or the man who bestrode a horse; but it was the elder Garstang whom Yen Sung saluted with grave courtesy.
"I seek one," he said, with an air of perfect self-possession, "bearing the illustrious name Ga-tang. A wayfarer, following the sun, spoke of the rider upon a horse who offered a just reward to all who would labour in his fields."
Surprise held them for a moment, but it was plain beyond all mistake that this strange being was offering his services as a harvester.
"I don't think that it's work you would care about, unless you've been used to it," said Garstang doubtfully, his conservative ideas of the fixed order of things not quite at ease.
"Try," replied Yen Sung laconically. "Not work honourably, not pay honourably."
"I am giving half-a-crown a day, overtime, and bagging," remarked Garstang technically.
"It is sufficient," replied Yen Sung with the dignity of a Mandarin of the Sapphire Button. Why should he admit to these barbarians that he had not the remotest idea of what any of the three inducements comprised?
"But, Mr. Garstang," interposed Harold, "surely you are not going to engage him?"
"Yea," replied Garstang, regarding the young man with his shrewd, placid gaze. "May as well, Harold. We can't pick and choose now."
"But just think what sort of a man you are bringing into the neighbourhood, sir," urged Harold. "One of the most degraded race on the face of the earth—a pagan and an idol worshipper."
Garstang opened his eyes in gentle surprise. He was a staunch Churchman, but it was not the custom—to state the case mildly—to carry religious tests into the harvest-field. Nor, unless innuendo missed its mark,
