"Oh, it's only his church," I said, proceeding to give her an account
of Robbie Muir's silent, solid inertness, and how he had blocked The
Pilot's scheme.
"What a shame!" cried Gwen, indignantly. "What a bad man he must be!"
The Pilot smiled. "No, indeed," he answered; "why, he's the best man in
the place, but I wish he would say or do something. If he would only get
mad and swear I think I should feel happier."
Gwen looked quite mystified.
"You see, he sits there in solemn silence looking so tremendously wise
that most men feel foolish if they speak, while as for doing anything
the idea appears preposterous, in the face of his immovableness."
"I can't bear him!" cried Gwen. "I should like to stick pins in him."
"I wish some one would," answered The Pilot. "It would make him seem
more human if he could be made to jump."
"Try again," said Gwen, "and get someone to make him jump."
"It would be easier to build the church," said The Pilot, gloomily.
"I could make him jump," said Gwen, viciously, "and I WILL," she added,
after a pause.
"You!" answered The Pilot, opening his eyes. "How?"
"I'll find some way," she replied, resolutely.
And so she did, for when the next meeting was called to consult as to
the building of a church, the congregation, chiefly of farmers and their
wives, with Williams, the storekeeper, were greatly surprised to see
Bronco Bill, Hi, and half a dozen ranchers and cowboys walk in at
intervals and solemnly seat themselves.
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