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 hurt you to emulate, Brother Gantry—but he's somewhat shy in contact with sin-hardened common people.

"Now, boys, this is just a small church, but never forget that it's priceless souls that I'm entrusting to your keeping; and who knows but that you may kindle there such a fire as may some day illumine all the world . . . providing, Brother Gantry, you eliminate the worldly things I suspect you of indulging in!"

Elmer was delighted. It was his first real appointment. In Kansas, this summer, he had merely filled other people's pulpits for two or three weeks at a time.

He'd show 'em! Some of these fellows that thought he was just a mouth-artist! Show 'em how he could build up church membership, build up the collections, get 'em all going with his eloquence—and, of course, carry the message of salvation into darkened hearts.

It would be mighty handy to have the extra ten a week—and maybe more if he could kid the Schoenheim deacons properly.

His first church. . . his own. . . and Frank had to take his orders!

In the virginal days of 1905 section gangs went out to work on the railway line not by gasoline power but on a hand-car, a platform with two horizontal bars worked up and down like pump-handles.

On a hand-car Elmer and Frank Shallard set out for their first charge. They did not look particularly clerical as they sawed at the handles; it was a chilly November Sunday morning, and they wore shabby greatcoats. Elmer had a moth-eaten plush cap over his ears, Frank exhibited absurd ear-muffs under a more absurd derby, and both had borrowed red flannel mittens from the section gang.

The morning was icily brilliant. Apple orchards glistened in the frost, and among the rattling weed-stalks by the worm-fences quail were whistling.

Elmer felt his lungs free of library dust as he pumped. He broadened his shoulders, rejoiced in sweating, felt that his ministry among real men and living life was begun. He pitied