wist" and homemade cob pipes. After injecting an ample amount of "long
twist" into the cob pipe's empty stomach and lighting a match thereto
and sending a few initiatory puffs into the air, these mountaineers made
off in the darkness toward their homes in different directions. Some
went in groups, some by twos, some singly. Seen from a distance in the
blackness of the night these companies resembled a regiment of
glow-worms in a potato patch. From over the flint hills in the distance
came the familiar rattle and rumble of old-fashioned lumber wagons whose
occupants had come far to hear the much-discussed preacher from "over
east." Now and then the night air was pierced by hideous yells and
whistles from roguish boys dashing along on horseback, whose popularity
depended on the amount of noise they made.

Is the offense of the cross ceased? Nay, verily; they that "live godly
in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." So say the Scriptures, and so
thought Evangelist Blank as he lay down to rest that night after he had
closed the testimony-meeting. Evangelist Blank slept in a tent, which
had been pitched near the brush arbor. Several such tents had been
pitched by Jake Benton and other neighbors, who, finding it ill
convenient to go to and from the meeting each night, had decided to run
it somewhat on the camp-meeting plan.

On the particular night of which we have been speaking, Evangelist Blank
from some cause unknown to him was awakened shortly after midnight. Not
being able to resume sleep, he thought to improve even the midnight time
by musing on the goodness of God. As he lay thus gazing through the thin
canvas of his tent at the moon, which was now a two hour's journey in
the sky, he was startled by the sight of a man's shadow on the side of
the tent. He lay still and listened. Soon he heard low muttering voices
a few rods from his tent. Still he listened. They drew nearer and
nearer. Finally the mutterings became whisperings. Still he listened,
and prayed. They came nearer. Soon several shadows were cast on the
canvas. He saw the winding shadow of a rope as it dangled from the arms
of one of the men. Still he listened. Still they whispered.

"No difference about Benton, we want the preacher," he heard one say.

"Are you sure this is his tent?" whispered another.

"Yes, I saw him sitting in this tent's door reading this afternoon,"
whispered a third.

"We must get the rope on him and make away with him before th