“I know you've always said that,” Trawley answered, “an' I used to think maybe you was right, bein' sech a big man in your way; but I know different now. Say, Jim Hoag, what do you make o' Paul Rundel?”
“Make o' 'im—what do you mean?”
“I want to know what could 'a' fetched 'imback here to give up to the halter like he did unless—unless he was led by some'n in 'im bigger, wider, an' higher than jest his mortal body?”
Hoag smiled significantly, and idly tapped the leg of his trousers with his whip. “Just betwixt us two, Sid, I never have knowed just what Paul's game was. I saw he was a good man for the job I had open, an' I tuck 'im in. I never have bothered about the tale he told. That was his lookout. He's got a clear head for business. He understands human nature, an' he was sharp enough, I reckon, to know that nine juries out o' ten would be lenient in a case like his'n. He was homesick for these old mountains, an' was willin' to serve a year or two an' be done with it.”
“That won't do at all—not at all,” Trawley protested, with firmness. “I've never seed an eye like his'n in a human head. He heard I was ailin', an' come in here last week friendly like to talk to me. Well”—Trawley averted his face and sat linking his fingers like wooden prongs—“I just don't know how to tell you about it, Cap. He said—Paul said some o' the quarest, most comfortin' things that ever a sick man heard. I want to see 'im ag'in—I just must. I've been to preachers, an' to old Christian men like Tye over thar, an' they all gave me the same stale song-and-dance; but this young fellow, with his shinin' face an' happy way, had some'n fresh. Why, he said that the Lord just couldn't be hard on any repentant soul He'd ever created. I wish I could tell you how Paul fixed it, but I can't remember. He said the ugly sights I'd seed was just in me—just in my own mind—an' that as soon as I seed that I was part an' parcel of God Hisse'f all them gloomy shadows would pass away an' I'd see visions o' true light. He cited the thief on the cross—you remember about that feller? He was dyin' thar by the Saviour, you know, an' the Lord said to him, 'This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise.' As Paul fixed it up nothin' the thief had done in days gone by was to be helt ag'in' 'im—nothin'! He says it is all a matter of wrong thought or right thought. He told a purty tale that was sorter like a new-fashioned parable. He said, take two brothers, for instance. A lawyer comes away across the ocean from the old country an' tells 'em, on his word an' honor, that a kinsman has died over thar an' left 'em a million apiece, but that they will have to be patient an' wait a year before the money will be paid into the'r hands. Now, Paul said one of 'em, for example, would believe the lawyer an' spend his year full o' happy expectations, but t'other wouldn't trust the lawyer's statement, an' in his doubt an' uncertainty his year would be the most miserable he ever spent. Both come in at the end on the same actual level, you see, Cap, but the trustin' fellow got in twelve months quicker—that's all. Paul says that illustrates what is called havin' the kingdom of heaven within you—it's our'n if we'll just believe it's our'n an' move in an' take possession.”
Hoag's countenance was full of shadow. For a moment he seemed undecided as to what to say. He whipped his leg steadily and cleared his throat. One of the negro attendants leaned in at the door and asked Trawley a question, and the liveryman replied sharply:
“Give 'im any pair he wants, an' don't disturb me ag'in while I'm talkin'.” He uttered a low groan as the negro withdrew and looked up at his frowning companion. “I tell you, Jim Hoag, when a man gits in trouble like I am in, a puny thing like whether he rents a turnout, or a hub is split, or a tire off, amounts to so little that it makes 'im mad to think about it.”
“Looky' here, Sid!” Hoag's beetling brows ran together, and his tone was fierce and direct. “I want to git at this thing right now, so as to know what to depend on. Like the rest of us, you are under oath of secrecy to the klan. Did you say anything to Paul Rundel to lead him to suspect that—”
“No, I didn't,” Trawley groaned. “I kept it all back, an' thar's right whar I think my chief trouble lies. I've taken an oath that binds me to the devil an' his imps. Paul says, to git the real thing you've got to go at it with a clean breast, an' I can't be that way with you fellows tellin' me to come to your secret meetin's an' layin' claim to me. I hain't give you all away, an' I ain't goin' to, but I'm in a bad fix. I want to clean up an' git right, but I don't know how. It seems wrong to break my oath, an' wuss to keep it.”
“I can say to you right here, Sid”—Hoag moved toward the door, a dark, red flush on his face—“if you do betray our body you'll regret it, an' you know well enough why.”