Fumbling in his pocket, he came upon a slip of paper, the slip the girl

had given Elizabeth in the schoolhouse on Sunday afternoon. "For in the

time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion; in the secret of his

tabernacle shall he hide me."

Ah! God had hidden her then. Why not again? And what was that he had said

to her himself, when searching for a word to cover his emotion? "I pray

for you!" Why could he not pray? She had made him pray in the wilderness.

Should he not pray for her who was in peril now? He leaned back in the

hot, uncomfortable car-seat, pulling his hat down closer over his eyes,

and prayed as he had never prayed before. "Our Father" he stumbled through

as far as he could remember, and tried to think how her sweet voice had

filled in the places where he had not known it the other time. Then, when

he was done, he waited and prayed, "Our Father, care for Elizabeth," and

added, "For Jesus' sake. Amen." Thereafter through the rest of his

journey, and for days and weeks stretching ahead, he prayed that prayer,

and sometimes found in it his only solace from the terrible fear that

possessed him lest some harm had come to the girl, whom it seemed to him

now he had deserted in cold blood.




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