duced a small jug. He wiped the mouth on his
sleeve and passed it to Gordon; then held the gurgling
vessel to his open throat. "There was some
hell raised last night," he proceeded; "a man from
up back had his head busted with a stone, and a
drunken looney shot through the women's tent: an
old girl hollered out they had Goddy right in there
among 'em."

"They were shooting a while back," Gordon observed
indifferently. "Have you seen Buck Simmons
here?"

"No, I hain't. He wouldn't be here noways."

Gordon preserved a discreet silence in regard to
his source of assurance of Buckley's presence at the
camp meeting.

"Have another drink, Gord."

The services were temporarily suspended, and the
throng emptied from the tent. A renewed sanity
clothed them -- girls drew into squares of giggling
defense against the verbal sallies of robustly-witted
young men. Women collected their offspring, gathering
in circles about opened boxes of lunch: a multitude
of papers and box lids littered the ground.
A hot, steaming odor, analogous to coffee, rose from
the crowded counter. A prodigious amount of raw
whiskey was consumed among the vehicles by the
stream and mud-coated willows.

Gordon slowly made his way through the throng,

[[189]]

p188 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p189w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p190

v?