The farmer was so much preoccupied with his gloomy thoughts that he scarcely appreciated at first the nature of the service which Templeton offered to render. This, as Eves pointed out afterwards, was partly due to Templeton’s manner of broaching the subject. "Your jaw about irrigation and the Punjab was enough to put him off it," said Eves, who was nothing if not frank. "Of course, the old countryman didn’t understand; he understood right enough when I chipped in. There’s nothing like what old Dicky Bird, when you do a rotten construe, calls _sancta simplicitas_." Between them they managed to explain the idea to Mr. Trenchard, and to win his assent. Indeed, the chance of saving his crops had a magical effect on his spirits. "It do mean a mighty deal to me," he said; "more’n you’ve any right notion of. I wish ’ee success, that I do." They started work on the following morning. From the rocky banks of the stream they rolled down a number of stones and boulders and piled them in the channel to the height of the ridge, forming two adjacent sides of a square. Then up stream they cut a quantity of brushwood, which, being set afloat, was carried by the water against the piled-up stones. This occupied them the whole day, and they left for the next the final operation—the digging of earth to stop up the interstices through which the water still flowed away, and the carrying of it in wheelbarrows to its dumping places. It was while they were digging that Lieutenant Cradock arrived to interrogate them about the conscientious objections of Nahum Noakes. About half an hour after his departure Nahum’s father appeared on the scene, breathless from hurrying up the hill from the village. He had pumped Constable Haylock, who was a simple soul, and had learnt enough about the recent interview to feel a gnawing anxiety as to the fate of his beloved Nahum. He was hatless, and wore his apron, with which he wiped the shining dew from his face as he stood watching the diggers. "Marnen, gen’l’men," he said, presently, in the tone of one who would be a friend. "’Tis warm work ’ee be at, surely." "A warm day, Mr. Noakes," said Templeton, resting on his spade. Eves went on digging. "Ay, sure, ’tis warm for the time o’ year, so ’tis. Vallyble work; if there be one thing I do admire, ’tis to see young gen’l’men go forth unto their labour until the evening, as the Book says—earning their bread with the sweat of their brow. Ah, ’tis a true word." Templeton was too modest to acknowledge this compliment. Eves went on digging. Mr. Noakes hemmed a little, and stroked his beard.