Judith of the Godless Valley Part 59

Douglas put in the rest of the week placing his traps up the canyon, and purposely avoided talking with Fowler about his next sermon. He was not surprised, however, when he read the announcement which the preacher gave him to tack up on the post-office door. The sermon was to deal with the modern Magdalene.

Fowler had chosen his subject with the idea of exciting popular interest: his choice was almost perfect. Every soul in Lost Chief was packed into the log chapel long before the services began--every soul, that is, but Inez. Mr. Fowler never had been more eloquent and never, probably, had preached to a more deeply interested congregation. His sermon was a vitriolic arraignment, thinly disguised by Biblical nomenclature, of Inez Rodman.

When Fowler had finished, Young Jeff rose slowly to his feet. Douglas, from his usual place in a rear seat, smiled a little. He liked Young Jeff and liked him best when he rose as now, to do battle for a friend.

"Fowler," said Young Jeff, "I don't like that sermon. We all know who you are driving at, and as for me, you make me very sore. That's a Lost Chief girl and no outsider can come in here and insult her."

"Right! Right!" called several men.

"I didn't expect you to like the sermon," said Mr. Fowler. "I'm through saying pleasant things to you folks. You are going to get straight facts from now on."

"That's as it may be. But you keep your tongue off of Lost Chief women."

"I don't know why you get your back up, Young Jeff!" cried Grandma Brown. "The people of Lost Chief aren't ignorant. They do what they do because they prefer it that way. They know what the world calls their doings. Why be squeamish when Fowler comes in here and just repeats the world's att.i.tude on such doings? Inez is the ruination of our young folks, and we all know it."

"That's right!" called Mrs. Falkner; and Mary Spencer added a low, "Yes!

Yes!"

"She's better than any man in the room, right now!" cried Judith. "If you are going to drive her out, you ought to drive the men out."

"Fine!" called Charleton Falkner.

There was a quick guffaw of laughter, during which John Spencer rose.

"Fowler, I don't want to seem to go against my own son, but I want to say that if you try any more sermons like this one, I'm going to head a committee to run you out of the Valley."

"I'd want to be head of that committee myself. Don't be a hog, John!"

drawled Charleton.

"That's a good idea!" exclaimed Scott Parsons. "If the preacher says, 'Drive Inez out,' we'll say, 'Out with the preacher!'"

"You're all talking like a parcel of children!" said Grandma Brown.

"Come on!" shouted Scott. "The Pa.s.s is open. Let's send him out now!"

Douglas slid to the end of the seat. Fowler stood tensely behind the table, pale, but calm. Peter Knight spoke for the first time.

"I've got an idea. Let's give the sky pilot just one more chance. Let's ask him to preach a sermon next Sunday that we can all feel the right kind of an interest in, or else resign, himself."

Douglas spoke suddenly, "Just what would that kind of a sermon be about, Peter?"

"Well, that's Fowler's job," replied Peter. "He's been at it all his life. He's probably learned by this time the kind of sermons people don't like. I don't want to see him driven out of Lost Chief. I want him to have his chance."

"That's fair enough," exclaimed Charleton. "This isn't such bad fun. Why drive him out while the fun lasts? How about it, John?"

"Fair enough!" agreed John.

"Nothing doing!" cried Scott.

"Now, Scott," warned Charleton amiably, "you run the bull business and you'll have your hands full. We old regulars will handle the preacher."

"Huh!" sniffed Grandma Brown. "Wonderful! 'Old regulars!' Well, don't any of you old regulars forget that Douglas Spencer has grown up and that his brand mark is the same as his grandfather's. I think you all are acting like a parcel of children!"

n.o.body spoke for a moment. Douglas watched Mr. Fowler anxiously, but the old preacher appeared to have no weapons with which to meet the occasion. Douglas felt that the situation was getting out of hand. He knew how to meet physical resistance, but he realized that he was only a novice in the sort of strategy that controls by mental superiority alone. He ground his teeth together.

"I'm young yet and I'll learn! See if I don't!" Then he pressed his lips together and waited.

Peter broke the silence.

"How about it, Fowler?"

"I'll agree to nothing. I am through compromising." The old man's eyes were blazing in a white face.

"You're foolis.h.!.+" exclaimed the postmaster. "But we insist on giving you one more chance. Let's see what you can do for us next Sunday. I move we adjourn." And the meeting broke up with a considerable amount of laughter.

There was very little discussion of the situation in the cabin, that night. Mr. Fowler seemed inexpressibly tired and broken, and Douglas, with a sudden welling of pity to his throat, persuaded him to go to bed.

Nor did he, later, interfere with the old preacher's choice of a sermon.

There was a deep conviction growing within Douglas that the religious issue of the situation was entirely beyond his own directing.

Peter, however, had no such conviction and he took considerable pains to try to get Fowler to go back to the subject of immortality. But the old man had the bit in his teeth and there was no holding him. The post-office door on Sat.u.r.day bore the announcement that Sunday's sermon would be on The Sins of Lost Chief. Just below the preacher's placard was an invitation from Jimmy Day for Lost Chief to attend his birthday dance on Sat.u.r.day evening.

Douglas told of the invitation at the supper table. Mr. Fowler made no comment, but old Johnny said, "I suppose Scott will be taking Judith."

"I don't see why!" exclaimed Douglas suddenly.

"You're all rejus like in the church now. You ain't got the time for womaning. Are you still fond of Jude?" peering at Douglas anxiously.

"I guess you know how I feel about Judith, Johnny," said Doug in a low voice.

"Like I used to feel about her mother?" The old man put a hand on Doug's arm.

Douglas nodded.

"And would it break your heart if Scott or any other man got her?"

Douglas nodded again, then rose. "I think I'll run down to see her a minute. I won't be gone long."

Mr. Fowler smiled. "Good luck to you, boy!"

"Keep your fingers crossed for me," said Doug, slamming out of the door.

Judith kept her finger in "Vanity Fair." "We were all going in a crowd,"

she said. "You've been cutting us a good deal lately. Why not come in out of the wet and be just one of us?"

"I want to take you, myself," insisted Douglas in a low voice. They were standing in the kitchen, with the door into the living-room closed. "I want you to wear that white dress with the thing-ma-jiggers on the waist and your hair all loose around your face. And I'm going to make love to you every minute."

His eyes were entirely earnest. Judith smiled, then drew a sudden short breath. The color deepened in her cheeks, then retreated.