hall We Gather at the River?' Of course
we're already gathered, but the song sort o' fits. No gammon now,
fellers; everybody sings that knows her."

The result was discouraging. Few in the audience knew any hymn, much
less this one. Only three or four managed to hoarsely drawl through
two verses.

The hymn finished--as far as anybody could sing it--Mr. Allison said:

"Now, fellers, we'll pray. Everybody down!"

Only a few knelt. Among the congregation were some who regarded the
affair as sacrilegious, and others of the independent frontier type
were unaccustomed to dictation. However, a slight narrowing of the
cold black eyes and a significant sweep of the six-shooter brought
every man of them to his knees, with heads bowed over faro lay-outs and
on monte tables.

"O Lord!" began Allison, "this yere's a mighty bad neck o' woods, an' I
reckon You know it. Fellers don' think enough o' their souls to build
a church, an' when a pa'son comes here they don' treat him half white.
O Lord! make these fellers see that when they gits caught in the final
round-up an' drove over the last divide, they don' stan' no sort o'
show to git to stay on the heavenly ranch 'nless they believes an'
builds a house to pray an' preach in. Right here I subscribes a
hundred dollars to build a church, an' if airy one o' these yere
fellers don' tote up accordin' to his means, O Lord, make it Your
pers'n'l business to see that he wears the Devil's brand and ear mark
an' never gits another drop o' good spring water.

"Of course, I allow You knows I don' sport no wings myself, but I want
to do what's right ef You'll sort o' give a shove the proper way. An'
one thing I want You to understan'; Clay Allison's got a fast horse an'
is tol'able handy with his rope, and he's goin' to run these fellers
into Your corral even if he has to rope an' drag 'em there. Amen.
Everybody git up!"

While he prayed in the most reverent tone he could command, and while
his attitude was one of simple supplication, Mr. Allison never removed
his keen eyes from the congregation.

"Reckon we'll sing again, boys, an' I want a little more of it. Le's
see what you-all knows."

At length six or eight rather sheepishly owned knowing "Old Hundred,"
and it was sung.

Then the sermon was in order.

"Fellers," he began, "my ole mammy used to tell me that the only show
to shake the devil off your trail was to believe everythin' the Bible
says. What yer mammy tel