wavering lines the words, "Dear Bill. Go on with the opening. Sing the Psalm, you know the one, and say a prayer, and oh, come to me quick, Bill. Your Pilot."
Bill gradually pulled himself together, announced in a strange voice, "The Pilot can't come," handed me the Psalm, and said:
"Make them sing."
It was that grand Psalm for all hill peoples, "I to the hills will lift mine eyes," and with wondering faces they sang the strong, steadying words. After the Psalm was over the people sat and waited. Bill looked at the Hon. Fred Ashley, then at Robbie Muir, then said to me in a low voice:
"Kin you make a prayer?"
I shook my head, ashamed as I did so of my cowardice.
Again Bill paused, then said:
"The Pilot says there's got to be a prayer. Kin anyone make one?"
Again dead, solemn silence.
Then Hi, who was near the back, said, coming to his partner's help:
"What's the matter with you trying, yourself, Bill?"
