down and say his prayers, but when he returned he found there was no one
there. Somehow he felt different then—he felt he couldn’t do it. He was
more afraid of nobody than he would have been of somebody. Then just
suppose the others came back and found him kneeling there!

“I funked it,” he said. “I got under the blanket, and tried to say my
prayers under the blanket, but it wouldn’t work. Then I heard one man come
into the room, then two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight. And the
eighth man was the champion swearer of the company.”

“Boys,” said this man, “did you hear him?”

“Yes,” they said, “we heard him.”

And the little chap under the blanket said “Yes” too.

“Well, I shook hands with that man, and I promised him for my mother’s
sake that I’d kneel down and say my prayers to-night.”

And the little chap under the blanket jumped up, blanket and all, and
said, “So did I. I’m with you.”

And the others said, “So did we.”

“Well,” the last comer said, “the best thing we can do is to kneel down
now and say a little prayer.”

So they all knelt down, and they each said a little prayer—I wish I had a
record of those prayers—and they finished up with “Our Father.”