There was a special reason why Douglas Stanton walked slowly along the road leading from the railway station through the parish of Rixton. It was a warm, beautiful evening, and the magnificent scenery so appealed to him that he had not the heart to hurry. How good it was to be away from the noise and dust of the city! Here he could breathe the pure, fresh air, listen to the music of the birds, and rest his eyes upon meadows, flowers and trees. He felt at home, and the spirit of childhood days possessed him. He longed to wade in every brook he saw, and roll in the grass by the side of the road.

He had walked about five miles and was somewhat tired, as he was carrying a large bag over his shoulder, and his precious violin case under his arm. He was no longer dressed in his clerical garb, but was plain John Handyman in rough work-a-day clothes. He enquired the way from several people he met, and these had looked with curiosity upon the bag and box he was carrying.

"Huntin' for work, eh?" the last man he had accosted asked. "Well,
Jake Jukes wants a man in the worst way. Heard him say so last night.
He lives about half a mile further on. Ye can't mistake the place, for
it's just across the road from the rectory."

"How will I know the rectory when I come to it?" Douglas enquired.

"Oh, ye can't mistake it very well. It is a big house with shutters on the windows, and tall grass all around. It's been closed up for about a year now."

This was just the information Douglas needed, and thanking the man, he moved on his way. Presently, the road dipped into a wooded valley, and part way down the hill, Douglas espied a large barrel overflowing with clear, sparkling water. Stopping, he opened his bag and drew forth a small tin cup. This he filled with water, and then withdrew a short distance among the trees and sat down upon the mossy ground. Mrs. Garton had thoughtfully provided him with a generous lunch, and this he now opened and spread out before him. He was hungry, so the sandwiches and cold meat seemed the best he had ever tasted. There was a piece of pie, as well as cake, for dessert, and what more could a king desire? he asked himself. How delightful it was to lie there and rest in such a quiet place. He was free to come and go as he wished, and not shackled by any rules of conventional life. The whole country was his to wander at will. Why should he not do it? He had only himself to care for, and his strong arms could provide the simple necessities of daily life. Why spend his time in the service of others, when his efforts were either misunderstood or not appreciated? He was tired of being dictated to, and told what to do. He was just as able to look after his own affairs as the Bishop and Dr. Rannage. They did not care a snap for him, neither did the Church, for that matter. He was but a fly on one of the wheels of the great ecclesiastical machine, and counted for nothing.

Such thoughts appealed to Douglas more than ever before, and he meditated upon them as he once more continued on his way. He had been trained to look with suspicion upon people who held such views, but now he realised how attractive they were, and worthy of more careful consideration. Life, after all, was not summed up in the books he had studied, nor in the knowledge he had acquired while at college. No, there was the great pulsing world all around him, and why should he go through it fettered in soul, mind and body?

Thinking thus, he came to the rectory. The gate leading into the yard was closed. This he pushed open, entered, and walked around the house. Signs of neglect and decay were most apparent. The building had not been painted for years, and the shingles on the roof were in a bad condition. Grass and weeds ran riot right up to the very windows. He tried both the front and back doors but they were fastened.

Amidst this scene of desolation, Douglas stood and looked out over the land connected with the rectory. There were several acres, sloping gently to the river about two hundred yards away. Trees lined the shore, and his attention was especially attracted to one large elm which towered gracefully above its fellows. Only a small part of the land surrounding the rectory had been cultivated. The rest, which had been used for pasturage, was covered with small bushes. Several apple trees stood back of the house, but these had not been trimmed for years, and the bark and moss were thick upon their trunks. "My, how I would like to get to work upon this place," Douglas thought, as he moved over toward the small orchard. "They seem to be good trees, and when once well scraped and their tops thinned out, they should bear well. Why, a man with some knowledge of farming could make a comfortable living in a few years on such a place as this."

Near the orchard was a barn, with the two big doors off their hinges, having been injured evidently by the wind. There was nothing in the barn except a pile of old hay lying upon the floor. "That looks good to me," Douglas mused. "I shall have a soft bed to-night, anyway. It is getting dark, and I might as well stay here as anywhere. I wonder what the people of this parish would say if they knew that their future clergyman is occupying the rectory barn. He might have a worse place, though, and perhaps he may before he is through."

Douglas was tired and slept soundly. The night was warm, and his coat was all the covering he needed. It seemed to him that he had been sleeping but a short time when he was awakened by a strange and yet familiar noise. Opening his eyes, he could not for a moment imagine where he was. Before him, and just outside the door, a herd of cattle was trooping past. They were much startled to see a man lying in the barn, and several of them had given vent to coarse bellows as they stood staring in upon him. Presently he heard a man's voice shouting to the cattle to "git along out of that. What's the matter with ye, anyway?" Then a stick was hurled at them, which caused them to scamper away. Soon the man appeared, and when he saw what had caused the commotion among the cattle, he, too, stood and stared in amazement for a few seconds. Then he took several steps forward, and held up the stout stick he was carrying in his hand.

"Hi, what are ye doin' there?" he demanded.

"Haven't you eyes to see for yourself?" Douglas asked in reply.

"But don't ye know that this is private property?"

"That's just the reason I'm here. It's so very private that it suits me fine."

"You have no business sleepin' in this barn."

"I'm not sleeping. I am as wide awake as you are. Do you own this place?"

"No, but I have charge of it. It's Church property, and as I live jist across the road I have been asked to keep an eye over it an' put all intruders off."

Douglas liked the appearance of this fellow, notwithstanding his pugnacious manner. He had an honest face, and bright blue eyes, in whose depths lurked a merry twinkle. He took it for granted that this was Jake Jukes who wanted a farm hand.

"Come and put me off, then," Douglas quietly remarked, as he rose slowly to his feet. "I am anxious for a little excitement. It will give me an appetite for my breakfast."

"Where are you goin' to git it?" the farmer asked.

"At your place."

"At my place!"

"Certainly. You are Jake Jukes, are you not? You want a man to help with your haying, and I am going to stay."

"Great punkins! How d'ye know who I am?" and Jake looked his astonishment.

"Oh, never mind that. Do you want me? That is more important."

"Well, I do need help very bad, but I must know what wages ye want before I hire ye. I can't make an offer until I find out what ye kin do."

"I'll work a week with you for board and lodging. That will give you time to try me out, and then you will know what I am worth. I'll bet almost anything, though, that I am just as good a man as you are."

"Ho, ho," Jake laughed. "As good a man as I am! Ye don't know what ye're sayin'. Would ye like to try a back-hold with me? There isn't a man in the whole parish of Rixton who has been able to put me down yit, though many of 'em have tried."

As a lad at school, and also while at college, Douglas had excelled in wrestling, but for several years he had not engaged in the sport, and was not in proper condition. He knew that if it came to the matter of physical endurance he would have little chance against this sturdy farmer. But it was necessary for him to do something of a worthy nature at the outset of his career in this parish.

"So you think you can put me down, do you?" he asked, as he stepped from the barn out upon the grass. "Well, then, here's your opportunity."

Nothing loath, Jake accepted the challenge, and in a trice the two were locked together in a friendly yet desperate encounter. Douglas soon found that Jake was depending mostly upon his great strength of body to win, and that he was acquainted with hardly any of the tricks of the game. He, therefore, watched his opportunity, at the same time being careful not to allow his opponent to make use of his bear-like crushing grip. This was what Jake was striving for, and he was much worried when he found that he could not carry out the plan which had always proved so effective in the past. He became puzzled, and so confused that ere long he allowed himself to be caught off guard, with the result that his feet went suddenly from under him and he came to the ground upon his hack with a thud. The shock affected his pride more than it did his body, especially when his opponent sat upon him and smiled calmly down into his face.

"Are you satisfied now?" Douglas asked. "You may get up if you are."

"Great punkins!" Jake exclaimed, as he scrambled to his feet. "How in the world did ye do it? Ye're the first one who ever put me down, blister me shins if ye ain't."

"Oh, you are an easy mark," Douglas replied. "Why, I didn't half try."

"Ye didn't!" and Jake's eyes and mouth opened wide in amazement. "What could ye have done if ye really tried?"

Douglas was amused at Jake's astonishment.

"Are you willing to hire me now?" he asked. "Perhaps you want some further proof of my ability to hold my own?"

"I don't want to try any more back-holds with ye," Jake ruefully replied, as he rubbed his bruised right shoulder. "Ye've got the cinch on me in that game all right, and I'd like to know how ye did it. But I'll try ye in runnin', and if ye beat me in that ye're a better all round man than I am."

"All right," Douglas laughingly assented. "How far shall we run? I guess we'll have big appetites after all this morning's exercise."

"See that tree?" and Jake pointed to the graceful elm down by the shore. "Let's run down around that an' back to this barn."

"I'm ready," Douglas cried. "One, two, three, go!" he shouted.

They got a fair start and bounded over the field like two greyhounds slipped from the leash. Shoulder to shoulder they ran, and by the time they reached the tree there was not the slightest difference between them. They both strove for the advantage of the upper ground in drawing near the elm, with the result that they nearly collided with each other. With a whoop Jake took the lead in his dash around the tree, with Douglas right at his heels. But at that instant a form leaped suddenly to his feet with a wild cry of fear, and then went down again as the two runners dashed into him, and then sprawled full length forward.

Douglas was first to recover, for Jake had some difficulty in extricating himself from the thicket of tangled bushes into which he had plunged. Standing nearby was the cause of their mishap. He was a tall, lank youth of about seventeen, very thinly clad, and bare-footed. His expression of fear had changed to one of astonishment as he watched the two intruders upon his quietness.

As soon as Jake had scrambled to his feet and saw who it was who had caused the disaster, he rushed straight toward the motionless youth.

"Ye good fer nothin' thing!" he roared, "I'll teach ye to be layin' round here at night. Take that, ye goat!" and he administered a sound box upon the youth's ear.

The lad gave vent to a howl of pain, and tried to get away, but Jake held him in a firm grip and was about to repeat the blow when Douglas interfered.

"Here, let up on that," he ordered, at the same time laying a firm hand upon Jake's arm.

"But he deserves to be thumped," the latter insisted. "He's Empty in name and empty in head, that's what he is. What business has he to be sleepin' behind this tree?"

"He has as much business to be here as we have," Douglas defended, "and don't you dare to touch him again. Take your hands off him, or you'll go down quicker than you did up by the barn."

The memory of his recent defeat was so fresh in Jake's mind that reluctantly he relinquished his hold upon the youth's arm.

"I'll let ye off this time," he growled, "but don't let me ever catch ye hangin' around this place agin."

"I wasn't doin' nuthin'," the lad protested, speaking for the first time.

"Ye've been up to some mischief," Jake charged.

"No, I haven't."

"What have ye been doin', then?"

"Fishin'; that's what I've been doin', and I came here to git a little sleep."

"Where's yer net?"

"Out there," and the lad pointed with his finger across the water.
"Didn't ye know I was fishin'?"

"Naw, never heard of ye workin' before. Ho, ho, that's a good one! To think of Empty Dempster workin'! What's goin' to happen!"

At that instant the blast of a tin horn fell upon their ears, which caused Jake to start and look across the field.

"Great punkins!" he exclaimed. "It's Susie, an' I fergot all about them cows!"