Peter broke the silence.
"How about it, Fowler?"
"I'll agree to nothing. I am through compromising." The old man's eyes were blazing in a white face.
"You're foolish!" exclaimed the postmaster. "But we insist on giving you one more chance. Let's see what you can do for us next Sunday. I move we adjourn." And the meeting broke up with a considerable amount of laughter.
There was very little discussion of the situation in the cabin, that night. Mr. Fowler seemed inexpressibly tired and broken, and Douglas, with a sudden welling of pity to his throat, persuaded him to go to bed. Nor did he, later, interfere with the old preacher's choice of a sermon. There was a deep conviction growing within Douglas that the religious issue of the situation was entirely beyond his own directing.
Peter, however, had no such conviction and he took considerable pains to try to get Fowler to go back to the subject of immortality. But the old man had the bit in his teeth and there was no holding him. The post-office door on Saturday bore the announcement that Sunday's sermon would be on The Sins of Lost Chief. Just below the preacher's placard was an invitation from Jimmy Day for Lost Chief to attend his birthday dance on Saturday evening.
Douglas told of the invitation at the supper table. Mr. Fowler made no comment, but old Johnny said, "I suppose Scott will be taking Judith."
"I don't see why!" exclaimed Douglas suddenly.
"You're all rejus like in the church now. You ain't got the time for womaning. Are you still fond of Jude?" peering at Douglas anxiously.
"I guess you know how I feel about Judith, Johnny," said Doug in a low voice.