y looking after Bruce disappearing
in the gloom.

"No! no!" he answered, quickly, "not a beast, but a brother."

"Brother! Not much, if I know my relations!" answered Hi, disgustedly.

"The Master thinks a good deal of him," was the earnest reply.

"Git out!" said Hi, "you don't mean it! Why," he added, decidedly, "he's
more stuck on himself than that mean old cuss you was tellin' about this
afternoon, and without half the reason."

But Moore only said, kindly, "Don't be hard on him, Hi," and turned
away, leaving Hi and Bill gravely discussing the question, with the aid
of several drinks of whisky. They were still discussing when, an hour
later, they, too, disappeared into the darkness that swallowed up the
trail to Ashley Ranch. That was the first of many such services. The
preaching was always of the simplest kind, abstract questions being
avoided and the concrete in those wonderful Bible tales, dressed in
modern and in western garb, set forth. Bill and Hi were more than
ever his friends and champions, and the latter was heard exultantly to
exclaim to Bruce:

"He ain't much to look at as a parson, but he's a-ketchin' his second
wind, and 'fore long you won't see him for dust."

CHAPTER VII

THE LAST OF THE PERMIT SUNDAYS

The spring "round-ups" were all over and Bruce had nothing to do but
to loaf about the Stopping Place, drinking old Latour's bad whisky and
making himself a nuisance. In vain The Pilot tried to win him with loans
of books and magazines and other kindly courtesies. He would be decent
for a day and then would break forth in violent argumentation against
religion and all who held to it. He sorely missed The Duke, who was away
south on one of his periodic journeys, of which no one knew anything
or cared to ask. The Duke's presence always steadied Bruce and took
the rasp out of his manners. It was rather a relief to all that he was
absent from the next fortnightly service, though Moore declared he was
ashamed to confess this relief.

"I can't touch him," he said to me, after the service; "he is far too
clever, but," and his voice was full of pain, "I'd give something to
help him."

"If he doesn't quit his nonsense," I replied, "he'll soon be past
helping. He doesn't go out on his range, his few cattle wander
everywhere, his shack is in a beastly state, and he himself is going
to pieces, miserable fool that he is." For it did seem a shame that a
fellow should so throw himself away for n