f the
security of his belief in the Divine protection, he had quoted a line
which recurred to David over and over--in the freshness of the morning,
in the hot hush of midday, and in the night when the stars were out:
"Behold, He that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep."

Overcome by shyness the young men had stayed away from the first
Sunday's service. David had gone hunting, feeling that to sit near by
and not attend would offer a slight to the doctor. No such scruples
restrained Leff, who squatted on his heels at the edge of the creek,
washing his linen and listening over his shoulder. By the second
Sunday they had mastered their bashfulness and both came shuffling
their hats in awkward hands and sitting side by side on a log. Leff,
who had never been to church in his life, was inclined to treat the
occasion as one for furtive amusement, at intervals casting a sidelong
look at his companion, which, on encouragement, would have developed
into a wink. David had no desire to exchange glances of derisive
comment. He was profoundly moved. The sonorous words, the solemn
appeal for strength under temptation, the pleading for mercy with that
stern, avenging presence who had said, "I, the Lord thy God am a
jealous God," awed him, touched the same chord that Nature touched and
caused an exaltation less exquisite but more inspiring.

The light fell flickering through the leaves of the cotton-woods on the
doctor's gray head. He looked up from his book, for he knew the words
by heart, and his quiet eyes dwelt on the distance swimming in morning
light. His friend, the old servant, stood behind him, a picturesque
figure in fringed buckskin shirt and moccasined feet. He held his
battered hat in his hand, and his head with its spare locks of grizzled
hair was reverently bowed. He neither spoke nor moved. It was Susan's
voice who repeated the creed and breathed out a low "We beseech thee to
hear us, Good Lord."

The tents and the wagons were behind her and back of them the long
green splendors of the prairie. Flecks of sun danced over her figure,
shot back and forth from her skirt to her hair as whiffs of wind caught
the upper branches of the cotton woods. She had been sitting on the
mess chest, but when the reading of the Litany began she slipped to her
knees, and with head inclined answered the responses, her hands lightly
clasped resting against her breast.

David, who had been looking at her, dropped h