“No man in Zanah can own anything. If the Bible should be given to Gerson Brandt it would still belong to the colony, and it could be sold again.” The simple one had thrown himself upon the ground, and, with chin in his hands and elbows dug deeply in the earth, he appeared to be thinking. “Tell me about the Bible,” urged Everett, and he waited as impatiently for the village fool to speak as if some matter of tremendous importance to him, the man of affairs out in the great world, hung in the balance. There was something almost absurd in the contrast between the two who talked there in the summer afternoon. Stephen Everett was a man to be noticed anywhere. It was not altogether his physical beauty that invariably commanded attention; he had an unusual charm of personality. Hans Peter, with his long, straight tow hair tangled upon his big, round head, kicked his earth-stained feet in the air as he lay at length upon the ground. His blue cotton shirt, torn down the back, revealed a strip of white skin, and his baggy trousers were held by the one button which attached them to a knitted suspender. The pocket in the back of his trousers bulged with one of the gourds that he carried with him wherever he went. “I am waiting for you to tell me about the Bible,” Everett remarked, when he had smoked half of his cigar. Hans Peter reached back and removed the gourd from his pocket. Then, sitting up, he began to examine it carefully. “It was long ago that it came to Hans Peter one day, as he watched Gerson Brandt at work with his bright inks, that the school-master’s thoughts were on Walda Kellar as he made the gay letters in the great book. Lest the fool might forget, he marked on his gourd some lines to make him remember. Many times after that he saw that the school-master was praying for her who would be inspired. Hans Peter knew that the Bible was for Walda Kellar, and that the school-master meant it for her to read every day when she should become an instrument of the Lord. That is why Gerson Brandt loved the Bible. That is why no other man should have it.” Everett left his place at the tree, and, pacing back and forth, pondered for a few moments upon the information that the simple one had given him. “Ah, the school-master is a second father to Walda Kellar, I suppose?” he said, presently, casting a furtive glance at the fool. “Nay, he hath not years enough to make it right he should love her as a father,” declared Hans Peter, nodding his head. “The simple one hath been taught that love is a wicked thing, but there is in Gerson Brandt’s heart something that may be love, like that with which he worships angels.” “Again I tell you, Hans Peter, you are the wisest of all the colonists in Zanah,” said Everett. “There, go about your errands.” “But thou wilt promise not to buy the Bible, even if it is ever found?” said Hans Peter, coming close to Everett and lowering his voice.