“Ornery cuss, eh?” he remarked; “and gall, too, eh? Served him blamed well right, in my opinion!”
But when the practical bearing of the parable became clear to him, after long silence, he said, slowly:
“Well, that there seems to indicate that it's about time for me to get a rustle on.” Then, after another silence, he said, hesitatingly, “This here church-buildin' business now, do you think that'll perhaps count, mebbe? I guess not, eh? 'Tain't much, o' course, anyway.” Poor Bill, he was like a child, and The Pilot handled him with a mother's touch.
“What are you best at, Bill?”
“Bronco-bustin' and cattle,” said Bill, wonderingly; “that's my line.”
“Well, Bill, my line is preaching just now, and piloting, you know.” The Pilot's smile was like a sunbeam on a rainy day, for there were tears in his eyes and voice. “And we have just got to be faithful. You see what he says: 'Well done, good and FAITHFUL servant. Thou hast been FAITHFUL.'”
Bill was puzzled.
“Faithful!” he repeated. “Does that mean with the cattle, perhaps?”
“Yes, that's just it, Bill, and with everything else that comes your way.”
And Bill never forgot that lesson, for I heard him, with a kind of quiet enthusiasm, giving it to Hi as a great find. “Now, I call that a fair deal,” he said to his friend; “gives every man a show. No cards up the sleeve.”