"No, sirree! I ain't much on religion, I ain't, but if Sunday's goin' to be a day o' rest, so be it," answered Maybe Dixon. "Maybe 'twill do us a heap o' good anyway."
Before the boys and Dixon retired for the night a man, dressed in a suit of black and carrying a bundle of tracts, came to them.
"There will be preaching on the Lord's Day at the tent with the blue and white flag," said he. "All are invited. Preaching at ten o'clock and at three."
"Let us go," said Si, and the others agreed. Sunday dawned bright and fair, and when they arrived at the "gospel tent" they found quite a crowd assembled. Seats had been placed for the women and children, while the men stood up in the rear. The sermon was short but to the point, and half a dozen familiar hymns were sung. The hat was passed around, and everybody gave something.
"That's real home-like," said Bob. "It shows that folks have the right feelings, even if they are hundreds of miles from home."
"It was splendid," returned Mark. The singing especially had pleased him.
"I'm going every Sunday, if I get the chance," put in Si. "I ain't going to be a heathen, even if I am on the trail."