“You don’t mean to tell me that even the children preached,” said Ingmar doubtingly.

“Oh, yes!” the old man returned.  “Hellgum told them that they should serve the Lord instead of playing, so they started in to convert their elders.  They lay in ambush along the roadside, and pounced upon innocent passers-by with such ravings as these:  ’Aren’t you going to begin the fight against the devil?  Shall you continue to live in sin?’”

Young Ingmar did not want to believe what Strong Ingmar was recounting.  “Old man Felt must have put all that into your head,” he concluded.

“By the way, this was what I wanted to tell you,” said Strong Ingmar:  “Felt is done for, too!  When I think that all this mischief has been hatched on the Ingmar Farm, I feel ashamed to look people in the face.”

“Have they wronged Felt in any way?” asked Ingmar.

“It was the work of those youngsters, drat them!  One evening, when they had nothing else to do, they took it into their heads to go and convert Felt, for of course they had heard that he was a great sinner.”

“But in the old days all the children were as afraid of Felt as they were of witches and trolls,” Ingmar reminded.

“Oh, these youngsters were scared, too, but they must have had their hearts set upon doing something very heroic.  So one evening, as Felt sat stirring his evening porridge, they stormed his cabin.  When they opened the door and saw the old Corporal, with his bristling moustaches, his broken nose, and his game eye, sitting before the fire, they were terribly frightened, and two of the littlest ones ran away.  The dozen or so that went in knelt in a circle around the old man, and began to sing and pray.”

“And didn’t he drive them out?” asked Ingmar.

“If only he had!” sighed the old man.  “I don’t know what had come over the Corporal.  The poor wretch must have been sitting there brooding over the loneliness and desolation of his old age.  And then I suppose it was because those who had come to him were children.  The fact that children had always been afraid of him must have been a source of grief to the old man; and when he saw all those baby faces, with their upturned eyes filled with shining tears, he was powerless.  The children were only waiting for him to rush at them and strike them.  Although they kept right on singing and praying, they were ready to cut and run the instant he made a move.  Presently a pair of them noticed that Felt’s face was beginning to twitch.  ‘Now he’ll go for us,’ they thought, getting up to flee.  But the old man blinked his one good eye, and a tear rolled down his cheek.  ‘Hallelujah!’ the youngsters shouted, and now, as I’ve already told you, it’s all up with Felt.  Now he does nothing but run about to meetings, and fasts and prays, and fancies he hears the voice of God.”

“I don’t see anything hurtful in all that,” said Ingmar.  “Felt was killing himself with drink when the Hellgumists took him into camp.”