the one, and say a prayer, and oh, come to me quick, Bill. Your
Pilot."

Bill gradually pulled himself together, announced in a strange voice,
"The Pilot can't come," handed me the Psalm, and said:

"Make them sing."

It was that grand Psalm for all hill peoples, "I to the hills will lift
mine eyes," and with wondering faces they sang the strong, steadying
words. After the Psalm was over the people sat and waited, Bill looked
at the Hon. Fred Ashley, then at Robbie Muir, then said to me in a low
voice:

"Kin you make a prayer?"

I shook my head, ashamed as I did so of my cowardice.

Again Bill paused, then said:

"The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer. Kin anyone make one?"

Again dead, solemn silence.

Then Hi, who was near the back, said, coming to his partner's help:

"What's the matter with you trying, yourself, Bill?"

The red began to come up in Bill's white face.

"'Taint in my line. But The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer, and
I'm going to stay with the game." Then, leaning on the pulpit, he said:

"Let's pray," and began:

"God Almighty, I ain't no good at this, and perhaps you'll understand if
I don't put things right." Then a pause followed, during which I heard
some of the women beginning to sob.

"What I want to say," Bill went on, "is, we're mighty glad about this
church, which we know it's you and The Pilot that's worked it. And we're
all glad to chip in."

Then again he paused, and, looking up, I saw his hard, gray face working
and two tears stealing down his cheeks. Then he started again:

"But about The Pilot--I don't want to persoom--but if you don't mind,
we'd like to have him stay--in fact, don't see how we kin do without
him--look at all the boys here; he's just getting his work in and is
bringin' 'em right along, and, God Almighty, if you take him away it
might be a good thing for himself, but for us--oh, God," the voice
quivered and was silent "Amen."

Then someone, I think it must have been the Lady Charlotte, began: "Our
Father," and all joined that could join, to the end. For a few moments
Bill stood up, looking at them silently. Then, as if remembering his
duty, he said:

"This here church is open. Excuse me."

He stood at the door, gave a word of direction to Hi, who had followed
him out, and leaping on his bronco shook him out into a hard gallop.

The Swan Creek Church was opened. The form of service may not have been
correct, but, if great love counts f