upraised
hands. Then a curious thing happened. A sharp cry arose far off down
toward the swamp and the sound of great footsteps coming, coming as from
the end of the world; there swelled a rhythmical chanting, wilder and
more primitive than song. On, on it came, until it swung into sight. An
old man led the band--tall, massive, with tufted gray hair and wrinkled
leathery skin, and his eyes were the eyes of death. He reached the
circle of light, and Zora started: once before she had seen that old
man. The singing stopped but he came straight on till he reached Zora's
side and then he whirled and spoke.

The words leaped and flew from his lips as he lashed the throng with
bitter fury. He said what Zora wanted to say with two great differences:
first, he spoke their religious language and spoke it with absolute
confidence and authority; and secondly, he seemed to know each one there
personally and intimately so that he spoke to no inchoate throng--he
spoke to them individually, and they listened awestruck and fearsome.

"God is done sent me," he declared in passionate tones, "to preach His
acceptable time. Faith without works is dead; who is you that dares to
set and wait for the Lord to do your work?" Then in sudden fury, "Ye
generation of vipers--who kin save you?" He bent forward and pointed his
long finger. "Yes," he cried, "pray, Sam Collins, you black devil; pray,
for the corn you stole Thursday." The black figure moved. "Moan, Sister
Maxwell, for the backbiting you did today. Yell, Jack Tolliver, you
sneaking scamp, t'wil the Lord tell Uncle Bill who ruined his daughter.
Weep, May Haynes, for that baby--"

But the woman's shriek drowned his words, and he whirled full on the
preacher, stamping his feet and waving his hands. His anger choked him;
the fat preacher cowered gray and trembling. The gaunt fanatic towered
over him.

"You--you--ornery hound of Hell! God never knowed you and the devil owns
your soul!" There leapt from his lips a denunciation so livid, specific,
and impassioned that the preacher squatted and bowed, then finally fell
upon his face and moaned.

The gaunt speaker turned again to the people. He talked of little
children; he pictured their sin and neglect. "God is done sent me to
offer you all salvation," he cried, while the people wept and wailed;
"not in praying, but in works. Follow me!" The hour was halfway between
midnight and dawn, but nevertheless the people leapt frenziedly to their
f