"--_Peace_! _Peace_ is the message of the Lord to His children," roared
the voice from the upturned soap box, and when the speaker turned and
looked in the direction of the two men-with-a-difference he found them
sitting up very straight and apparently drinking in his words with great
relish; whereupon he felt that he was making gratifying progress toward
the salvation of their spotted souls. He was very glad, indeed, that he
had been so grievously misinformed about the personal attributes of one
Hopalong Cassidy,--glad and thankful.

"Death cometh as a thief in the night," the voice went on. "Think of
the friends who have gone before; who were well one minute and gone the
next! And it must come to all of us, to all of us, to me and to you--"

The man with the afflicted neck started rocking the bench.

"Something is coming to somebody purty soon," murmured Hopalong. He
began to sidle over towards his neighbor, his near hand doubled up into
a huge knot of protuberant knuckles and white-streaked fingers; but as
he was about to deliver his hint that he was greatly displeased at the
antics of the bench, a sob came to his ears. Turning his head swiftly,
he caught sight of the stranger's face, and sorrow was marked so
strongly upon it that the sight made Hopalong gape. His hand opened
slowly and he cautiously sidled back again, disgruntled, puzzled,
and vexed at himself for having strayed into a game where he was so
hopelessly at sea. He thought it all over carefully and then gave it up
as being too deep for him to solve. But he determined one thing: He was
not going to leave before the other man did, anyhow.

"An' if I catch that howling kerchief outside," he muttered, smacking