“No, I don’t say as you should,” said the old driver, his eye resting on Keith with a look that showed that he liked him none the less for his pluck.  “But you’ve got to look out.  This ain’t back in the settlements, and there’s a plenty around here as would cut your throat for a wink of Terpy’s eye.  They will give you a shake for it, and if you come out of that safe it will be all right.  I’ll see one or two of the boys and see that they don’t let ’em double up on you.  A horse can’t do nothin’ long if he has got a double load on him, no matter what he is.”

Tim strolled out, and, though Keith did not know it for some time, he put in a word for him in one or two places which stood him in good stead afterwards.

The following day a stranger came up to Keith.  He was a thin man between youth and middle age, with a long face and a deep voice, and light hair that stuck up on his head.  His eyes were deep-set and clear; his mouth was grave and his chin strong.  He wore a rusty black coat and short, dark trousers.

“Are you Mr. Keith?” His voice was deep and melancholy.

Keith bowed.  He could not decide what the stranger was.  The short trousers inclined him to the church.

“I am proud to know you, sir.  I am Mr. Drummond, the Methodist preacher.”  He gripped Keith’s hand.

Keith expressed the pleasure he had in meeting him.

“Yes, sir; I am proud to know you,” repeated Mr. Drummond.  “I hear you have come out on the right side, and have given a righteous reproof to that wretched dancing Jezebel who is trying to destroy the souls of the young men of this town.”

Keith said that he was not aware that he had done anything of the kind.  As to destroying the young men, he doubted if they could be injured by her—­certainly not by dancing.  In any event, he did not merit his praise.

Mr. Drummond shook his head.  “Yes, sir.  You are the first young man who has had the courage to withstand the wiles of that person.  She is the most abandoned creature in this town; she beguiles the men so that I can make no impression on them.  Even when I am holding my meetings, I can hear the strains of her fiddles and the shouts of the ribald followers that throng her den-of-Satan.  I have tried to get her to leave, but she will not go.”

Keith’s reply was that he thought she had as much right there as any one, and he doubted if there were any way to meet the difficulty.

“I am sorry to hear you say that,” said the preacher.  “I shall break up her sink of iniquity if I have to hold a revival meeting at her very door and call down brimstone and fire upon her den of wickedness”

“If you felt so on the subject of dancing, why did you come here?” demanded Keith.  “It seems to me that dancing is one of the least sins of Gumbolt.”

The preacher looked at him almost pensively.  “I thought it my duty.  I have encountered ridicule and obloquy; but I do not mind them.  I count them but dross.  Wherever I have found the print of my Lord’s shoe in the earth, there I have coveted to set my feet also.”