And they did. They got an old show case of glass, put the charred straw in it, and built an open box work around it just where it fell in front of the pulpit.
Then a revival broke out that completely paralysed the industries of Campbell county. Every negro stopped work and went to that church. Uncle Josh didn’t have to preach or to plead. They came in troops towards the magic altar, whose fame and mystery had thrilled every superstitious soul with its power. The benches were all moved out and the whole church floor given up to mourners. Uncle Josh had an easy time walking around just adding a few terrifying hints to trembling sinners, or helping to hold some strong sister when she had “come through,” with so much glory in her bones that there was danger she would hurt somebody.
After a week the matter became so serious that the white people set in motion an investigation of the affair. Dick had thrown out a mysterious hint that he knew some things that were very funny.
“Doan you tell nobody!” he would solemnly say to Charlie.
And then he would lie down on the grass and roll and laugh. At length by dint of perseverance, and a bribe of a quarter, the Preacher induced Dick to explain the mystery. He did, and it broke up the meeting.
Uncle Josh’s fury knew no bounds. He was heartbroken at the sudden collapse of his revival, chagrined at the recollection of his own terror at the fire, and fearful of an avalanche of backsliders from the meeting among those who had professed even with the greatest glory.
He demanded that the Preacher should turn Dick over to him for correction. The Preacher took a few hours to consider whether he should whip him himself or turn him over to Uncle Josh. Dick heard Uncle Josh’s demand. Out behind the stable he and Charlie held a council of war.
“You go see Miss Mar’get fur me, en git up close to her, en tell her taint right ter ’low no low down black nigger ter whip me!”
“All right Dick, I will,” agreed Charlie.
“Case ef ole Josh beats me I gwine ter run away. I nebber git ober dat.”