They were all there, for sure, such sound does not rise from neighbors suspicious of a thing happening, but from a whole troop of men called forth for an event. They were all there, except Norman Quill of course, from smart Alowicious Burnside to the (otherwise) quiet Ben Lewis, from the cut-up Marty Sherman to the teacher Gerald Hess, from the energetic Joey Mills to the reflective Robert Munsen. They and all of them had been there for the light and dim of days, ever since Mr. Craylen of Bernadette fame said after potluck dinner that "he's no extra ordinary man, Tim. Oh yes, he's a good guy, a kind of guy you'd want sitting your house or teaching your children after school, you know a sort you'd want in charge of the butchery during a depression. Oh, what he'd done for Claud Stephens when his heart stopped for an evening, or the stunt he pulled to get the taller Laney twin back in the game, or even what he'd done to get crazy Jay Wright out of Catesville's loony bin, well, I tell you, maybe he is something special." And for a man like Mr. Craylen, with all he's seen with the Bernadette women and their six carnival mares, to pay such regards to Bushkill's most enigmatic, bare-footed Pastor -- then there's someone special. And would you believe that Claud Stephens of a second beating heart would venture Bushkill had a saint living in the small house in Harley Jansen's field?