his soul and talked little and prayed
much. His victory was complete.

In the midst of this excitement Jake received a short but significant
letter from Evangelist Blank. It ran thus:

Dear Brother Benton:

In accordance with my promise to you nearly a year ago, I am now in a
position to hold your revival. I will arrive in Dobbinsville August 2.
Please meet me at the train.

Your Brother in Christ,--Evangelist Blank.

Jake read this scanty letter through tears of joy. He was unspeakably
happy. He had prayed for a year, and now his prayers were on the verge
of being answered. A holiness preacher, mysterious being, was actually
to set foot on Mount Olivet soil. The doctrine of full salvation was to
invade the precincts of sin-you-must religion.

But where was Evangelist Blank to preach? Not in Mount Olivet, to be
sure. About a quarter of a mile from Mount Olivet Church was a section
of land known in that country as Public Land. Here in the center of an
old, unused, unfenced field was a thick clump of post oak sapplings,
with heavy foliage. This spot was to be the scene of many an interesting
happening, a few of which shall be mentioned before this story closes
and many of which shall not. As soon as Jake was sufficiently recovered
from the beating administered by the Deacon, he, in company with Nolan
Gray and several others who were either friends or embracers of the
doctrine of full salvation, went to this spot and worked for a number of
days building a brush arbor, which was to serve the purpose of a
meeting-house. Long poles were tied from tree to tree to make a
framework. Then other poles were laid across from the frame-poles to
furnish a support for the brush, which was thrown on top. A sort of
tabernacle was thus effected which served the purpose well. Oil torches
were hung on the upright poles to furnish light. Long boards were
brought from a sawmill near by and fastened on stakes driven into the
ground; these served for benches. The arbor would seat about five
hundred people.

Everything was in readiness for the long-expected meetings. All there
was to do was to wait for the 2nd of August to come, and that was hard
to do. Finally it came. That afternoon when the two-coached train rolled
up to the little red station at Dobbinsville, Jake Benton stood on the
depot platform. His heart beat a rat-a-tat-tat against his chest. As the
train slowed up and Jake saw through its window the face of a man
correspondi