The preacher glanced uneasily at the colonel, but replied, still in the hysterical intonation of his exordium:—
“Yes! a complete searching of hearts—a casting out of the seven Devils of Pride, Vain Glory”—
“Thank you—that is sufficient,” said the colonel blandly. “But might I—er—be permitted to suggest that you—er—er—SET THEM THE EXAMPLE! The statement of the circumstances attending your own past life and conversion would be singularly interesting and exemplary.”
The preacher turned suddenly and glanced at the colonel with furious eyes set in an ashy face.
“If this is the flouting and jeering of the Ungodly and Dissolute,” he screamed, “woe to you! I say—woe to you! What have such as YOU to do with my previous state of unregeneracy?”
“Nothing,” said the colonel blandly, “unless that state were also the STATE OF ARKANSAS! Then, sir, as a former member of the Arkansas BAR—I might be able to assist your memory—and—er—even corroborate your confession.”
But here the enthusiastic adherents of the preacher, vaguely conscious of some danger to their idol, gathered threateningly round the platform from which he had promptly leaped into their midst, leaving the colonel alone, to face the sea of angry upturned faces. But that gallant warrior never altered his characteristic pose. Behind him loomed the reputation of the dozen duels he had fought, the gold-headed stick on which he leaned was believed to contain eighteen inches of shining steel—and the people of Laurel Spring had discretion.
He smiled suavely, stepped jauntily down, and made his way to the entrance without molestation.
But here he was met by Blair and Slocum, and a dozen eager questions:—
“What was it?” “What had he done?” “WHO was he?”