Not long after breakfast they had prayers, at which Job insisted that Tony and Hans and Sing should all be present. As he looked around at the scene, the African and Mongolian sitting attentive while he read the words, "They shall come from the east and the west, and sit down in the kingdom of God," he thought the promise was kept that morning at the ranch. After devotions, Sing surprised them all by saying, "Me Clistian. Me go to mission in Chinatown, San Flancisco. Me say idols no good. Me play (pray) heap. Jeso he lub Sing. Me feel heap good." They were overjoyed. Andy Malden shook hands heartily all around. Hans said, "In Vaterland, Hans was sehr goot; pray for Hans, he goot here." That was the great love-feast at Pine Tree Ranch, which Tony loved to tell about as long as he lived. The church was crowded that Sunday when Job and Andrew Malden drove up behind the team of grays, with a lunch tucked under the seat, so they could stay all day. It was Communion Sunday. The neat white cloth which covered the table in front of the pulpit told the story as they pushed their way in. The congregation was singing, "Safely through another week, God has brought us on our way," and Job thought it was a long, long week since he had sat in the old church and heard that hymn. How natural it looked! The bare white walls, with here and there a crack which had carved a not inartistic line up the sides. The stiff wooden pulpit, almost hid to-day under the June roses. The same preacher who had said that Christmas night, "Wilt thou be baptized in this faith?" The little organ in the corner. The old familiar faces looking up from the benches, and some new ones. There had been a revival that winter in the church, and now Job could see its results. The whole congregation was sprinkled with faces he used to see in the saloons and on the streets, but had never hoped to see in church. Aye, and there were some faces missing. Where was old Grandpa Reynolds, who at that long-ago camp-meeting sang "Palms of victory, crowns of glory I shall wear"? A strange feeling came over Job as he remembered that he had gone Home to wear the crown of a sainted life. "Some of the host have crossed the flood, And some are crossing over." The choir was singing the words. Job thought again of the aged saint. He thought of Yankee Sam and that wild night when he died; of Tim, poor Irish Tim; and then of that sweet face in the plain wooden casket in the strange California city--his boyhood's idol--and the tears started to his eyes. "Unto you therefore which believe, He is precious." That was the text. The preacher was beginning the sermon, and Job called back his thoughts and leaned forward to listen.