onto, and proud of being that stubborn. That
town was a awful religious town, and Hank he
knowed he was called the most onreligious man in it,
and he was proud of that too; and if any one called
him a heathen it jest plumb tickled him all over.

"Brother Walters," says that preacher, "we are
going to pray for you."

And they done it. They brought all them chairs
close up around that cistern, in a ring, and they
all kneeled down there, with their heads on 'em,
and they prayed fur Hank's salvation. They done
it up in style, too, one at a time, and the others
singing out, "Amen!" every now and then, and they
shed tears down onto Hank. The front yard was
crowded with men, all a-laughing and a-talking
and chawing and spitting tobacco and betting how
long Hank would hold out. Old Si Emery, that
was the city marshal, and always wore a big nickel-
plated star, was out there with 'em. Si was in a
sweat, 'cause Bill Nolan, that run the bar-room,
and some more of Hank's friends, or as near friends
as he had, was out in the road. They says to Si
he must arrest that preacher, fur Hank is being
gradual murdered in that there water, and he'll
die if he's helt there too long, and it will be a crime.
Only they didn't come into the yard to say it
amongst us religious folks. But Si, he says he
dassent arrest no one because it is outside the town