Part 59 (1/2)

Douglas put in the rest of the week placing his traps up the canyon, and purposely avoided talking with Fowler about his next sermon. He was not surprised, however, when he read the announcement which the preacher gave him to tack up on the post-office door. The sermon was to deal with the modern Magdalene.

Fowler had chosen his subject with the idea of exciting popular interest: his choice was almost perfect. Every soul in Lost Chief was packed into the log chapel long before the services began--every soul, that is, but Inez. Mr. Fowler never had been more eloquent and never, probably, had preached to a more deeply interested congregation. His sermon was a vitriolic arraignment, thinly disguised by Biblical nomenclature, of Inez Rodman.

When Fowler had finished, Young Jeff rose slowly to his feet. Douglas, from his usual place in a rear seat, smiled a little. He liked Young Jeff and liked him best when he rose as now, to do battle for a friend.

”Fowler,” said Young Jeff, ”I don't like that sermon. We all know who you are driving at, and as for me, you make me very sore. That's a Lost Chief girl and no outsider can come in here and insult her.”

”Right! Right!” called several men.

”I didn't expect you to like the sermon,” said Mr. Fowler. ”I'm through saying pleasant things to you folks. You are going to get straight facts from now on.”

”That's as it may be. But you keep your tongue off of Lost Chief women.”

”I don't know why you get your back up, Young Jeff!” cried Grandma Brown. ”The people of Lost Chief aren't ignorant. They do what they do because they prefer it that way. They know what the world calls their doings. Why be squeamish when Fowler comes in here and just repeats the world's att.i.tude on such doings? Inez is the ruination of our young folks, and we all know it.”

”That's right!” called Mrs. Falkner; and Mary Spencer added a low, ”Yes!

Yes!”

”She's better than any man in the room, right now!” cried Judith. ”If you are going to drive her out, you ought to drive the men out.”

”Fine!” called Charleton Falkner.

There was a quick guffaw of laughter, during which John Spencer rose.

”Fowler, I don't want to seem to go against my own son, but I want to say that if you try any more sermons like this one, I'm going to head a committee to run you out of the Valley.”

”I'd want to be head of that committee myself. Don't be a hog, John!”

drawled Charleton.

”That's a good idea!” exclaimed Scott Parsons. ”If the preacher says, 'Drive Inez out,' we'll say, 'Out with the preacher!'”

”You're all talking like a parcel of children!” said Grandma Brown.

”Come on!” shouted Scott. ”The Pa.s.s is open. Let's send him out now!”

Douglas slid to the end of the seat. Fowler stood tensely behind the table, pale, but calm. Peter Knight spoke for the first time.

”I've got an idea. Let's give the sky pilot just one more chance. Let's ask him to preach a sermon next Sunday that we can all feel the right kind of an interest in, or else resign, himself.”

Douglas spoke suddenly, ”Just what would that kind of a sermon be about, Peter?”

”Well, that's Fowler's job,” replied Peter. ”He's been at it all his life. He's probably learned by this time the kind of sermons people don't like. I don't want to see him driven out of Lost Chief. I want him to have his chance.”

”That's fair enough,” exclaimed Charleton. ”This isn't such bad fun. Why drive him out while the fun lasts? How about it, John?”

”Fair enough!” agreed John.

”Nothing doing!” cried Scott.

”Now, Scott,” warned Charleton amiably, ”you run the bull business and you'll have your hands full. We old regulars will handle the preacher.”