"Good night, Doctor! Good night, Mr. Matthews!"
"Good night!" they answered, and the Doctor called after him, "Did you
find your man, John?"
"No," shouted the other, "I did not. If you run across anyone send 'em
out will you?"
"There goes a mighty fine fellow," commented the old physician.
"Seems to be," agreed Dan thoughtfully. "Where does he live?"
The Doctor told him, adding, "I wouldn't call until harvest is over, if
I were you. He really wouldn't have time to give you and he'd probably
tell you so." Which advice Dan received in silence.
The sun was just up the next morning when John Gardner was hitching his
team to the big hay wagon. Already the smoke was coming from the stack
of the threshing engine, that stood with the machine in the center of the
field, and the crew was coming from the cook-wagon. Two hired men, with
another team and wagon, were already gathering a load of sheaves to haul
to the threshers.
The house dog barked fiercely and the farmer paused with a trace in his
hand when he saw a big man turning into the barn lot from the road.
"Good morning!" called Dan cheerily, "I feared I was going to be late."
He swung up to the young fellow who stood looking at him--too astonished
to speak--the unhooked trace still in his hand.
"I understand that you need a hand," said Dan briefly. And the farmer
noticed that the minister was dressed in a rough suit of clothes, a worn
flannel shirt and an old slouch hat--Dan's fishing rig.
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