aims a bee line fer Sister Kildare's house, bekase I'm hongry.
She don't never turn no hongry man away. 'Tain't safe to turn a hongry
man away. You cain't never tell," he added slowly and significantly,
"who He might be."

There was a little pause, uncomfortable on Channing's part. Mysticism
did not often come his way. He decided that the peddler was a trifle
mad.

Then Mrs. Kildare said, "Tell this gentleman something about your own
mountain, Brother Bates. He'd like to hear."

"I'm mighty discouraged about 'em up thar, an' that's a fack." He shook
his head gloomily. "Folks on Misty is hongrier, and drunker, and meaner
than ever--most as mean as they be in the cities. They're pison
ign'rant. That's the trouble. The Word of God comes to 'em, but they're
too ign'rant to onderstand. 'Tain't wrote in no language they knows, and
ef it was, they couldn't read it. Take this here, now--'Love thy
neighbor as thyself.' What does that mean to 'em? They ain't got no
neighbors to speak of, and them they has, ef they ain't kin-folks, is
enemies. Ef the Book was to say 'Git the drop on thy neighbor before he
gits the drop on thee,' they'd understand. That's their language--but it
ain't God's. I goes on totin' 'em the Word of God in my pack, and them
that won't buy I gives it to. But there ain't nobody to explain it to
'em."

"What about you? Why can't you explain it to them?" asked Kate Kildare.

He shook his head again. "None of 'em wants to listen to old Brother
Bates. They know I'm as ign'rant as what they be. I used to think ef I
could manage someway to git book-l'arnin', I might be a preacher some
day. But I dunno. Reckon I never could 'a' yelled and hollered loud
enough, nor scared 'em up proper about hell-fire. I ain't so sure I got
convictions about hell-fire," he admitted, apologetically. "Seems to me
it ain't nateral. Seems to me ef there ever was such a thing, the Lord
in His loving-kindness would 'a' put it out long ago.--And I couldn't
ever have started the hymn for 'em--never could remember a tune in my
born days. No, no! The best I can do for 'em is just to keep on totin'
the Word of God around in my pack, hopin' they'll kind of absorb it in
at the skin, like I done."

Philip said, "What about the Circuit Riders? Do none of them come to
Misty?" He referred to a class of itinerant preachers who are entitled
to as much honor for the work they have done among Cumberland
mountaineers as any missionaries to the heat