"Well, what about your deal with me last Monday night?" said Williams, angrily.

"Let's see. Last Monday night," said Bill, apparently thinking back; "can't say as I remember any pertickler deal. Any ov you fellers remember?"

No one could recall any deal.

"You don't remember getting any paper from me, I suppose?" said Williams, sarcastically.

"Paper! Why, I believe I've got that there paper onto my person at this present moment," said Bill, diving into his pocket and drawing out Williams' estimate. He spent a few moments in careful scrutiny.

"There ain't no deal onto this as I can see," said Bill, gravely passing the paper to the boys, who each scrutinized it and passed it on with a shake of the head or a remark as to the absence of any sign of a deal.

Williams changed his tone. For his part, he was indifferent in the matter.

Then Bill made him an offer.

"Ov course, I believe in supportin' home-grown industries, and if you can touch my figger I'd be uncommonly glad to give you the contract."

But Bill's figure, which was quite fifty per cent. lower than Williams'

best offer, was rejected as quite impossible.

"Thought I'd make you the offer," said Bill, carelessly, "seein' as you're institootin' the trade and the boys here 'll all be buildin'

more or less, and I believe in standin' up for local trades and manufactures." There were nods of approval on all sides, and Williams was forced to accept, for Bill began arranging with the Hill brothers and Hi to make an early start on Monday. It was a great triumph, but Bill displayed no sign of elation; he was rather full of sympathy for Williams, and eager to help on the lumber business as a local "institooshun."

Second in command in the church building enterprise stood Lady Charlotte, and under her labored the Hon. Fred, The Duke, and, indeed, all the company of the Noble Seven. Her home became the centre of a new type of social life. With exquisite tact, and much was needed for this kind of work, she drew the bachelors from their lonely shacks and from their wild carousals, and gave them a taste of the joys of a pure home-life, the first they had had since leaving the old homes years ago.

And then she made them work for the church with such zeal and diligence that her husband and The Duke declared that ranching had become quite an incidental interest since the church-building had begun. But The Pilot went about with a radiant look on his pale face, while Bill gave it forth as his opinion, "though she was a leetle high in the action, she could hit an uncommon gait."

With such energy did Bill push the work of construction that by the first of December the church stood roofed, sheeted, floored and ready for windows, doors and ceiling, so that The Pilot began to hope that he should see the desire of his heart fulfilled--the church of Swan Creek open for divine service on Christmas Day.

During these weeks there was more than church-building going on, for while the days were given to the shaping of logs, and the driving of nails and the planing of boards, the long winter evenings were spent in talk around the fire in my shack, where The Pilot for some months past had made his home and where Bill, since the beginning of the church building, had come "to camp." Those were great nights for The Pilot and Bill, and, indeed, for me, too, and the other boys, who, after a day's work on the church, were always brought in by Bill or The Pilot.

Great nights for us all they were. After bacon and beans and bannocks, and occasionally potatoes, and rarely a pudding, with coffee, rich and steaming, to wash all down, pipes would follow, and then yarns of adventures, possible and impossible, all exciting and wonderful, and all received with the greatest credulity.

If, however, the powers of belief were put to too great a strain by a tale of more than ordinary marvel, Bill would follow with one of such utter impossibility that the company would feel that the limit had been reached, and the yarns would cease. But after the first week most of the time was given to The Pilot, who would read to us of the deeds of the mighty men of old, who had made and wrecked empires.

What happy nights they were to those cowboys, who had been cast up like driftwood upon this strange and lonely shore! Some of them had never known what it was to have a thought beyond the work and sport of the day. And the world into which The Pilot was ushering them was all new and wonderful to them. Happy nights, without a care, but that The Pilot would not get the ghastly look out of his face, and laughed at the idea of going away till the church was built. And, indeed, we would all have sorely missed him, and so he stayed.

CHAPTER XXI.

HOW BILL HIT THE TRAIL

When "the crowd" was with us The Pilot read us all sorts of tales of adventures in all lands by heroes of all ages, but when we three sat together by our fire The Pilot would always read us tales of the heroes of sacred story, and these delighted Bill more than those of any of the ancient empires of the past. He had his favorites. Abraham, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, never failed to arouse his admiration. But Jacob was to him always "a mean cuss," and David he could not appreciate. Most of all he admired Moses and the Apostle Paul, whom he called "that little chap." But, when the reading was about the One Great Man that moved majestic amid the gospel stories, Bill made no comments; He was too high for approval.

By and by Bill began to tell these tales to the boys, and one night, when a quiet mood had fallen upon the company, Bill broke the silence.

"Say, Pilot, where was it that the little chap got mixed up into that riot?"

"Riot!" said The Pilot.

"Yes; you remember when he stood off the whole gang from the stairs?"

"Oh, yes, at Jerusalem!"

"Yes, that's the spot. Perhaps you would read that to the boys. Good yarn! Little chap, you know, stood up and told 'em they were all sorts of blanked thieves and cut-throats, and stood 'em off. Played it alone, too."

Most of the boys failed to recognize the story in its new dress. There was much interest.

"Who was the duck? Who was the gang? What was the row about?"

"The Pilot here'll tell you. If you'd kind o' give 'em a lead before you begin, they'd catch on to the yarn better." This last to The Pilot, who was preparing to read.

"Well, it was at Jerusalem," began The Pilot, when Bill interrupted:

"If I might remark, perhaps it might help the boys on to the trail mebbe, if you'd tell 'em how the little chap struck his new gait." So he designated the Apostle's conversion.

Then The Pilot introduced the Apostle with some formality to the company, describing with such vivid touches his life and early training, his sudden wrench from all he held dear, under the stress of a new conviction, his magnificent enthusiasm and courage, his tenderness and patience, that I was surprised to find myself regarding him as a sort of hero, and the boys were all ready to back him against any odds. As The Pilot read the story of the Arrest at Jerusalem, stopping now and then to picture the scene, we saw it all and were in the thick of it. The raging crowd hustling and beating the life out of the brave little man, the sudden thrust of the disciplined Roman guard through the mass, the rescue, the pause on the stairway, the calm face of the little hero beckoning for a hearing, the quieting of the frantic, frothing mob, the fearless speech--all passed before us. The boys were thrilled.

"Good stuff, eh?"

"Ain't he a daisy?"

"Daisy! He's a whole sunflower patch!"

"Yes," drawled Bill, highly appreciating their marks of approval.

"That's what I call a partickler fine character of a man. There ain't no manner of insecks on to him."

"You bet!" said Hi.

"I say," broke in one of the boys, who was just emerging from the tenderfoot stage, "o' course that's in the Bible, ain't it?"

The Pilot assented.

"Well, how do you know it's true?"

The Pilot was proceeding to elaborate his argument when Bill cut in somewhat more abruptly than was his wont.

"Look here, young feller!" Bill's voice was in the tone of command. The man looked as he was bid. "How do you know anything's true? How do you know The Pilot here's true when he speaks? Can't you tell by the feel?

You know by the sound of his voice, don't you?" Bill paused and the young fellow agreed readily.

"Well how do you know a blanked son of a she jackass when you see him?"

Again Bill paused. There was no reply.

"Well," said Bill, resuming his deliberate drawl. "I'll give you the information without extra charge. It's by the sound he makes when he opens his blanked jaw."

"But," went on the young skeptic, nettled at the laugh that went round, "that don't prove anything. You know," turning to The Pilot, "that there are heaps of people who don't believe the Bible."

The Pilot nodded.