face. At any rate he was unusually savage that evening, drank heavily
and went home late, raging and cursing at things in general and The
Pilot in particular--for Moore, in a timid sort of way, had tried to
quiet him and help him to his horse.

"Ornery sort o' beast now, ain't he?" said Hi, with the idea of
comforting The Pilot, who stood sadly looking after Bruce disappearing
in the gloom.

"No! no!" he answered, quickly, "not a beast, but a brother."

"Brother! Not much, if I know my relations!" answered Hi, disgustedly.

"The Master thinks a good deal of him," was the earnest reply.

"Git out!" said Hi, "you don't mean it! Why," he added, decidedly, "he's
more stuck on himself than that mean old cuss you was tellin' about this
afternoon, and without half the reason."

But Moore only said, kindly, "Don't be hard on him, Hi," and turned
away, leaving Hi and Bill gravely discussing the question, with the aid
of several drinks of whisky. They were still discussing when, an hour
later, they, too, disappeared into the darkness that swallowed up the
trail to Ashley Ranch. That was the first of many such services. The
preaching was always of the simplest kind, abstract questions being
avoided and the concrete in those wonderful Bible tales, dressed in
modern and in western garb, set forth. Bill and Hi were more than
ever his friends and champions, and the latter was heard exultantly to
exclaim to Bruce: