It was late in September that Pat, with a manner of studied indifference, told Courtland of a rumor that Tennelly was engaged to Gila Dare.

It was the very next Sunday night that Tennelly turned up at Courtland’s apartment after he and Pat had gone to the evening service, and followed them to the church.  He dropped into a seat beside Pat, amazed to find him there.

“You here!” he whispered, grasping Pat’s hand with the old friendly grip.  “Where’s Court?”

Pat grinned and nodded up toward the pulpit.

Tennelly looked forward and for a minute did not comprehend.  Then he saw Courtland sitting gravely in a pulpit chair by the little red-headed Scotch preacher.

“What in thunder!” he growled, almost out loud.  “What’s the joke?”

Pat’s face was on the defensive at once, though it was plain he was enjoying Tennelly’s perplexity.  “Court’s going to speak to-night!” It is probable Pat never enjoyed giving any information so much as that sentence in his life.

“The deuce he is!” said Tennelly, out loud.  “You’re lying, man!” which, considering that the Scotchman was praying, was slightly out of place.

Pat frowned.  “Shut up, Nelly.  Can’t you see the game’s called?  I’m telling you straight.  If you don’t believe it wait and see.”

Tennelly looked again.  That surely was Courtland sitting there.  What could be the meaning of it all?  Had Courtland taken to itinerary preaching?  Consternation filled his soul.  He loved Courtland as his own brother.  He would have done anything to save his brilliant career for him.

He hadn’t intended staying to service.  His plan had been to slip in, get Courtland to come away with him, have a talk, and go back to the shore on the late train.  But the present situation altered his plans.  There was nothing for it now but to stay and see this thing through.  Pat was a whole lot deeper than the rest had ever given him credit for being.  Pat was enjoying the psychological effect of the service on Tennelly.  He had never been much of a student in the psychology class, but when it came right down to plain looking into another man’s soul and telling what he was thinking about, and what he was going to do next, Pat was all there.  That was what made him such an excellent football-player.  When he met his opponent he could always size him up and tell just about what kind of plays he was going to make, and know how to prepare for them.  Pat was no fool.

That was a most unusual service.  The minister read the story of the martyr Stephen, and the conversion of Saul of Tarsus, taken from the sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth chapters of Acts.  It was brief and dramatic in the reading.  Even Tennelly was caught and held as Burns read in his clear, direct way that made Scripture seem to live again in modern times.

“I have asked my friend Mr. Courtland to tell you the story of how he met Jesus one day on the Damascus road,” said Burns, as he closed the Bible and turned to Courtland, sitting still with bowed head just behind him.