The third, Sam gathered, had not done well and from
something the old man said he thought she had perhaps gone the wrong way
there in Chicago.
To the old man Sam talked of God and of a man's effort to get truth out of
life.
"I have thought of it a lot," he said.
The old man was interested. He looked at Sam and then out at the car
window and began talking of his own beliefs, the substance of which Sam
could not get.
"God is a spirit and lives in the growing corn," said the old man,
pointing out the window at the passing fields.
He began talking of churches and of ministers, against whom he was filled
with bitterness.
"They are dodgers. They do not get at things. They are damned dodgers,
pretending to be good," he declared.
Sam talked of himself, saying that he was alone in the world and had
money. He said that he wanted work in the open air, not for the money it
would bring him, but because his paunch was large and his hand trembled in
the morning.
"I've been drinking," he said, "and I want to work hard day after day so
that my muscles may become firm and sleep come to me at night."
The old man thought that his son could find Sam a place.
"He's a driver--Ed is," he said, laughing, "and he won't pay you much.
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