grinned Allen.

Slim had maneuvered until he reached the door blocking Jack's way. As
the bridegroom started to leave the room he took his hand, and with an
assumption of deep dejection and sorrow bade him "Good-bye."

"Oh, dry up!" laughed Jack, pushing the Sheriff aside. Halting, he
requested: "One thing I want to understand right now, if you're goin'
to fling any old boots after me remove the spurs."

"This yere's a sure enough event, an' I'm goin' to tap the barrel--an'
throw away the bung. Wow!" shouted Sage-brush.

CHAPTER VIII

The Sky Pilot

With the waves of immigration which have rolled Westward from the more
populous East, the minister of the gospel has always been in the van.
Often he combined the functions of the school-teacher with the duties
of the medical missionary. Wherever a dozen families had settled
within a radius of a hundred miles, the representative of a church was
soon to follow. He preached no creed. His doctrines were as wide as
the horizon. Living in the open air, preaching to congregations
gathered from the ends of the country, dealing with men more
unconventional than immoral, his sermons were concerned with the square
deal rather than with dogma. His influences were incalculable. He made
ready the field for the reapers who gathered the glory with the advance
of refinement. On the frontier he married the children, buried the
dead, consoled the mourners, and rejoiced with those upon whom fortune
smiled. His hardships were many and his rewards nothing. Of all the
fields of human endeavor which built up the West, the ministry is the
only one in which the material returns have not been commensurate with
the labor expended.

The Reverend Samuel Price was the representatives of the Christian army
in Pinal County, Arizona, at the time of our story. He was long and
lank, narrow in the chest, with sloping shoulders. Even life on the
plains could not eradicate the scholarly droop. His trousers were
black, and they bagged at the knees. When riding, his trousers would
work up about his calves, showing a wide expanse of white socks. For
comfort he wore an alpaca coat, which hung loosely about him, and, for
the dignity of his profession, the only boiled shirt in the county,
with a frayed collar and white string-tie.

The Reverend Mr. Price was liked by the settlers. He never interfered
with what they considered their relaxations, and he had the saving
grace of humor.

The