nt of the church a quiet
game of tag was proposed, to while away the time until they should be
permitted to view the remains. And they at once proceeded to the nearby
church-sheds as a place marvelously adapted to the sport.

The game was less quiet than had been anticipated, and after a little
actually threatened to put the funeral out of business. Whereupon ol'
Joe, the sexton, hastily forming an alliance with big Lew Wright,
rushed out to disperse the noise-makers. Big Lew was an elder or deacon
or something whenever anything of importance was taking place at the
Baptist Church, and at other times he ran a sawmill. He enjoyed the
reputation of handling logs and boys in much the same rough manner; and
he scattered the participants in the game as he would have brushed away
a handful of sawdust.

The gang was withdrawing silently, albeit sullenly, when without warning
there came flying over the sheds a large chunk of sod to which a
quantity of soil was clinging. This disrespectful offering struck big
Lew in the place where his ready made necktie connected with his rubber
collar, forcing from his mouth a noise that sounded very much like
profanity.

Sube did not throw the sod, but he saw it strike; and he knew instantly
that was no place for him. In a desperate attempt to make a quick
getaway he fell down. And when he regained his feet the angry elder or
deacon or something was upon him. But somehow he managed to wriggle
through a hole in the fence inches smaller than his body and started for
the lumber yard nearby with big Lew, who nimbly scaled the fence, close
behind.

Somewhere among the piles of lumber Sube shook off his pursuer. Then he
crossed the railroad tracks by crawling under a slowly moving freight
train and finally reached a place of safety in a clump of willows behind
the sauerkraut factory, but not until he had left a fair impression of
his body in a puddle of slippery brine that had been drawn from a vat of
ancient kraut.

As he entered the refugee camp a moment later he was hailed with
delight. But his popularity was short-lived. The boys were sorry about
his accident, but had a peculiar way of showing it. They stopped
bemoaning the fact that they had not been able to view the remains, and
began to comfort Sube with bits of pithy humor, meanwhile keeping him at
a distance. Sube took this in good part until Dick Bissell suggested
that it might be interesting if Sube should go to the church in his