He suddenly turned his head, and his eyes rested upon Piers with the serenity of a man at peace with his own soul.  “That’s about all my story,” he said with simplicity.  “I got the strength for the job, and so carried it through.  When my uncle died, I was left in command, and I’ve stuck to it ever since.  But I took a partner a few years back, and now I’ve handed over the whole thing to him and I’m going Home at last to my old mother.”

“Going to settle in England?” asked Piers.

Crowther shook his head.  “Not now, lad.  I couldn’t.  There’s too much to be done.  No; I’m going to fulfil my old ambitions if I can.  I’m going to get myself ordained.  After that—­”

He paused, for Piers had turned to stare at him in open amazement.  “You!” he ejaculated.

Crowther’s smile came over his face like a spreading light.  “You don’t think much of parsons, I gather, sonny,” he said.

Piers broke into his sudden laugh.  “Not as a tribe, I admit.  I can’t stand any man who makes an ass of himself, whatever his profession.  But of course I don’t mean to assert that all parsons answer to that description.  I’ve met a few I liked.”

Crowther’s smile developed into a laugh.  “Then you, won’t deprive me of the pleasure of your friendship if I become one?”

“My dear chap,” said Piers forcibly, “if you became the biggest blackguard in creation, you would remain my friend.”

It was regally spoken, but the speaker was plainly so unconscious of arrogance that Crowther’s hand came out to him and lay for a moment on his arm.  “I gathered that, sonny,” he said gently.

Piers’ eyes flashed sympathy.  “And what are you going to do then?  You say you’re not going to settle in England?”

“I am not,” said Crowther, and again he was looking out ahead of him with eyes that spanned the far distance.  “No; I’m going back again to the old haunts.  There’s a thundering lot to do there.  It’s more than a one-man job.  But, please God, I’ll do what I can.  I know I can do a little.  It’s a hell of a place, sonny.  You saw the outside edge of it yourself.”

Piers nodded without speaking.  It had been in a sense his baptism of fire.

“It’s the new chums I want to get hold of,” Crowther said.  “They get drawn in so devilishly easily.  They’re like children, many of ’em, trying to walk on quicksands.  They’re bound to go in, bound to go under, and a big percentage never come up again.  It’s the children I want to help.  I hate to think of fresh, clean lives being thrown on to the dust-heap.  It’s so futile,—­such a crying waste.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” said Piers.

“Ah!  I wonder.  It won’t be easy, but I know their temptations so awfully well.  I’ve seen scores go under, I’ve been under myself.  And that makes a lot of difference.”

“Life is infernally difficult for most of us,” said Piers.

They rode in silence for awhile, and then he changed the subject.