the open air, with your permission,
sir."

Wainwright looked at him. "Perhaps he was weighting himself down with
water," he thought.

The brother had, indeed, very little else to make weight with: his small
body was enveloped in a long linen duster, his head was crowned with a
tall hat; he might have weighed one hundred pounds. He could not brace
himself when they came to rough places, because his feet did not reach
the floor; but he held on manfully with both hands, and begged his
companion's pardon for sliding against him so often.

"I am not greatly accustomed to the stage," he said; "I generally travel
on horseback."

"Is there much zeal in your district?" said Wainwright. It was the
question he always asked when he was placed next to a clergyman, varying
it only by "parish," "diocese," or "circuit," according to appearances.

"Zeal," said his companion--"zeal, sir? Why, there isn't anything else!"

"I am glad to hear it," replied Wainwright.

The little minister took the remark in good faith.

"A believer?" he asked.

"Certainly," replied Stephen.

"Let me shake you by the hand, brother. This is a noble country in which
to believe. Among these great and solemn peaks, who can disbelieve or
who go contrary to the will of the Lord?"

Stephen made no answer, and the brother, lifting up his voice after a
silence, cried again, "Who?" And, after a moment's pause, and more
fervently, a second "Who?" Then a third, in a high, chanting key. It
seemed as if he would go on for ever.

"Well," said Stephen, "if you will have answer, I suppose I might say
the moonlight whisky-makers."

The little brother came down from the heights immediately, and glanced
at his companion. "Acquainted with the country, sir?" he asked in a
business-like tone.

"Not at all," said Stephen.

"Going to stay at Ellerby awhile, perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

"Reckon you will like to ride about; you will need horses. They will
cheat you in the village; better apply to me. Head is my name--Bethuel
Head; everybody knows me." Then he shut his eyes and began to sing a
hymn of eight or ten verses, the brethren below, hearing him chanting
alone on the top, joining in the refrain with hearty good will. As soon
as he had finished, he said again, in a whisper, "Better apply to me,"
at the same time giving his companion a touch with the elbow. Then he
leaned over and began a slanting conversation with the brother who
occupied the window-seat on his