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Page 38
"An' the minister due here at any minute," added Mrs. Allen.
"Come along, we will take charge of you now," ordered Polly. The
girls gathered in a group about the bride, bustling and
chattering, telling her all men were brutes at time and, looking
at the fat Sheriff, who blushed to the roots of his hair at the
charge, that "Slim Hoover was the worst of the lot." Mrs. Allen
pushed them away, and again fell weeping on Echo's shoulder.
"Hold on now, They ain't a soul goin' to do nothin' for her
except her mother," she whimpered.
"There she goes again," said Jack in disgust.
"He's goin' to take my child away from me," wailed the mother.
Tears were streaming down Echo's cheek. "Don't cry, mother," she
wept.
"No, no, don't cry," echoed the girls.
"It's all for the best," began Polly.
"It's all for the best, it's all for the best," chorused the
group.
"Well, I'll be--" gasped Jack.
"Jack Payson you just ought to be ashamed of yourself," said
Polly, stamping her foot. "You nasty, mean old thing," she threw
in for good measure.
Mrs. Allen led Echo from the room. The girls followed, crying
"You nasty, mean old thing" to the unfortunate bridegroom.
The cowboys enjoyed the scene immensely. It was a bit of human
comedy, totally unexpected. First they imitated the weeping
women, and then laughed uproariously at Jack.
"Did you ever see such darned carryings on," said the bridegroom,
in disgust. "What have I done?"
"Shucks! All mothers is like that," remarked Allen
sympathetically. "They fuss if their girls marry and they fuss
if they don't. Why, my ma carried on something scandalous when
Josephine roped me."
All of the men chuckled except Jack.
"I'm appointed a committees," continued the old rancher, "to sit
up with you till the fatal moment."
"I'm game," responded Jack grimly. "I know what's coming, but I
won't squeal."
"You'll git all that's a-comin' to you," grinned Allen.
Slim had maneuvered until he reached the door blocking Jack's
way. As the bridegroom started to leave the room he took his
hand, and with an assumption of deep dejection and sorrow bade
him "Good-bye."
"Oh, dry up!" laughed Jack, pushing the Sheriff aside. Halting,
he requested: "One thing I want to understand right now, if
you're goin' to fling any old boots after me remove the spurs."
"This yere's a sure enough event, an' I'm goin' to tap the
barrel--an' throw away the bung. Wow!" shouted Sage-brush.
CHAPTER VIII
The Sky Pilot
With the waves of immigration which have rolled Westward from the
more populous East, the minister of the gospel has always been in
the van. Often he combined the functions of the school-teacher
with the duties of the medical missionary. Wherever a dozen
families had settled within a radius of a hundred miles, the
representative of a church was soon to follow. He preached no
creed. His doctrines were as wide as the horizon. Living in the
open air, preaching to congregations gathered from the ends of
the country, dealing with men more unconventional than immoral,
his sermons were concerned with the square deal rather than with
dogma. His influences were incalculable. He made ready the field
for the reapers who gathered the glory with the advance of
refinement. On the frontier he married the children, buried the
dead, consoled the mourners, and rejoiced with those upon whom
fortune smiled. His hardships were many and his rewards nothing.
Of all the fields of human endeavor which built up the West, the
ministry is the only one in which the material returns have not
been commensurate with the labor expended.
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