nces of heresy and schism. The
pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat cutaway
coat bore smears of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the roller
and the telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of course be
easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided not to
abandon it yet.

Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine would at
any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it would leave no
trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows and pastures, carrying
a devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday afternoon. Regaining a macadam
surface, he set oil at random, causing considerable annoyance to
the motoring public. Finding that his cutaway coat caused jeers and
merriment, he removed it; and when any one showed a disposition to
inquire, he explained that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager.
His oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and he
bought a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. Cheering himself
with this, and reviewing in his mind the queer experiences of the past
months, he went thundering mildly on.

At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the Bishop, or
even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for the event. He
had imagined them speeding after him in a huge motor-bus, and himself
keeping them at bay with lumps of coal. But gradually he realized that
the Bishop would not further jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of
making himself ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township
road commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for
the theft of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so quickly. In
the meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, but it would require
darkness for its execution.

Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from road
to road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner while he
jovially held out his arm as a sign that he was going to turn, dark
purple clouds were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a storm, he bought
some provisions at a roadhouse, and turned into a field, where he
camped in the lee of a forest of birches. He cooked himself an excellent
supper, toasting bread and frankfurters in the firebox of the roller.
With boiling water from a steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat
placidly admiring the fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses,
tawny as a pant