There was a current of excitement in Pollen Bend that fall, almost as much excitement as that generated by the annual County Fair, almost as much as to be had when Punxsutawny Phil was taken out and shown his shadow once a year up North somewhere.

The posters plastered all over town announced the imminent arrival of an old fashioned honest to God revival show, with three preachers in tents preaching around the clock.  Pollen Bend was about to be saved.  They were to be here for a whole week, and prospective converts to the Path to Jesus were expected from towns all around the county.  Barns and yards were cleaned out to accommodate the visitors, women dug out their best clothes and picked them over carefully for tears and missing buttons, and jugs of moonshine disappeared almost overnight.

Maw was as excited as the rest, because our old preacher was too old to get much fire and brimstone into his sermons, and his now feeble voice was frequently drowned out by the snoring from the wooden benches in the small church.

“At least we don’t have to get dressed up in a monkey suit,” I told Jeb.  “Them preachers won’t expect farm boys to turn up looking like some citified kids.  And if the spirit hits you, you don’t want to be rolling around in the dirt in decent duds, while you’re screaming for Jesus.”

“The spirit?  Why’s it going to hit me, and what with?” asked Jeb, with a worried look on his angelic face.

“If Baby Jesus comes into your heart, you’ll go rolling around in the aisles, and all the people will shout Halleluiah, and you’ll be saved.”

“What for?  Saved from having to go to school each day?”

“It means your soul will go to Heaven when you die.”

By now Jeb was thoroughly confused and more than a little alarmed.

“I’m not going to die am I?”  he squealed in a shrill panicky voice.  His face took on a look that our old mule Sam would have been proud of.  “Well, I ain’t going to no Salvation show,” he declared.  “Not if it’s going to kill you just so some preacher can send your soul up to Heaven before it’s properly time for it to go.”

“Well, it’s better than if you don’t get saved.  You could go down to,” I lowered my voice to a hush, “Hell.  They say it’s even hotter down there than in Mississippi.  And there’s Old Nick just waiting to prod you with his pitchfork and stoke his fires with you.”

“Jake!  You stop frightening your little brother with that kind of talk,” called out Mum from the porch.  “Don’t you listen to him, Jeb.  He’s been picking up that scare mongering from them Baptist kids at school.  You ain’t going to die, not unless you do something stupid like picking up a rattler to see what makes it rattle.”

“Have you ever been to a revival meeting?” asked Jeb.

“Only once, when I was young, before I married your Paw.  They don’t get out here much, as Pollen Bend is as far from anywhere else in America as it’s possible to get.  But the Path to Jesus is on a big tour of the South, and it’s the biggest revival show ever, so it’s going to be real exciting.  You’ll enjoy it.  I know I will”

“Was you saved?”

“Well, I’m not sure I was lost in the first place, but I came away from there feeling real good.  I’ve always gone to church and tried to be as good as I can, so maybe Baby Jesus was in my heart all along, without me knowing it.”

We’d have asked Paw if he’d been saved, but he was already lost in his jug, so I figured he hadn’t, leastwise not yet.

That Friday afternoon, we were all taken from school to see the procession coming through town on its way to the meeting site.  The streets of Pollen Bend were lined with folks all eager to catch a first glimpse of the preachers.   We weren’t disappointed.  Along with the wagons carrying the tents and the seats, there were three flatbed horse drawn buggies carrying the three preachers.  They were all dressed in black suits with white shirts and black string ties, and each carried a big bible.  They were calling out to the spectators, telling us we were all welcome to come to the meeting and be saved.

“This is the biggest Travelling Salvation Show in the world,” one of them thundered.  “If you can’t get saved here, you’ll never get saved anywhere.  We give a hundred percent guarantee that your souls will be bound for glory after you come to us and follow the Path to Jesus.”

He needn’t have worried.  The only inhabitants of Pollen Bend and surrounds who wouldn’t be attending were buried in the graveyards, with their final destinations already decreed.  Not that we were real God fearing folk as such, but we were curious.  And generally bored with the peace and quiet of the town.

I was eager to get going on the Saturday morning as soon as the tents opened for business, but Paw put his foot down and said there was too much work to be done around the farm.  We would have to wait until after dark when we couldn’t do no work around the place anyway.  I’d never known a day to drag like that day did, but finally, at dusk, Paw loaded Maw, Jeb and I and little Mindy Lou into the wagon and we set off for town.  Jeb offered to stay home with Mindy Lou, but Maw would have none of it.

As we passed through the little town, the roads grew dense with family wagons and people on foot all heading for the meeting place, and we could feel the excitement building to fever pitch.  When we unhitched Sam and tethered him to the hitching post that had been hastily erected, we headed toward the nearest tent.  We had to thread our way past the usual hangers on that we’d find at the County Fair, hot dog stands, fried chicken and barbeque concessions, hot doughnuts, tea and coffee stands,  There was a real carnival atmosphere, and the smell of hot food wafting all around made my mouth water.  There was the inevitable blind tiger, unlit and off to one side, but the men all knew where to find it.

Entering the big tent we were struck by the heat given off by the lanterns and the crowds.  Reverend Elias Coglan was in full swing, and his booming voice carried across the heads of the congregation.  The sermon was running hot too, and the Reverend’s face glistened with sweat in the light from the lanterns.

“And the sinners shall go down into the deep pit of despair and burn for a thousand years, while the demons and imps with their pitchforks will torment them.”

I could feel Jeb beside me starting to shake, and wondered if it was because I’d been saying much the same thing yesterday.  Maw grabbed his hand and led him to a row of seats, where she sat him beside her and whispered in his ear.  She glared at me and told me to sit on her other side away from poor Jeb, and to keep an eye on Mindy Lou.  She’d settled her, wrapped in blankets in a large open bag, and laid her on the floor in front of me.

“Save yourselves, you sinners and open your hearts to the dear Lord Jesus Christ.  Let him come inside your hearts and make you whole.  Welcome his love for you into your hearts and be saved.”

Cries of Halleluiah rang out as his enthusiasm swelled.  One woman in front of us stood up suddenly and screamed out, “I can see Jesus.  He’s here.  I can see Him.  Praise the Lord.”   One of the Reverend’s helpers came across and led her gently to a spot beside the pulpit where a few of the saved were seated apart from everybody else.  I noticed they were mostly elderly spinster types, who I figured got hysterical very easily, having no other excitement in their lives.

“And the Path to Jesus is through good living.  Say no to the demon drink.  If you put a fish in water, he thrives.  If you put him in whisky he dies a horrible death.  Jesus knows this, he’s a fisher of men.  Throw away your jugs of moonshine!  Smash your evil stills!  Live clean and pure so you can go to Heaven and sit at the right hand of God the Father.  Renounce the Devil and his evil works.  Tell him you’re not going to drink his filthy liquor.  Tell him he can take it all back to Hell with him.  Tell him he’s not going to tempt you into his evil ways any longer.  Halleluiah brothers and sisters.  Come along with me and take the Path to Jesus.”