es by the Presbyterians'--or by any others for that matter,"
interjected Father Mike. "Let us see who signs this blessed paper?
Macfarren. He's a beautiful churchman. Inspector Haynes. What's he got
to do with it? Frank, Smith, Crozier! Why, the thing is a farce! Not a
man of them ever goes to church. 'Whereas, the Presbyterians are quite
unable to assume any financial obligation in support of a minister.'
Why, the whole outfit doesn't contribute a dollar a month. Isn't it
preposterous, a beastly humbug! Who is this young whipper-snapper,
Lloyd, pray?" Father Mike's tone was full of contempt.

Shock winced. His friend had touched the only, place left raw by the
letter. "He is a college friend of mine," he answered quickly. "A fine
fellow and a great preacher."

"Oh!" replied Father Mike drily. "I beg pardon. Well, what will you do?"

"Withdraw," said Shock simply. "I haven't made it go, anyway."

"Rot!" said Father Mike, with great emphasis. "Macfarren doesn't want
you, and possibly the Inspector shares in that feeling,--I guess you
know why, but you are needed in this town, and needed badly."

But Shock only replied "I shall withdraw. I have been rather a failure,
I guess. Let's talk no more about it."

"All right, old chap," said Father Mike. "Come along to tea. I wish to
Heaven there were more failures like you in the country."

Shock's last service at the Fort marked his emancipation as a preacher
of the Gospel. Hitherto the presence of those whom he knew to be
indifferent or contemptuously critical had wrought in him a
self-consciousness that confused his thought, clogged his emotion, and
hampered his speech. This night all was changed. The hall was full; the
Inspector and his wife, with the men from the barracks, Macfarren and
his followers, General Brady and his gracious, sweet-faced wife, were
all there. Ike and The Kid--whose ranch lay halfway between the Lake
and the Fort had ridden in, and far back in the dim darkness of a
corner sat the doctor. As Shock stood up and looked into the faces of
the men before him and thought of their lives, lonely, tempted, frankly
wicked, some of them far down in degradation, he forgot himself, his
success, or his failure. What mattered that! How petty seemed now all
his considerations for himself! Men were before him who by reason of
sin were in sore need of help. He believed he had what they needed. How
to give it to them, that was the question. With this feeling of
sy