"Same here," agreed Douglas, and shortly the cabin was in darkness.
For a day or so the preacher stayed quietly in and about the cabin. He swept the chapel and cleaned out the stove and polished the windows and each day made a little fife. Douglas frequently found him there at night, on his knees. At least once, a day he said, "It was a wonderful thing, Doug, for a young man like you to build me this little chapel, in my old age." He insisted on grace before meals and a chapter aloud from the Bible before bed. Douglas was embarrassed; but entirely acquiescent. Mr. Fowler was to have a free hand with his spiritual development.
About the middle of the week, Judith rode down to the post-office with Douglas. "Well, how's the sky pilot, and his disciple?" she asked.
"I believe the old boy is almost happy," replied Douglas. "He thinks that little old church I built is pretty fine."
"Inez says it looks like a big cow stable."
"That's nice of Inez. Why didn't she tell me how to make it better looking?'
"What does Inez care about it? Honest, Doug, you are making an awful fool of yourself. A man like Fowler can't preach to us."
"Why he never had a chance to preach here yet!" exclaimed Douglas. "And, what do you expect in a place like Lost Chief, a ten-thousand-dollar-a-year sky pilot? Besides, I don't want preaching from him. I just want the one thing like Peter said. And Fowler has that in him just as strong as the highest paid preacher in the world. Give him a show, Judith. Come up, every Sunday. You might back me that much."
"And have everybody in the crowd laughing at me
