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.