o Amidon by
reason of the fact that Stevens had placed one foot against the Deacon's
stomach and hurled that august officer violently to the floor.

"Let every test of life be applied," said the Sovereign Pontiff.
"Perchance some higher will than ours decrees his preservation. Take the
body hence for a time; if possible, restore him to life, and we will
consider his fate."

The recess which followed was clearly necessary to afford an opportunity
for the calming of the risibilities of the Martyrs. The stage, too, had
to be reset. Amidon's ethnological studies had not equaled his reading
in _belles-lettres_, and he was unable to see the deep significance of
these rites from an historical standpoint, and that here was a survival
of those orgies to which our painted and skin-clad ancestors devoted
themselves in spasms of religious frenzy, gazed at by the cave-bear and
the mammoth. The uninstructed Amidon regarded them as inconceivable
horse-play. While thus he mused, Stevens, who was still hoodwinked and
being greatly belectured on the virtue of Faith and the duty of
Obedience, reentered on his ordeal.

He was now informed by the officer at the other end of the room that
every man must ascend into the Mountains of Temptation and be tested,
before he could be pronounced fit for companionship with Martyrs.
Therefore, a weary climb heavenward was before him, and a great trial of
his fidelity. On his patience, daring and fortitude depended all his
future in the Order. He was marched to a ladder and bidden to ascend.

"I," said the Deacon Militant, "upon this companion stair will accompany
you."

But there was no other ladder and the Deacon Militant had to stand upon
a chair.

Up the ladder labored Stevens, but, though he climbed manfully, he
remained less than a foot above the floor. The ladder went down like a
treadmill, as Stevens climbed--it was an endless ladder rolled down on
Stevens' side and up on the other. The Deacon Militant, from his perch
on the chair, encouraged Stevens to climb faster so as not to be
outstripped. With labored breath and straining muscles he climbed, the
Martyrs rolling on the floor in merriment all the more violent because
silent. Amidon himself laughed to see this strenuous climb, so
strikingly like human endeavor, which puts the climber out of breath,
and raises him not a whit--except in temperature. At the end of perhaps
five minutes, when Stevens might well have believed himself a hundr