love, to aid me and his other chosen missionaries in the winning of
souls and the rescuing of the perishing, for I do not want to go into
his heavenly kingdom empty-handed. Do you?




CHAPTER XX.

JOE'S STORY.


In giving you Joe's story, I realize that I am taking considerable
liberty, having not asked his permission, but I am confident of his
willingness because of the lesson of warning to other boys--and they
are so many--whose early lives correspond to his. I am one of Joe's
interested friends. I have frequently visited him in the prison
adjacent to Folsom, near Sacramento, Cal., and have learned from Warden
Reilly that he is a model prisoner. I am hoping, and praying that, if
it be the will of God, he will soon be out on parole.

Whilst he was detained in the Santa Cruz jail awaiting a rehearing of
his case, it was frequently my privilege to visit that place through
the week and, with my little autoharp for accompaniment, to sing for
the prisoners. One afternoon, whilst I was sitting by the bars in front
of Joe's cell, and just following that blessed song, "Tell Mother I'll
Be There," he broke into agonizing sobs and tears, and for a long while
could not control himself as he lay prostrate face downward on the cold
stone floor. I waited and prayed, my very soul in agony for his, as I
began to appreciate and realize his awful situation. Stretching forth