Off came every hat, and some of the boys knelt down, as Mose knelt beside the bench, and said:
“Oh, Lord, here’s Billy Bent needs ‘tendin’ to! He’s panned out his last dust, an’ he seems to hev a purty clear idee that this is his last chance. He wants you to give him a lift, Lord, an’ it’s the opinion of this house thet he needs it. ‘Tain’t none of our bizness what he’s done, an’ ef it wuz, you’d know more about it than we cud tell yer; but it’s mighty sartin that a cuss that’s been in the diggins fur years needs a sight of mendin’ up before he kicks the bucket.”
“That’s so,” responded two or three, very emphatically.
“Billy’s down, Lord, an’ no decent man b’lieves that the Lord ’ud hit a man when he’s down, so there’s one or two things got to be done—either he’s got to be let alone, or he’s got to be helped. Lettin’ him alone won’t do him or anybody else enny good, so helpin’s the holt, an’ as enny one uv us tough fellers would help ef we knew how to, it’s only fair to suppose thet the Lord ’ll do it a mighty sight quicker. Now, what Billy needs is to see the thing in thet light, an’ you ken make him do it a good deal better than we ken. It’s mighty little fur the Lord to do, but it’s meat an’ drink an’ clothes to Billy just now. When we wuz boys, sum uv us read some promises ef you’rn in thet Book thet wes writ a good spell ago by chaps in the Old Country, an’ though Sunday-school teachers and preachers mixed the matter up in our minds, an’ got us all tangle-footed, we know they’re dar, an’ you’ll know what we mean. Now, Lord, Billy’s jest the boy—he’s a hard case, so you can’t find no better stuff to work on—he’s in a bad fix, thet we can’t do nuthin’ fur, so it’s jest yer chance. He ain’t exactly the chap to make an A Number One Angel ef, but he ain’t the man to forget a friend, so he’ll be a handy feller to hev aroun’.”
“Feel any better, Billy?” said Mose, stopping the prayer for a moment.
“A little,” said Billy, feebly; “but you want to tell the whole yarn. I’m sorry for all the wrong I’ve done.”
“He’s sorry for all his deviltry, Lord——”
“An’ I ain’t got nothin’ agin the Judge,” continued the sufferer.
“An’ he don’t bear no malice agin the Judge, which he shouldn’t, seein’ he generally gin as good as he took. An’ the long an’ short of it, Lord, is jest this—he’s a dyin’, an’ he wants a chance to die with his mind easy, an’ nobody else can make it so, so we leave the whole job in your hands, only puttin’ in, fur Billy’s comfort, thet we recollect hearing how yer forgiv’ a dyin’ thief, an’ thet it ain’t likely yer a-goin’ to be harder on a chap thet’s alwas paid fur what he got. Thet’s the whole story. Amen.”
Billy’s hand, rapidly growing cold, reached for that of Mose, and he said, with considerable effort: