on."

"All right, Brother Leach," Wartrace answered. "I've got the same box
you spoke on before. I intend to keep it for good luck."

"All right, all right, roll it out, gentlemen. I'd help you, but I've
had a pretty stiff walk down the mountain to get here on time, and
want to sorter get my wind."

He stood fanning his perspiring face with his hat while two obliging
farmers brought the box out. "There under that tree," he ordered.
"Show me a cheaper pulpit than that, and I'll buy it for kindling-
wood. By the way, friends, two preachers over the mountain told me
last night that I was doing more harm than good, talking without pay
on the public highway as I am doing. I'd like to please every living
soul, including them, if I could. It makes them mad to see you all
gather to hear a jumping-jack like me. They say it's making salvation
too cheap, and quote Scripture as to 'the laborer being worthy of the
hire.' That would be all right if this was labor to me, but it isn't;
it is nothing but fun, an' fun full of the glory of God, at that."

The box was now in the required spot; and, mounting upon it, Leach
stamped on the boards vigorously to test their strength. "I'm gaining
flesh," he laughed. "Free grub is fattening. I'll have to gird up my
loins with a rope before long."

Then he was silent. The look of merriment passed from his face. Mostyn
thought he had never seen a more impressive figure as the man stood, a
ray of sunlight on his brow, looking wistfully over the heads of his
little audience toward the rugged mountains. Then slowly and