He made his way to where Greenstream village lay somnolent beneath the refulgent day. The chairs before the office of the _Bugle_ were unoccupied, from within came the monotonous, sliding rattle of the small footpress. Gordon sat absently revolving the possibilities held out by the near future. Hay, he knew was still being made in the valley, but the prospect of long, arduous, days in the open fields, in the hot, dry chaff of the sere grass, was forbidding. He might take his gun and a few personal necessities and disappear into such wild as yet remained, contracting steadily before the inexorable, smooth advance of civilization. He was aware that he could manage a degree of comfort, adequate food. But the thoughtless resiliency of sheer youth had deserted him, the desire for mere, picturesque adventure had fled during the past, comfortable years. He dismissed contemptuously the possibility of clerking in a local store. There was that still in the Makimmon blood which balked at measuring ribbands, selling calico to captious women. The large, suave figure of the Universalist minister, in grey alpaca coat and black trousers, approached leisurely over the street, and stopped before Gordon. The minister had a conspicuously well-fed paunch, his smooth face expressed placid self-approval, his tones never for a moment lost the unctuous echo of the pulpiteer. "You have not worshipped with us lately," he observed. "Remiss, remiss. Our services have been stirring--three souls redeemed from everlasting torment at the Wednesday meeting, two adults and a child sealed to Christ on Sunday." "I'll drop in," Gordon told him pacifically. "A casual phrase to apply to the Mansion of the Son," the minister observed, "more humility would become you.... God, I pray Thee that Thy fire descend upon this unhappy man and consume utterly away his carnal envelope. What are you doing?" he demanded abruptly of Gordon. "Nothing particular just now." "There are some small occupations about the parsonage--a board or so loose on the ice house, a small field of provender for the animal. Let us say a week's employment for a ready man. I could pay but a modest stipend ... but the privilege of my home, the close communion with our Maker. You would be as my brother: what do you say?" Gordon was well aware of the probable extent of the "small occupations," the minister's reputation for exacting monumental labors in return for the "modest stipend" mentioned. However, the proposal furnished Gordon with a solution for immediate difficulties; it secured him a bed and food, an opportunity for the maturing of further plans. He rose, queried, "Shall I go right along?" "Admirable," the other approved. "My beloved helpmate will show you where the tools are kept, when you can begin immediately."