IV.
The news, grotesquely exaggerated, flew about the next day, and atnight, though it was very cold and windy, the house was jammed tosuffocation. On these lonely prairies life is so devoid of anything butwork, dramatic entertainments are so few, and appetite so keen, that atemperature of twenty degrees below zero is no bar to a trip of tenmiles. The protracted meeting was the only recreation for many of them.The gossip before and after service was a delight not to be lost, andthis last sensation was dramatic enough to bring out old men and womenwho had not dared to go to church in winter for ten years.
Long before seven o'clock, the school-house blazed with light and buzzedwith curious speech. Team after team drove up to the door, and as thedrivers leaped out to receive the women, they said in low but eagertones to the bystanders:
"Meeting begun yet?"
"Nope!"
"What kind of a time y' havin' over here, any way?"
"A mighty solumn time," somebody would reply to a low laugh.
By seven o'clock every inch of space was occupied; the air wasfrightful. The kerosene lamps gave off gas and smoke, the huge stoveroared itself into an angry red on its jack-oak grubs, and still peoplecrowded in at the door.
Discussion waxed hot as the stove; two or three Universalists boldlyattacked everybody who came their way. A tall man stood on a bench inthe corner, and, thumping his Bible wildly with his fist, exclaimed, atthe top of his voice:
"There is _no_ hell at _all_! The Bible says the _wicked_ perish_utterly_. They are _consumed_ as _ashes_ when they die. They _perish_as _dogs_!"
"What kind o' docterin' is that?" asked a short man of Councill.
"I d'know. It's ol' Sam Richards. Calls himself aChristian--Christadelphian 'r some new-fangled name."
At last people began to inquire, "Well, ain't he comin'?"
"Most time f'r the Elder to come, ain't it?"
"Oh, I guess he's preparin' a sermon."
John Jennings pushed anxiously to Daddy Brown.
"Ain't the Elder comin'?"
"I d'know. He didn't stay at my house."
"He didn't?"
"No. Thought he went home with you."
"I ain't see 'im 't all. I'll ask Councill. Brother Councill, seenanything of the Elder?"
"No. Didn't he go home with Bensen?"
"I d'n know. I'll see."
This was enough to start the news that "Pill had skipped."
This the deacons denied, saying "he'd come or send word."
Outside, on the leeward side of the house, the young men who couldn'tget in stood restlessly, now dancing a jig, now kicking their huge bootsagainst the underpinning to warm their toes. They talked spasmodicallyas they swung their arms about their chests, speaking from behind theirhuge buffalo-coat collars.
The wind roared through the creaking oaks; the horses stirredcomplainingly, the bells on their backs crying out querulously; theheads of the fortunates inside were shadowed outside on the snow, andthe restless young men amused themselves betting on which head wasBensen and which Councill.
At last some one pounded on the desk inside. The suffocating but livelycrowd turned with painful adjustment toward the desk, from whence DeaconBenson's high, smooth voice sounded:
"Brethren an' sisters, Elder Pill hain't come--and, as it's about eighto'clock, he probably won't come to-night. After the disturbances lastnight, it's--a--a--we're all the more determined to--the--a--need ofreforming grace is more felt than ever. Let us hope nothing has happenedto the Elder. I'll go see to-morrow, and if he is unable to come--I'llsee Brother Wheat, of Cresco. After prayer by Brother Jennings, we willadjourn till to-morrow night. Brother Jennings, will you lead us inprayer?" (Some one snickered.) "I hope the disgraceful--a--scenes oflast night will not be repeated."
"Where's Pill?" demanded a voice in the back part of the room. "That'swhat I want to know."
"He's a bad pill," said another, repeating a pun already old.
"I guess so! He borrowed twenty dollars o' me last week," said the firstvoice.
"He owes me for a pig," shouted a short man, excitedly. "I believe he'sskipped to get rid o' his debts."
"So do I. I allus said he was a mighty queer preacher."
"He'd bear watchin' was my idee fust time I ever see him."
"Careful, brethren--_careful_. He may come at any minute."
"I don't care if he does. I'd bone him f'r pay f'r that shote, preacher'r no preacher," said Bartlett, a little nervously.
High words followed this, and there was prospect of a fight. Thepressure of the crowd, however, was so great it was well-nigh impossiblefor two belligerents to get at each other. The meeting broke up at last,and the people, chilly, soured, and disappointed at the lack ofdevelopments, went home saying Pill was _scaly_; no preacher who chawedterbacker was to be trusted; and when it was learned that the horse andbuggy he drove he owed Jennings and Bensen for, everybody said, "He's afraud."