e money back into the rifled pocket.

"You can take your hands down, sir." The man lowered his weapon
slowly, still keeping an eye on the other man, and speaking with
rough respect. The Bishop slowly brought his arms to his side, and
looked earnestly at the two men. In the dim light it was difficult
to distinguish features. He was evidently free to go his way now,
but he stood there making no movement.

"You can go on. You needn't stay any longer on our account." The man
who had acted as spokesman turned and sat down on a stone. The other
man stood viciously digging his stake into the ground.

"That's just what I am staying for," replied the Bishop. He sat down
on a board that projected from the broken fence.

"You must like our company. It is hard sometimes for people to tear
themselves away from us," and the man standing up laughed coarsely.

"Shut up!" exclaimed the other. "We're on the road to hell, though,
that's sure enough. We need better company than ourselves and the
devil."

"If you would only allow me to be of any help," the Bishop spoke
gently, even lovingly. The man on the stone stared at the Bishop
through the darkness. After a moment of silence he spoke slowly like
one who had finally decided upon a course he had at first rejected.

"Do you remember ever seeing me before?"

"No," said the Bishop. "The light is not very good and I have really
not had a good look at you."

"Do you know me now?" The man suddenly took off his hat and getting
up from the stone walked over to the Bishop until they were near
enough to touch each other.

The man's hair was coal black except one spot on the top of his head
about as large as the palm of the hand, which was white.

The minute the Bishop saw that, he started. The memory of fifteen
years ago began to stir in him. The man helped him.

"Don't you remember one day back in '81 or '82 a man came to your
house and told a story about his wife and child having been burned
to death in a tenement fire in New York?"

"Yes, I begin to remember now." The other man seemed to be
interested. He ceased digging his stake in the ground and stood
still listening.

"Do you remember how you took me into your own house that night and
spent all next day trying to find me a job? And how when you
succeeded in getting me a place in a warehouse as foreman, I
promised to quit drinking because you asked me to?"

"I remember it now. I hope you have kept your promise."

The man