ublic man.
The smaller, but evidently more important of these men, wore a complete
camping costume. His hat was very wide and stiff of brim and had a woven
band of horsehair; his neckerchief was very red and worn bib fashion in
the way Bob had come to believe that no one ever wore a neckerchief save
in Western plays and the illustrations of Western stories; his shirt was
of thick blue flannel, thrown wide open at the throat; his belt was very
wide and of carved leather; his breeches were of khaki, but bagged above
and fitted close below the knee into the most marvellous laced boots,
with leather flaps, belt lacings, and rows of hobnails with which to
make tracks. Bob estimated these must weigh at least three pounds
apiece. The man wore a little pointed beard and eyeglasses. About him
Bob recognized a puzzling familiarity. He could not place it, however,
but finally decided he must have carried over a recollection from a
tailor's fashion plate of the Correct Thing for Camping.
The other man was taller, heavier, but not near so impressive. His form
was awkward, his face homely, his ears stuck out like wings, and his
expression was that of the always-appreciated buffoon.
Bob was about to pass on, when he noticed that he was not the only
spectator of all this ease of manner. A dozen of the campers had
gathered, and were staring across the ropes with quite frank and
unabashed curiosity. More were coming from all directions. In a short
time a crowd of several hundred had collected, and stood, evidently in
expectation. Then, and only then, did the small man with the pointed
beard seem to become aware of the presence of any one besides his
companion. He leaned across to exchange a few words with the latter,
after which he laid aside his hat, arose and advanced to the rope
barrier on which he rested the tips of his fingers.
"My friends," he began in a nasal but penetrating voice, that carried
without effort to every hearer. "I am not a regularly ordained minister
of the gospel. I find, however, that there is none such among us, so I
have gathered you here together this morning to hear a few words
appropriate to the day. It has pleased Providence to call me to a public
position wherein my person has become well known to you all; but that is
an accident of the great profession to which I have been called, and I
bow my heart in humility with the least and most lowly. I am going to
tell you about myself this morning, not beca
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