wd to show we mean business, we must march back here and ride
Bulger out of this camp! I don't hanker arter Vigilance Committees, as
a rule--it's a rough remedy--it's like drinkin' a quart o' whisky agin
rattlesnake poison but it's got to be done! We don't mind being sold
ourselves but when it comes to our standin' by and seein' the only
innocent people in Rattlesnake given away--we kick! Bulger's got to be
fired outer this camp! And he will be!"

But he was not.

For when, the next morning, a determined and thoughtful procession of
the best and most characteristic citizens of Rattlesnake Camp filed into
Sawyer's Dam, they found that their mysterious friends had disappeared,
although they met with a fraternal but subdued welcome from the general
camp. But any approach to the subject of their visit, however,
was received with a chilling dissapproval. Did they not know that
lawlessness of any kind, even under the rude mantle of frontier justice,
was to be deprecated and scouted when a "means of salvation, a power of
regeneration," such as was now sweeping over Sawyer's Dam, was at hand?
Could they not induce this man who was to be violently deported to
accompany them willingly to Sawyer's Dam and subject himself to the
powerful influence of the "revival" then in full swing?

The Rattlesnake boys laughed bitterly, and described the man of whom
they talked so lightly; but in vain. "It's no use, gentlemen," said
a more worldly bystander, in a lower voice, "the camp meetin's got a
strong grip here, and betwixt you and me there ain't no wonder. For the
man that runs it--the big preacher--has got new ways and methods that
fetches the boys every time. He don't preach no cut-and-dried gospel; he
don't carry around no slop-shop robes and clap 'em on you whether they
fit or not; but he samples and measures the camp afore he wades into
it. He scouts and examines; he ain't no mere Sunday preacher with a
comfortable house and once-a-week church, but he gives up his days and
nights to it, and makes his family work with him, and even sends 'em
forward to explore the field. And he ain't no white-choker shadbelly
either, but fits himself, like his gospel, to the men he works among. Ye
ought to hear him afore you go. His tent is just out your way. I'll go
with you."

Too dejected to offer any opposition, and perhaps a little curious to
see this man who had unwittingly frustrated their design of lynching
Bulger, they halted at the outer