They remained unmoved--outwardly, however shrinking with terror some of them may have been. Perhaps it was they felt that the man had, in a way, threatened them physically, and they had a feeling that it would show cowardice on their part to betray their fear, or it may have been that, as was nearly always the case when a prophet came to a people, they attributed to the bearer of the messages of the ill the responsibility for the ills which he foretold--however it may have been, the people only glanced up at the weird figure, and made no move. But the appearance of the man at that moment had the effect of making them forget the scene which had immediately preceded the sound of his voice. No one looked to see whether or not John Bennet had scrambled back to the beach or had gone under the waters. “It is coming--it is coming: I hear the sound of the hoofs of the pale Horse--yonder is the red Horse spoken of by the prophet at Patmos, but the White Horse is champing his bit. I hear the clink of the steel, and Death is his rider. He cometh with fire and brimstone. Repent--repent--repent!” “I have a mind to make the fellow repent of his impudence,” said Parson Rodney. “The effrontery of the man trying to make me play a part in his quackery. I wonder how this water-finder would find the water if I were to give him the ducking I gave to the other?” “You would do wrong, sir,” said Wesley. “But I feel that I have no need to tell you so: your own good judgment tells you that yonder man is to be pitied rather than punished.” “Oh, if that is the view you take of the matter, you may be sure that I'll not interfere,” cried the other. “The fellow may quack or croak or crow for aught I care.'Twas for you I was having thought. But I've no intention of constituting my humble self your champion. I wish you well; and I know that if the world gets over the strain of Monday, we shall never see you in our neighbourhood again.” “The elements shall melt with fervent heat. You feel it--you feel it on your faces to-day: I foretold it, and I was sent to cry unto all that have ears to hear, 'Repent--repent--repent'!” “The fellow has got no better manner than a real prophet,” laughed Parson Rodney; but there was not much merriment in his laughter. “I have a mind to have him brought before me as an incorrigible rogue and vagabond,” he continued. “An hour or twain in the stocks would make him think more civilly of the world. If he becomes bold enough to be offensive to you, Mr. Wesley, give me a hint of it, and I'll promise you that I'll make him see more fire and brimstone than he ever did in one of his ecstatic moods; and so good-day to you, sir.” He put his horse to a trot, and returned the salutes of the men who were standing idly watching Pritchard in his very real sackcloth. But he had scarcely ridden past them when he turned his horse and called out: “Wherefore are you idle, good men? Do you mean to forsake the remainder of your smacks?”