Dole stroked his beard and consulted a scrap of paper in the palm of his hand. “Brother Throg-martin,” he called out, suddenly, and a short, fat man on a bench behind Abner rose and cleared his throat.
“Now, brother Throgmartin,” went on the preacher, “jest tell some o' the things you've heerd brother Daniel say that struck you as bein' undoctrinal an' unbecomin' a member of this body.”
“Well, sir,” Throgmartin began, in a thin, high voice that cut the profound silence in the room like a rusty blade, “I don't raily, in my heart o' hearts, believe that Ab—brother Daniel—has the right interpretation of Scriptur'. I remember, after you preached last summer about the sacred teachin' in regard to future punishment, that Ab—brother Daniel—an' me was walkin' home together. Ever' now an' then he'd stop in the road an' laugh right out sudden-like over what you'd contended.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Dole's face hardened. He couldn't doubt that part of the testimony, for it was distinctly Abner's method.
“Yes, sir,” responded Throgmartin, sternly, “he 'lowed what you'd said was as funny to him as a circus clown's talk, an' that it was all he could do to hold in. He 'lowed ef you was to git up in a Darley church with sech talk as that they'd make you preach to niggers. He 'lowed he didn't believe hell was any hot place nohow, an' that he never could be made to believe that the Lord ud create folks an' then barbecue 'em alive through all eternity. He said it sorter turned his stomach to see jest a little lamb roasted at a big political gatherin', an' that no God he believed in would institute sech long torture as you spoke about when you brought up the mustard-seed p'int.”
“He deliberately gives the lie to Holy Scripture, then,” said Dole, almost beside himself with rage. “What else did he say of a blasphemous nature?”
“Oh, I hardly know,” hesitated the witness, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully.
“Well,” snarled Dole, “you hain't told half you said to me this mornin' on the way to meetin'. What was his remark about the stars havin' people on 'em ever' bit an' grain as worthy o' salvation as us all?”
“I disremember his exact words. Perhaps Ab—brother Daniel—will refresh my memory.” Throg-martin was gazing quite respectfully at the offender. “It was at Billy Malone's log-rollin', you know, Ab; me 'n' you'd eat a snack together, an' you said the big poplar had strained yore side an' wanted to git it rubbed.”
Abner looked straight at Dole. The corners of his big, honest mouth were twitching defiantly.