e him. Very soon he was sleeping quietly at my feet. He
had generously requested me to awake him when he had slept an hour or
so, offering then to take my place. Thanking him, I said: "Get some
sleep if you can; there is none, however, for me to-night."--I
remembered too well those taunting words, and could not have slept had I
tried.

As the hours slowly rolled along, I could not but think of the strange
transitions of the last few weeks. Not six weeks before this I was the
pastor of a large church in a flourishing city. Then I was living in a
beautiful home with all the comforts and conveniences of civilisation
around me, where the vigilant policemen paced their various rounds,
while we in peace and safety rested without one thought of danger; now I
was in the far West, away from the society and comforts of other days,
on the boundless plains where dangers lurk, and lawless, thievish
vagabonds abound. Not long ago I was in my own pulpit preaching to
large congregations; now, during the quiet hours of this night, I was
sitting on a bundle of dried prairie grass in an old barn, defending a
lot of horses from horse thieves. Strange transformations are these.
Truly life is a play, and we, the actors, little know what parts we
shall next be called on to assume.

Thus I mused; bub hush! What noise is that? Surely it cannot be that a
cunning horse thief would come so deliberately this beautiful starlit
night and try at the principal door to seek an entrance. No stealthy
Indian clever at horse stealing would begin his operations in such a
way.

But there is the sound, nevertheless. Evidently it is that of a hand
feeling for the latch.

Strict orders had been given at the camp, that under no consideration
should any one of our party approach the barn after dark. So, here was
an intruder who must be promptly dealt with, before he could draw and
fire.

Springing up and lifting the rifle to my shoulder, I waited until the
intruder's hand had found the latch. Then the door swung open and there
he stood; a very tall man, clearly outlined in the starry night.

My first grim resolve was to fire at once. Then there came the thought:
"It is a terrible thing suddenly to send a soul into eternity. Perhaps
he is not a horse thief. He may be some lone wanderer on the prairies,
who, seeing this old barn, desires to get under its shelter out of the
heavy dews. You have him covered with your rifle; even if he is a
des