"All right, David, I'll trust you, as I trust your sister. Between you
I'm safe. And now, you lay low! That's my advice." He dropped from his
mystery and his mastery to a level of colloquial teasing. "I'm going to
rest under your humble roof to-night, and to-morrow I'm going to the
mansion of Peter Hingston. His gates will be set wide for me, and all the
double log-cabin palaces and frame houses of this royal city of
Leatherwood will hunger for my presence. You could always hold your
tongue, David, and you can easily leave all the whys and wherefores to me.
I won't go from your hospitality with an ungrateful tongue; I will
proclaim before the assembled multitudes in your temple that I left you
secure in the faith, and that I turned to others because they needed me
more. I am not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance; they
will understand that. So good night, David, and good morning. I shall be
gone before even you are up."

Gillespie made no answer as he followed his guest indoors. Long before he
slept he heard the man's powerful breathing like that of some strong
animal in its sleep; an ox lying in the field, or a horse standing in its
stall. At times it broke chokingly and then he snorted it smooth and
regular again. At daybreak Gillespie thought of rising, but he drowsed,
and he was asleep when his daughter came to the foot of the ladder which
climbed to his chamber in the cabin loft, and called to him that his
breakfast was ready.



IV