We lit our pipes in silence, sensible of an extraordinary depression in the moral atmosphere.  Five minutes before we had been much elated.  The spring round-up of cattle was over; we had sold our bunch of steers at the top price; the money lay in our small safe; we had been talking of a modest celebration as we rode home over the foothills.  Now, to use the metaphor of a cow county, we had been brought up with a sharp turn!  Our prosperity, measured by the ill-fortune of a fellow-countryman, dwindled.  Ajax summed up the situation:  “He made me feel cheap.”

“Why?” I asked, conscious of a similar feeling.  Ajax smoked and reflected.

“It’s like this,” he answered presently.  “That chap has been to the bottom of the pit, but he bobs up with a smile.  Did you notice his smile?”

I rang the bell for Quong, our Chinese servant.  When he came in I told him to prepare a hot bath.  Ajax whistled; but as Quong went away, looking rather cross, my brother added, “Our clothes will fit him.”

The bath-house was outside.  Quong carried in a couple of pails full of boiling water; we laid out shaving tackle, an old suit of grey flannel, a pair of brown shoes, and the necessary under-linen.  A blue bird’s-eye tie, I remember, was the last touch.  Then Ajax shrugged his shoulders and said significantly, “You know what this means?”

“Rehabilitation.”

“Exactly.  It may be fun for us to rig out this poor devil, but we must do more than feed and clothe him.  Have you thought of that?”

I had not, and said so.

“This is an experiment.  First and last, we’re going to try to raise a man from the dead.  If we get him on to his pins, we’ll have to supply some crutches.  Are you prepared to do that?”

“If you are.”

“Right!  Of course, he may refuse our help.  It wouldn’t surprise me a little bit if he did refuse.”

When our preparations were complete, we returned to the barn.  In a few words Ajax told the stranger of what had been done.

“After supper,” he concluded, “we’ll talk things over.  Times are rather good just now, and something can be arranged.”

“You’re very kind,” replied the tramp; “but I think you had better leave me in the barn.”

“We can’t,” said my brother.  “It’s too beastly to think of you like this.”

Nevertheless, we had to argue the matter, and I ought to add that although we prevailed in the end, both Ajax and I were aware that the man’s acceptance of what we offered imposed an obligation upon us rather than upon him.  As he was about to enter the bath-house, he turned with the derisive smile on his lips—­

“If it amuses you,” he murmured, “I shall have earned my bath and supper.”

When he reappeared, nobody would have recognised him.  So far, the experiment had succeeded beyond expectation.  A new man walked into our sitting-room and glanced with intelligent interest at our household gods.  Over the mantel-piece hung an etching of the Grand Canal at Venice.  He surveyed it critically, putting up a pair of thin hands, as so to shut off an excess of light.