As he came up to them the Bishop spoke.
"I got Wes' and Alec Gregg to drive awhile so we could stretch our legs." But then came a quick change of tone, as they halted by the road.
"Joel, there's no use beatin' about the bush--them devils at the ferry jest now drowned your pa." He went cold all over.

Keaton, looking sympathetic but frightened, spoke next.
"You ought to thank me, Brother Rae, for not telling you on the other side, when you asked me.

I knew better.

Because, why?
Because I knew you'd fly off the handle and get yourself killed, and then your ma'd be left all alone, that's why, now--and prob'ly they'd 'a' wound up by dumping the whole passle of us bag and baggage into the stream.

And it wa'n't any use, your father bein' dead and gone." The Bishop took up the burden, slapping him cordially on the back.
"Come, come,--hearten up, now! Your pa's been made a martyr--he's beautified his inheritance in Zion--whinin' won't do no good." He drew himself up with a shrug, as if to throw off an invisible burden, and answered, calmly: "I'm not whining, Bishop.