is time of year. What kind of a fly would you use for--
I mean, you go back to your cage and confine your attention to the K-L
ledger."

A two hours walk in the Westchester hills would have made these two men
brothers. Instead, Hendrik allowed himself to fill up with that anger
which is apt to become indignation, and thus lead to freedom. Anger is
wrath over injury; indignation is wrath over injustice: hence the
freedom.

"I am worth more to the bank than I'm getting. If the bank wants me to
stay--"

"Hendrik, I'll do you a favor. Go out and take a walk. Come back in ten
minutes--cured!

"Thanks, Mr. Coster. But suppose I still want a raise when I come back?

"Then I'll accept your resignation."

"But I don't want to resign. I want to be worth still more to the bank
so that the bank will be only too glad to pay me more. I don't want to
live and die a clerk. That would be stupid for me, and also for the
bank."

"Take the walk, Hen. Then come back and see me."

"What good will that do me?"

"As far as I can see, it will enable you to be fired by no less than the
Big Chief himself. Tell Morson you are going to do something for me.
Walk around and look at the people--thousands of them; they are working!
Don't forget that, Hen; working; _making regular wages_! Good luck, my
boy. I've never done this before, but you caught me fishing. I had just
hooked a three-pounder," he finished, apologetically.

Hendrik was suffocating as he returned to his cage. He did not think; he
felt--felt that everything was wrong with a civilization that kept both
wild beasts and bank clerks in cages. He put on his hat, told the head
bookkeeper he was going on an errand for Mr. Coster, and left the bank.

The sky was pure blue and the clouds pure white. There was in the air
that which even when strained through the bank's window-screens had made
Hendrik so restless. To breathe it, outdoors, made the step more
elastic, the heartbeats more vigorous, the thoughts more vivid, the
resolve stronger. The chimneys were waving white plumes in the bright
air--waving toward heaven! He wished to hear the song of freedom of
streams escaping from the mountains, of the snow-elves liberated by the
sun; to hear birds with the spring in their throats admitting it, and
the impatient breeze telling the awakening trees to hurry up with the
sap. Instead, he heard the noises that civilized people make when they
make money. Also, whenever he ceased to look u