Page:The trail of the golden horn.djvu/176

172 sionary was standing now behind the table, his tall form drawn to its full height. “But I am glad you have come back. Is there anything I can do for you? How is your leg?”

“It hurts like hell.”

The oath annoyed the missionary, and his eyes flashed with anger. He thought, too, of this man’s treatment of Zell. What effect would mild words have upon such a creature? He recalled how the prophets of old had denounced sinners, and even Christ, Himself, had spoken sternly when it was necessary. He restrained himself, however, wishing to give the man another chance.

“I am sorry you stole from me,” he said. “Had you asked me, I would have given you all that food, and the money, too, for that matter. Why did you commit that sin?”

“Say, are you a fool or bughouse?” Bill questioned. “Ye must be one or the other to talk sich nonsense.”

“I am a fool,” was the unexpected reply. “Yes, like the apostles of old, I am a fool for Christ’s sake, that I might win souls for Him.”

“An’ so ye’ve made a mess of the hull d business, eh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t yer Injuns left ye? If ye hadn’t been sich a fool, maybe they would have thought more of ye.”

“Perhaps they would. Anyway, I did it all for the best.”

“If ye’d used a club instead of so many d— whining prayers, they’d had more respect fer ye. It’s the big stick that does things these days.”

“I don’t believe it.” The words leaped forth with such fiery vehemence that Bill was surprised. The