The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1915-09-07

Ziegier's back room and told 8 constantly
augmented circle the story Of the Son. They
reserved place for him now, and it was no
tieeable that many of his auditors took pains
with their dress There were clean shirts
and freshly creased boots; silk handkerchiefs
emerged from the corners of drawers to glad
den the eye; and three or four went to the
length Of shaving Also, they we're less eager
to interrupt the current Of his discourse, to
question the authenticity of statement or
the human possibility of an incident. As
Father Walsh drew Him, He stood a very
real, a grandly brave and lovable figure, in
calm and stress exhibiting in their perfection
those qualities they could appreciate. Once
or twice when listener broke in on the mar
rative and the priest strayed to defnolish OBJ
jections or soothe genuine doubt, the ma
jority showed fierce impotence, and it was
as much to their muttered imprecations as to
priestly reasoning that instant retreat was
due. Gambling on the seventh day became
unknown. Always the strange service ended
the one .way-they drank gravely, the priest
fitting his glass to theirs, and went home
It CHANGED that the Dog Iron men made q
detour and struck the town at high noon.
Forty strong, they came fresh from weeks of
sweating toll with the half-wild cattle of the
mountains; they were on FIRE with the animal
Joy of life. That night the dance hall was
thrown open, the entire town was hidden to
come, and yearling steer was dragged up for
a barbecue. Deadeye looked to see Father
Walsh retire within the Eating House and
shut his ears to the offensive babel He did
nothing of the kind. Instead, he walked the
street, unblushingly seeking acquaintance
ship with these turbulent riders Of cowland
And when the ball opened that night, he
marched into the hall arm and arm with
Lewis and Lisby, the boss of the Dog-Iron
outfit
Certain ladies who had been invited, failed
to put in an appearance. Let's be decent, !"
suggested Lisby, as he despatched the mes
senger, just this once" So they. held a
stag-dance, and it was the noisiest, and most
orderly function ever held in Deadeye
Father Walsh stayed until the end, beaming
on them through the dust and smoke from
the bench along the wall, bis red face ashine
with good-nature. The gold-red dawn saw
them surge across the street to the Eating
House, and then to bed
One day Deadeye woke up and rubbed its
eyes. Was this thing real? There on the
border of the town, not biscuit-throw from
the last dwelling, teetered the skeleton Of a
building. With hammer in his freckled
fist and bis mouth full of nails, Father Walsh
swarmed all over and about it, directing the
labors of two refugees from the republic of
Mexico. The town gave over all other pur-
suits and congregated to stare and ask ques-
TONS
This is to be the church told you Of, /" the
priest informed them with simple pride.
The tower win be twenty feet high, boys. >
Straightway they held a mass meeting at
Ziegler's, for this was venture affecting
realty values and the commercial. prosperity
Of Deadeye. Tom was bitterly opposed to a
church. In panic over the possible injury
to his establishment, he saw in the gaunt
framework, so thresteningiy close, the enter
ing wedge Of reform that would sweep Dead.
eye clean: and he hurled forth so wen as be
could remember the savage foundations 81
the Roman power that a Lutheran father had
ineileated Ia early youth--alas, how widely
had Tom himself strsyedl He went to the
length OF asserting that Walsh was not a reg.
1ilsrly ordained priest Some there were who
applauded his contentious irresponsible
49, 49,