d pray for us and never
forget," this strange service was brought to a close.

After the missionary had stepped out, the whole affair was discussed
with great warmth. Hi Kendal thought "The Pilot didn't have no fair
show," maintaining that when he was "ropin' a steer he didn't want no
blanked tenderfoot to be shovin' in his rope like Bill there." But Bill
steadily maintained his position that "the story of that there picnic
was a little too unusual" for him. Bruce was trying meanwhile to beguile
The Duke into a discussion of the physics and metaphysics of the case.
But The Duke refused with quiet contempt to be drawn into a region where
he felt himself a stranger. He preferred poker himself, if Bruce
cared to take a hand; and so the evening went on, with the theological
discussion by Hi and Bill in a judicial, friendly spirit in one corner,
while the others for the most part played poker.

When the missionary returned late there were only a few left in the
room, among them The Duke and Bruce, who was drinking steadily and
losing money. The missionary's presence seemed to irritate him, and he
played even more recklessly than usual, swearing deeply at every loss.
At the door the missionary stood looking up into the night sky and
humming softly "Sun of My Soul," and after a few minutes The Duke joined
in humming a bass to the air till Bruce could contain himself no longer.

"I say," he called out, "this isn't any blanked prayer-meeting, is it?"

The Duke ceased humming, and, looking at Bruce, said quietly: "Well,
what is it? What's the trouble?"

"Trouble!" shouted Bruce. "I don't see what hymn-singing has to do with
a poker game."

"Oh, I see! I beg pardon! Was I singing?" said The Duke. Then after a
pause he added, "You're quite right. I say, Bruce, let's quit. Something
has got on to your nerves." And coolly sweeping his pile into his
pocket, he gave up the game. With an oath Bruce left the table, took
another drink, and went unsteadily out to his horse, and soon we heard
him ride away into the darkness, singing snatches of the hymn and
swearing the most awful oaths.

The missionary's face was white with horror. It was all new and horrible
to him.

"Will he get safely home?" he asked of The Duke.

"Don't you worry, youngster," said The Duke, in his loftiest manner,
"he'll get along."

The luminous, dreamy eyes grew hard and bright as they looked The Duke
in the face.

"Yes, I shall worry; but you ought to