I've told ye, stranger, that Hell fer Sartain empties, as it oughter,
of co'se, into Kingdom-Come. You can ketch the devil 'most any day in
the week on Hell fer Sartain, an' sometimes you can git Glory
everlastin' on Kingdom-Come. Hit's the only meetin'-house thar in
twenty miles aroun'.
Well, the reg'lar rider, ole Jim Skaggs, was dead, an' the bretherin
was a-lookin' aroun' fer somebody to step into ole Jim's shoes. Thar'd
been one young feller up thar from the settlemints, a-cavortin' aroun',
an' they was studyin' 'bout gittin' him.
"Bretherin' an' sisteren," I says, atter the leetle chap was gone,
"he's got the fortitood to speak an' he shorely is well favored. He's
got a mighty good hawk eye fer spyin' out evil--an' the gals; he can
outholler ole Jim; an' IF," I says, "any IDEES ever comes to him, he'll
be a hell-rouser shore--but they ain't comin'!" An', so sayin', I takes
my foot in my hand an' steps fer home.
Stranger, them fellers over thar hain't seed much o' this world. Lots
of 'em nuver seed the cyars; some of 'em nuver seed a wagon. An' atter
jowerin' an' noratin' fer 'bout two hours, what you reckon they said
they aimed to do? They believed they'd take that ar man Beecher, ef
they could git him to come. They'd heerd o' Henry endurin' the war,
an' they knowed he was agin the rebs, an' they wanted Henry if they
could jes git him to come.
Well, I snorted, an' the feud broke out on Hell fer Sartain betwixt the
Days an' the Dillons. Mace Day shot Daws Dillon's brother, as I
rickollect--somep'n's al'ays a-startin' up that plaguey war an'
a-makin' things frolicsome over thar--an' ef it hadn't a-been fer a
tall young feller with black hair an' a scar across his forehead, who
was a-goin' through the mountains a-settlin' these wars, blame me ef I
believe thar ever would 'a' been any mo' preachin' on Kingdom-Come.
This feller comes over from Hazlan an' says he aims to hold a meetin'
on Kingdom-Come. "Brother," I says, "that's what no preacher have ever
did whilst this war is a-goin' on." An' he says, sort o' quiet, "Well,
then, I reckon I'll have to do what no preacher have ever did." An' I
ups an' says: "Brother, an ole jedge come up here once from the
settlemints to hold couht. 'Jedge,' I says, 'that's what no jedge have
ever did without soldiers since this war's been a-goin' on.' An',
brother, the jedge's words was yours, p'int-blank. 'All right,' he
says, 'then I'll have to do what no other jedge have ever did.' An',
brother," says I to the preacher, "the jedge done it shore. He jes
laid under the couht-house fer two days whilst the boys fit over him.
An' when I sees the jedge a-makin' tracks fer the settlemints, I says,
'Jedge,' I says, 'you spoke a parable shore.'"
Well, sir, the long preacher looked jes as though he was a-sayin' to
hisself, "Yes, I hear ye, but I don't heed ye," an' when he says, "Jes
the same, I'm a-goin' to hold a meetin' on Kingdom-Come," why, I jes
takes my foot in my hand an' ag'in I steps fer home.
That night, stranger, I seed another feller from Hazlan, who was
a-tellin' how this here preacher had stopped the war over thar, an' had
got the Marcums an' Braytons to shakin' hands; an' next day ole Tom
Perkins stops in an' says that WHARAS there mought 'a' been preachin'
somewhar an' sometime, thar nuver had been PREACHIN' afore on
Kingdom-Come. So I goes over to the meetin' house, an' they was all
thar--Daws Dillon an' Mace Day, the leaders in the war, an' Abe Shivers
(you've heerd tell o' Abe) who was a-carryin' tales from one side to
t'other an' a-stirrin' up hell ginerally, as Abe most al'ays is; an'
thar was Daws on one side o' the meetin'-house an' Mace on t'other, an'
both jes a-watchin' fer t'other to make a move, an' thar'd 'a' been
billy-hell to pay right thar! Stranger, that long preacher talked jes
as easy as I'm a-talkin' now, an' hit was p'int-blank as the feller
from Hazlan said. You jes ought 'a' heerd him tellin' about the Lawd
a-bein' as pore as any feller thar, an' a-makin' barns an' fences an'
ox-yokes an' sech like; an' not a-bein' able to write his own
name--havin' to make his mark mebbe--when he started out to save the
world. An' how they tuk him an' nailed him onto a cross when he'd come
down fer nothin' but to save 'em; an' stuck a spear big as a corn-knife
into his side, an' give him vinegar; an' his own mammy a-standin' down
thar on the ground a-cryin' an' a-watchin' him an' he a-fergivin' all
of 'em then an' thar!
Thar nuver had been nothin' like that afore on Kingdom-Come, an' all
along I heerd fellers a-layin' thar guns down; an when the preacher
called out fer sinners, blame me ef the fust feller that riz wasn't
Mace Day. An' Mace says, "Stranger, 'f what you say is true, I reckon
the Lawd 'll fergive me too, but I don't believe Daws Dillon ever
will," an' Mace stood thar lookin' around fer Daws. An' all of a
sudden the preacher got up straight an' called out, "Is thar a human in
this house mean an' sorry enough to stand betwixt a man an' his Maker"?
An' right thar, stranger, Daws riz. "Naw, by God, thar hain' t!" Daws
says, an' he walks up to Mace a-holdin' out his hand, an' they all
busts out cryin' an' shakin' hands--Days an' Dillons--jes as the
preacher had made 'em do over in Hazlan. An' atter the thing was over,
I steps up to the preacher an' I says:
"Brother," I says, "YOU spoke a parable, shore."