Judson Roberts swaggered across from the bed, stood with his hand on Elmer’s shoulder. “They all say it, Hell-cat! You see it takes a sure-enough dyed-in-the-wool brave man to be big enough to give Jesus a shot at him, and admit he’s licked when he tries to fight God! It takes a man with guts to kneel down and admit his worthlessness when all the world is jeering at him! And you haven’t got that kind of courage, Elmer. Oh, you think you’re such a big cuss—”
Old Jud swung him around; Old Jud’s hand was crushing his shoulder. “You think you’re too husky, too good, to associate with the poor little sniveling gospel-mongers, don’t you! You could knock out any of ’em, couldn’t you! Well, I’m one of ’em. Want to knock me out?”
With one swift jerk Roberts had his coat off, stood with a striped silk shirt revealing his hogshead torso.
“You bet, Hell-cat! I’m willing to fight you for the glory of God! God needs you! Can you think of anything finer for a big husky like you than to spend his life bringing poor, weak, sick, scared folks to happiness? Can’t you see how the poor little skinny guys and all the kiddies would follow you, and praise you and admire you, you old son of a gun? Am I a little sneaking Christian? Can you lick me? Want to fight it out?”
“No, gee, Mr. Roberts—”
“Judson, you big hunk of cheese, Old Jud!”
“No, gee, Judson, I guess you got me trimmed! I pack a pretty good wallop, but I’m not going to take any chance on you!”
“All right, old son. Still think that all religious folks are crabs?”
“No.”
“And weaklings and pikers?”