punchers, make ready, tighten up your belts and be smiling when the Lord comes."
As Pony finished it was so still in the room that one could have heard a pin drop. The cow-punchers who had been grinning when he began were all looking solemn. Long Tom had copied Pony's heavenly smile and Big Bill was surreptitiously wiping away tears.
"That's some sermon, Pony," said Big Bill.
"You gin it to us good," ejaculated Long Tom.
"That was fine, Pony," said Mr. Morgan. "I guess we all know what you meant and I can see the boys all took it to heart."
"Now, gents," continued Pony, "don't you fellers get to thinking that I am spouting jest to hear myself spout. I couldn't help it; it was the spirit of the Lord came down on me and I jest bust out like a geyser. Now, gents, let us all conclude this evening by singing the cow-puncher's hymn, When We Are Rounded Up in Glory."
They began the old cowboy hymn rather quietly, but the verses gathered volume as they went on until finally they were singing at the top of their voices and the rafters of the low room fairly rang. Presently they were swinging to and fro and keeping time upon the table with their fists or stamping their feet. It was a great religious marching song, Rounded Up in Glory,
