rsed and fully
prepared. And he knew that if he should be pinned into a corner by logic
and asked for _his_ proofs, that he could squirm out easily and take the
offensive again by appealing to faith, the last word in sophistry, and a
greater and more powerful weapon than intelligence. _This_ was his game,
and it was fixed; he could not lose if he could arouse enough interest
in a man to hold him to the end of the argument. He continued to drive,
to crowd. "What right have you to think so? What right have you to judge
them? Have you divine insight? Are you inspired? 'Judge not lest ye be
judged,' saith the Lord, and you _dare_ to fly in the face of that great
command!"
"You've got me picking the pea in _this_ game, all right," responded
Hopalong, dropping back on the bench. "But lemme tell you one thing;
Command or no command, devine or not devine, I know when a man has
lived too long, an' when he's going to try to get me. An' all the gospel
sharps south of heaven can't stop me from handing a thief what he's
earned. Go on with the show, but count me out."
While the evangelist warmed to the attack, vaguely realizing that he
had made a mistake in not heeding Dave Wilkes' tip, Hopalong became
conscious of a sense of relief stealing over him and he looked around
wonderingly for the cause. The man with the kerchief had "folded his
tents" and departed; and Hopalong, heaving a sigh of satisfaction,
settled himself more comfortably and gave real attention to the
discourse, although he did not reply to the warm and eloquent man on the
soap box. Suddenly he sat up with a start as he remembered that he had a
long and hard ride before him if he wished to see Wallace, and arising,
strode towards the exit, his chest up and his chin thrust out. The only
reply he made to the excited and personal remarks of the revivalist was
to stop at the door and drop his last dollar into the yeast box before
passing out.
For a moment he stood still and pondered, his head too full of what
he had heard to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Although the evangelist had adopted the wrong method he had gained
more than he knew and Hopalong had something to take home with him and
wrestle out for himself in spare moments; that is, he would have had
but for one thing: As he slowly looked around for his horse he came to
himself with a sharp jerk, and hot profanity routed the germ of religion
incubating in his soul. His horse was missi
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