served in lieu of a hat, issued from the door. The wanton luxuriance of
the hair would have stirred envy in any baldheaded man; but Tasper Britt
exhibited a passion that was more virulent than envy.

The man who came forth was "Prophet Elias." It was the newcomer, the
religious fanatic, the exhorter against oppression of the people by
usury, the fearless declaimer who named Tasper Britt in diatribe and was
setting the folks by the ears.

The Prophet's morning greeting did not make for amity. He stood straight
and pointed in turn to the visible statues and then to Tasper Britt, in
person. "Baal, and the images of Baal!" he shouted. "Stone, all three!"

Then he stepped from the door and spread a prodigiously big umbrella--an
umbrella striped in dingy colors and of the size of the canopies seen
over the drivers of delivery wagons. The employment of such a shield
from the sun in midwinter indicated that the Prophet was rather more
than eccentric; his garb conveyed the same suggestion. He wore a frayed
purple robe that hung on his heels when he came striding across the
street. On a broad band of cloth that once had been white, reaching from
shoulder to waist, diagonally across his breast, were the words, "The
Light of the World."

Tasper Britt surveyed him with venomous gaze as he advanced. But Britt
shifted his stare and put additional venom into the look he gave a
man who came to the door and stood there, leaning against the jamb and
surveying the scene with a satisfied grin. There was no need of the name
"Britt" above his head to proclaim his kinship with the man who stood on
the tavern porch. The beard of the Britt in the door was gray, and his
head was bald. But he was Tasper Britt, in looks, as Britt unadorned