of hymn books he had near him on the counter, he said in a grave,
sweet voice, and with the quiver of a smile about his lips:

"Gentlemen, Mr. Latour has allowed me this room for a religious service.
It will give me great pleasure if you will all join," and immediately he
handed a book to Bronco Bill, who, surprised, took it as if he did not
know what to do with it. The others followed Bronco's lead till he came
to Bruce, who refused, saying roughly:

"No! I don't want it; I've no use for it."

The missionary flushed and drew back as if he had been struck, but
immediately, as if unconsciously, The Duke, who was standing near,
stretched out his hand and said, with a courteous bow, "I thank you; I
should be glad of one."

"Thank you," replied The Pilot, simply, as he handed him a book. The men
seated themselves upon the bench that ran round the room, or leaned up
against the counter, and most of them took off their hats. Just then in
came Muir, and behind him his little wife.

In an instant The Duke was on his feet, and every hat came off.

The missionary stood up at the bar, and announced the hymn, "Jesus,
Lover of My Soul." The silence that followed was broken by the sound of
a horse galloping. A buckskin bronco shot past the window, and in a few
moments there appeared at the door the Old Timer. He was about to stride
in when the unusual sight of a row of men sitting solemnly with hymn
books in their hands held him fast at the door. He gazed in an amazed,
helpless way upon the men, then at the missionary, then back at the men,
and stood speechless. Suddenly there was a high, shrill, boyish laugh,
and the men turned to see the missionary in a fit of laughter. It
certainly was a shock to any lingering ideas of religious propriety they
might have about them; but the contrast between his frank, laughing face
and the amazed and disgusted face of the shaggy old man in the doorway
was too much for them, and one by one they gave way to roars of
laughter. The Old Timer, however, kept his face unmoved, strode up to
the bar and nodded to old Latour, who served him his drink, which he
took at a gulp.

"Here, old man!" called out Bill, "get into the game; here's your deck,"
offering him his book. But the missionary was before him, and, with very
beautiful grace, he handed the Old Timer a book and pointed him to a
seat.

I shall never forget that service. As a religious affair it was a dead
failure, but somehow I think The P