During the time that Bonds was on the floor, Evangelist Blank leaned
against the pulpit with his face in his hands as if in prayer. When
Bonds sat down the Evangelist calmly faced the audience. Just at this
time he seemed to possess the meekness of a lamb and the boldness of a
lion. He seemed perfectly composed, as he remarked, "Well, brethren and
friends, I am indeed sorry to see this splendid testimony meeting end in
this way. I am sorry the ministerial brother feels as he does toward the
truth we have preached, and I hope after prayer and reflection he will
see his way clear not to hinder the progress of the meeting. However, if
God sees fit to allow the hand of persecution to fall upon us, we bow
submissively to his will. But we will not, we dare not compromise God's
truth. We will preach the Bible regardless of consequences." With these
remarks Evangelist Blank closed the service.
After the service was closed everything seemed to be as usual except for
a few whisperings around in regard to what Preacher Bonds had said. As
was usually the case at the close of such meetings, the saints gathered
in little groups about the front end of the arbor and talked freely of
their common faith and love. Mothers began to arouse sleepy-eyed
children from their dreams and break to them the sad news that they were
not at home in bed. Bushy-headed, bearded farmers and woodsmen began
ramming their grimy hands into the hip pockets of their "blue drillin'
overhauls," in which sequestered quarters were prone to hide their "long
twist" and homemade cob pipes. After injecting an ample amount of "long
twist" into the cob pipe's empty stomach and lighting a match thereto
and sending a few initiatory puffs into the air, these mountaineers made
off in the darkness toward their homes in different directions. Some
went in groups, some by twos, some singly. Seen from a distance in the
blackness of the night these companies resembled a regiment of
glow-worms in a potato patch. From over the flint hills in the distance
came the familiar rattle and rumble of old-fashioned lumber wagons whose
occupants had come far to hear the much-discussed preacher from "over
east." Now and then the night air was pierced by hideous yells and
whistles from roguish boys dashing along on horseback, whose popularity
depended on the amount of noise they made.
Is the offense of the cross ceased? Nay, verily; they that "live godly
in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." So say the Scriptures, and so
thought Evangelist Blank as he lay down to rest that night after he had
closed the testimony-meeting. Evangelist Blank slept in a tent, which
had been pitched near the brush arbor. Several such tents had been
pitched by Jake Benton and other neighbors, who, finding it ill
convenient to go to and from the meeting each night, had decided to run
it somewhat on the camp-meeting plan.
On the particular night of which we have been speaking, Evangelist Blank
from some cause unknown to him was awakened shortly after midnight. Not
being able to resume sleep, he thought to improve even the midnight time
by musing on the goodness of God. As he lay thus gazing through the thin
canvas of his tent at the moon, which was now a two hour's journey in
the sky, he was startled by the sight of a man's shadow on the side of
the tent. He lay still and listened. Soon he heard low muttering voices
a few rods from his tent. Still he listened. They drew nearer and
nearer. Finally the mutterings became whisperings. Still he listened,
and prayed. They came nearer. Soon several shadows were cast on the
canvas. He saw the winding shadow of a rope as it dangled from the arms
of one of the men. Still he listened. Still they whispered.
"No difference about Benton, we want the preacher," he heard one say.
"Are you sure this is his tent?" whispered another.
"Yes, I saw him sitting in this tent's door reading this afternoon,"
whispered a third.
"We must get the rope on him and make away with him before the camp is
aroused," someone said.
"What shall I do?" thought the pious man. "Does it mean that I must
suffer death at the hands of this mob, simply because I have preached
the truth? Will they hang me? Will they choke me? Will they stone me?
Will they drag me over these awful rocks until life is dashed out? What
meant the gleam in Bonds' eyes last night in the service? What will
become of my dear wife and boy in Ohio? Will I recant? Will I deny my
Lord? Will I shun to declare the whole counsel of God?" All these
questions and many others flashed across the Evangelist's mind like
angry streaks of lightning across a black cloud.
Through the thin canvas he saw in the moonlight half a dozen husky men
seize hold of one end of a rope, the other end of which was arranged in
a slip-loop.
"Now when I get the rope on him, make for the hills," said one man as he
began to untie the strings that held the door of the tent. Just at this
instant Evangelist Blank slipped under the edge of the tent on the
opposite side from where the men were planning their diabolical feat,
and under the edge of Jake Benton's tent, which stood just about two
feet from his own. With a quickness of mind that was almost miraculous,
he donned a dress and shawl and bonnet belonging to Sister Benton, and
stole out of the tent and across the ground toward the arbor in full
view of the enraged men as they came out of the tent that he had just
vacated.
The men were as much astonished as enraged at not finding their prey.
They ransacked Jake Benton's tent and demanded that he reveal the
whereabouts of the preacher. Jake flatly refused. Except for his
trembling, he stood like a stone wall and faced that score of masked
men, thirsty for righteous blood. Really they appeared as so many
thoroughbred devils right from the pit. They were masked in a way, not
only to conceal their identity, but in a way to make them appear as
hideous as possible. The leader of the mob shouted, "Jake Benton, you
sanctified hypocrite, if you don't tell us where that preacher is we'll
hang your carcass up for the crows to pick."
"Maybe you will, but I'll hang there, before I'll tell," shouted poor
Jake in a trembling voice.
"Who was that ole lady left your tent and went across the ground a while
ago with a bonnet on?" shouted one of the mob.
"I never saw an ole lady going across the ground," replied Jake. (In
this he was telling the truth, you know.)
"Hang him up to a tree boys, hang him up, if he won't tell," shouted one
of the gang. "Bring the rope," shouted another as he took hold of
Benton's arms.
Just at this juncture the leader of the mob suggested to Jake that if he
and his comrades would break up camp and leave the ground immediately,
they would not hang him, but would continue their search for the
Evangelist. To this Jake and the whole party of campers readily agreed.
In the light of the moon, the whole ground of campers, consisting of
more than a dozen families, hitched their teams to their wagons and made
their way over the hills homeward. Before any wagon was allowed to leave
the ground, it was carefully searched by the mob to ascertain whether or
not Evangelist Blank were there. He could not be found.
When old Brother Bunk and his family arrived at their home, which was
two miles from the campground. Sister Bunk and the Bunk children were
afraid to go into the house until Brother Bunk should unharness the team
and go with them. When the Bunk family came to the yard, they were
astonished to see in the moonlight somebody sitting under the old silver
poplar-tree. They were scared to say the least. Sister Bunk and the Bunk
children hovered closer and closer to Brother Bunk, while fear increased
as the distance to the poplar-tree decreased. Imagine their surprise and
relief when the person under the tree shouted, "Praise God, Brother
Bunk, many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth
them out of them all." It was Evangelist Blank. He explained to them
that he had walked the whole two miles from the camp through the woods,
guided by the sound of the wagon, thus avoiding the possibility of being
apprehended by the mob in case they should attack the wagon. He had
arrived at the Bunk farm about the same time as the wagon had, but not
having the inconvenience of a team to attend to, had sat down under the
tree to rest.
The mob naturally supposed that Evangelist Blank would somehow make his
way from the campground to Jake Benton's. Benton and his family arrived
home from the camp about three o'clock in the morning. They had been
there only half an hour when they were aroused by the shout of the mob,
who demanded that the preacher should be yielded up to them. Not until
they had thoroughly searched Benton's home would they believe Jake's
contention that Evangelist Blank was not on the premises. Finally, when
they were convinced that Benton could not or would not tell them where
the preacher was they withdrew to a clump of woods a short distance from
Benton's home and, the morning air being chilly, built a fire.
It was here that their identity became known. As they chatted around the
fire they removed the masks from their faces. Of course, Jake Benton was
curious to know who they were, and when he saw their fire in the woods
he resolved to find out, even at the expense of much trembling. He
thought he had recognized some of them by their voices when they talked
to him at the camp, but now he determined to make sure. He crawled on
his hands and knees for nearly a quarter of a mile along an old rail
fence until he came within a distance of twenty rods from where the men
were gathered, Indian fashion, around the fire. He was not at all
surprised when he saw in the group the familiar face of Deacon Cramps
and Reverend Bonds. And he observed from certain parts of their masks
which they still had on that these two men were the fellows who took the
leading part in the affair at the camp. Jake recognized that the group
was made up mostly of men who were prominent members of Mount Olivet
church. A few non-church-members and young men of the baser sort were
also in the group. Benton watched them until nearly daybreak, when they
disbanded and started for home. Jake lay quietly in his clump of
buck-brush until he was sure that they were at a safe distance, then he
crawled out and went home, informed much and scared more.
Shortly after sunrise, old Brother Bunk came over to tell Benton that
Evangelist Blank was at his house safe, and happy in the Lord. This news
greatly relieved Benton and his good wife, for they had not seen the
Evangelist since he left their tent during the night, and they did not
know just how he was faring. Evangelist Blank had suggested that it be
announced that as this was Sunday there would be services held that day
at Old Brother Bunk's. This idea pleased Benton, and he joined Brother
Bunk in scattering the news among the saints. Accordingly at eleven
o'clock the saints gathered at the Bunk home, where a blessed meeting
was held. Great power and victory prevailed. The awful persecution had
driven the saints to their knees in prayer. The very atmosphere round
about seemed to be charged with the Holy Spirit's power. Evangelist
Blank started to preach, but found it impossible. The saints shouted him
down. A number of sinners who were present melted under the influence of
the Holy Spirit and yielded their hearts to God. "Great grace was upon
them all."
That night the meeting at the arbor was resumed, and it continued for
two weeks with greater victory and power than before the molestation.
The mob never bothered again, and the reason was this: A dozen or more
men in the community who were sinners, and professed to be sinners, but
who believed that men should be allowed to serve God according to the
dictates of their own consciences, simply made it plain that the first
fellows masked or unmasked who should disturb the meeting would be dealt
with in a most uncomplimentary manner. The mob saw the situation in its
true light and decided that for their own safety they would stay away.
When the meeting finally ran its natural course and came to a close,
Evangelist Blank bade the band of saints a loving and tearful farewell
and betook himself to other fields to suffer and rejoice in the great
work with which God had entrusted him.