"Fine! She'll be tickled to death to see you."
"And I her." The old gent was very cheerful. Such a trip was much to him. A life spent among the simple black people to whom he preached afforded little contrast compared with what was about him now. And, pompous by disposition, he was thrilled by the diversity. Baptiste decided thereupon to try to make his sojourn an agreeable one.
"Now, there is an old neighbor of mine in town with a buggy, and I'll see him and figure to have him take you out with him, as I am in on horseback."
"Very well," returned the Elder, and Baptiste went for the neighbor who happened to be a German with a very conspicuous voice. He found him at a saloon where the old scout was pretty well "pickled" from imbibing too freely in red liquor.
"Sure thing," he roared in his big voice when Baptiste stated his errand. "Bring him down here and I'll buy him a drink."
"But he's a preacher," cautioned Baptiste with a laugh.
"A preacher! Well, I'll be damned!" exclaimed the German, humorously. Whereupon he ordered drinks for the house, and two for himself. Baptiste grinned.
"I shall now depart," essayed the German, swaying not too steadily before the bar, and raising his glass, "to become sanctimonious and good," and drained his glass. The crowd roared.
"Where is he?" called the German loudly, as he drew his team to a stop before the hotel. Baptiste got out, went in and called to the Reverend. The other came forward quickly, carrying his bags and other accessories.
"Ah-ha!" roared the German from the buggy, sociably, "So there you are!"