quivering breath through his white lips.

"Ask some more!"

On his side, the lad had lost divine passion as the pastor had
gained it. His interest waned while the pastor's waxed. His last
questions were put so falteringly, almost so inaudibly, that the
pastor might well believe his questioner beaten, brought back to
modesty and silence. To a deeper-seeing eye, however, the truth
would have been plain that the lad was not seeing his pastor at
all, but seeing THROUGH him into his own future: into his life, his
great chosen life-work. His young feet had come in their travels
nigh to the limits of his Promised Land: he was looking over into
it.

"Ask some more! The last of them! Out with them ALL! Make an end of
this now and here!"

The lad reached for his hat, which he had laid on the floor, and
stood up. He was as pale as the dead.

"I shall never be able to preach Apostolic Christianity," he said,
and turned to the door.

But reaching it, he wheeled and came back.

"I am in trouble!" he cried, sitting down again. "I don't know what
to believe. I don't know what I do believe. My God!" he cried
again, burying his face in his hands. "I believe I am beginning to
doubt the Bible. Great God, what am I coming to! what is my life