“I want to hear it myself,” groaned the sufferer; “I don’t feel right; can’t nobody pray—­nobody in the crowd?”

Again the boys looked inquiringly at each other, but this time it was a little shyly.  If he had asked for some one to go out and steal a mule, or kill a bear, or gallop a buck-jumping mustang to ’Frisco, they would have fought for the chance; but praying—­praying was entirely out of their line.

The silence became painful:  soon slouched hats were hauled down over moist eyes, and shirt-sleeves and bare arms seemed to find something unusual to attend to in the boys’ faces.  Big Brooks commenced to blubber aloud, and was led out by old Thompson, who wanted a chance to get out of doors so he might break down in private.  Finally matters were brought to a crisis by Mose—­no one knew his other name.  Mose uncovered a sandy head, face and beard, and remarked: 

“I don’t want to put on airs in this here crowd, but ef nobody else ken say a word to the Lord about Billy Bent, I’m a-goin’ to do it myself.  It’s a bizness I’ve never bin in, but ther’s nothin’ like tryin’.  This meetin’ ’ll cum to order to wunst.”

“Hats off in church, gentlemen!” commanded Pentecost.

Off came every hat, and some of the boys knelt down, as Mose knelt beside the bench, and said: 

“Oh, Lord, here’s Billy Bent needs ‘tendin’ to!  He’s panned out his last dust, an’ he seems to hev a purty clear idee that this is his last chance.  He wants you to give him a lift, Lord, an’ it’s the opinion of this house thet he needs it.  ’Tain’t none of our bizness what he’s done, an’ ef it wuz, you’d know more about it than we cud tell yer; but it’s mighty sartin that a cuss that’s been in the digging fur years needs a sight of mendin’ up before he kicks the bucket.”

“That’s so,” responded two or three, very emphatically.

“Billy’s down, Lord, an’ no decent man b’lieves that the Lord ’ud hit a man when he’s down, so there’s one or two things got to be done—­either he’s got to be let alone, or he’s got to be helped.  Lettin’ him alone won’t do him or anybody else enny good, so helpin’s the holt, an’ as enny one uv us tough fellers would help ef we knew how to, it’s only fair to suppose thet the Lord’ll do it a mighty sight quicker.  Now, what Billy needs is to see the thing in thet light, an’ you ken make him do it a good deal better than we ken.  It’s, mighty little fur the Lord to do, but it’s meat an’ drink an’ clothes to Billy just now.  When we wuz boys, sum uv us read some promises ef you’rn in thet Book thet wes writ a good spell ago by chaps in the Old Country, an’ though Sunday-school teachers and preachers mixed the matter up in our minds, an’ got us all tangle-footed, we know they’re dar, an’ you’ll know what we mean.  Now, Lord, Billy’s jest the boy—­he’s a hard case, so you can’t find no better stuff to work on—­he’s in a bad fix, thet we can’t do nuthin’ fur, so it’s jest yer chance.  He ain’t exactly the chap to make an A Number One Angel ef, but he ain’t the man to forget a friend, so he’ll be a handy feller to hev aroun’.”