That it was inconvenient Peter, after his months of experience at the factory, agreed only too cordially. Many a shower had fallen and more than once had he been forced to rush out into the yard at the sound of the whistle and help the others drag the half dry stock to a place of shelter. Since the difficulty was one not to be obviated it was accepted good-humoredly as an evil necessary to this branch of leather manufacture. "I tell you what, Nat, some day science has got to find a way to get rid of certain obstacles that stand in the path of making leather," declared Peter. "Somebody must invent an unhairing device to do away with the taking off of the white hair by hand. You'd better try your brain at the puzzle. Another chance for you to make yourself famous is to think out a machine for softening fine leather that will take the place of knee-staking. Still another opportunity to write your name in golden letters across the tanneries of the world is to perfect a patent leather varnish that will dry indoors. Now there are three roads to fortune open to you, old man. You'd better select one." Nat grinned. "After you, Peter," said he. "You choose your path to fame first and I will follow." "I'll leave the fame to you, Nat," laughed Peter. "Somehow I've never aspired to be famous--it's lucky for me, I guess, that I haven't, too." But fame came to Peter notwithstanding--came that very day, and in a way he did not at all expect. Directly after lunch he was sent by Mr. Tolman to the office in Factory 1 to carry some samples of finished leather to Mr. Tyler. Little dreaming how eventful was to be his errand he set out, whistling as he went. Mr. Tyler was busy that afternoon, so busy that he glanced hurriedly at the samples of stock, gave Peter a roughly scrawled message to take back, and dismissed him. Now it happened that the patent leather plant was quite a little walk from the other factories, for the site purchased for it was far less convenient than the old ball field would have been. A dusty stretch of road intervened which wound its way to the summit of a rise of ground and then sloped gradually down to the yard of the new factory. Peter ambled up this hill none too swiftly, for the day was hot, and on reaching its crest he was surprised to notice that although the sun was shining brightly overhead across the green marshes to the east a shower was stealing in from the distant sea. Instantly his mind flew to the tannery. The patent leather would have to be rushed in. To-day an unusually large quantity of stock was sunning on the racks, and it would take the united efforts of all hands to get it under cover before the approaching storm reached the factory yards. Even now the warning whistle should be sounding. Peter stood still and listened. But no discordant blast broke the stillness. He quickened his steps. Despite the cloudless blue of the heavens the wall of mist with its burden of rain was steadily creeping nearer.