ervice? I am a minister!"

Filmer reeled before this announcement, took the stranger in from head
to foot, then remarked in an awed tone:

"The hell you are!"

"I am. My name's Drew, Ralph Drew."

Murphy beat a rapid retreat. The scene was too much for him. Filmer, in
doubt as to whether this was a joke or not, stood his ground.

The young fellow laughed good-naturedly.

"I know what you think," he said, and coughed sharply; "I got my
credentials all right. I nearly finished myself in getting them, but
they're all right. Graduated last June, went under soon after, got on my
feet two weeks ago, and am making for Green Lake. I got side-tracked at
the Junction through my own stupidity, and landed here. Perhaps you can
direct me to a quiet place for the night, and I'll be glad to help you
out in any way along my line, if I can."

This lengthy explanation was interrupted by short, hacking coughs, and
Filmer's eyes never dropped from the eager boyish face through it all.

Presently he leaned down and took the dress-suit case from the other's
hand.

"Drop that," he drawled, "and you follow me. There's the Black Cat
Tavern, but I guess that ain't your kind. Do you think you can make my
shack? It's a half-mile, and pretty uppish grade."

The boy began to thank Filmer.

"Hold on!" Jock commanded. "Keep your wind for the climb, and stop
gassing."

The two started on, and the climb was a silent one. Filmer
appreciatively strode ahead, speechless. Drew, panting, accepted the
situation gratefully, and made the most of his position and his leader's
silence.

Filmer's shack was a lonely place, standing on a little pine-clad knoll
facing the west. It had four small rooms, a broad piazza, and a thrifty
garden at the rear.

The room assigned to Drew had a cot-bed and rough, home-made toilet
accommodations that suggested comfort and a sense of refinement. When
Filmer made him welcome to it, he said quietly: "Now kid, you make
yourself trim and dandy. Come out on the piazza when you get good and
ready, and we'll have supper out there later." It was evident that
Jock's sympathies had been touched.

Once alone, Drew sank upon the low bed, and permitted the waves of
weakness and weariness to engulf him.

The young face grew pinched and blue, a faintness rose and conquered
him. The eyes closed, and the breath almost stopped. But it was only
momentary, and with returning consciousness came renewed hope and sudden
strength.