“I thank you,” said Farr. “If you will give me some food in my hands I'll take myself out of your way.”
That afternoon Jared Chick came over the hill where the trowels clinked and the great derrick complained with its pulleys. He carried his armor on his back.
He stopped and watched for some time his former companion of the road, who was sweating over his man's toil.
“May I have sixty seconds off to speak with that man yonder?” Farr asked the contractor. “It partly concerns your business.”
The big man nodded surly assent.
“Thee sees I have taken off the armor for a time. I will wear it in the city where horses and people are not so silly. What is thee doing here?”
“I have no time to talk about myself, Friend Chick. I want to ask you if you are still of the same mind about your mission?”
“I am.”
“Then throw down that hardware and come to work on this job. A man has been hurt here—his wife is in need. Earn some money and give it to them.”
“But my mission concerns the world—the wide world.”