battle of his life was fought while Wiles sat in that little church. Such a struggle comes into many a life. Angels must look upon it with the deepest interest and attention. The crisis may arrive at church or at home, on the high sea or on the land, in a storied mansion or in a little cottage, at the midnight hour or in the open day--the place or time counts for little, but the result is as wide as eternity. This hour was propitious for Sam Wiles. A proper choice would have revolutionized his character, would have gladdened the angels in heaven, and written his name deep in the "Book of Life." But alas! alas! before the sermon was ended he had resisted God's Holy Spirit, and, instead of one devil, seven devils had entered into his soul. A hard expression spread over his face, his eyes flashed with a dangerous fire, and he cast a look of defiance and contempt upon the speaker that (so subtle, strong, and swift are the laws of mind) Very, seeing it, would have been confused and perhaps overcome in his discourse if the shield of Almighty God had not protected him. As for Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf, the services had no more effect for good upon him than a strong fortress would be affected by shooting white beans at it. When his favorite business, illicit distilling, was denounced by Very, the dwarf's wrath grew so hot that he could not refrain from muttering under his breath: "I wish I could drown you uns and all yer pious hypercrits in whisky. Dat's my holt." As the last hymn was being sung Sam Wiles left the church and walked out into the moonlight. He was joined by Turner and a few more of the clan. For a few minutes they held a whispered conversation, and then separated. When the meeting broke up a half hour later, it was found that the girths on the horses belonging to the preachers, the Costello family and others had been cut and destroyed. Also the traces of Judge LeMonde's harness. CHAPTER XII. The Shameful Plot. The moonlight showed a look of blank amazement and concern upon the faces of the victims of this dastardly trick, especially the women; but John Larkin's unfailing good temper and witty sayings relieved the situation. "There is no use crying over spilled milk," said he, "and I am sure, as Poor Richard remarks, 'God helps them that help themselves.' So we must find some way to remedy this trouble, for we cannot stand here gazing into the moon's face all night, and the distance to our homes is too great to walk. Let us look about among the trees, and perhaps we can find pieces of the girths and harness." This was done, and presently several pieces were found. With these the traces of the carriage were repaired and a number of the saddles made fit for service. By some of the men riding double on horseback the mischief was tolerably mended and all returned to their lodgings in safety.