pon your soul's
mortgage; your Savior resides in the heart of the Grass--withhold not
your precious soul from Him. At this very moment the Forerunner is being
sanctified and after her there will come the Ox to eat the Grass and
then the end of the world. Give Brother Paul your worthless earthly
possessions, give your soul to Jesus and hasten that glorious day.
Hallelujah!"

The fervid jumble ended in a near scream. What a waste of oratorical and
perhaps organizational energy, I mused as I strode along rapidly, still
intent on escaping the fanatic. Under different circumstances, I
thought, a man like this might turn out to be a capable clerk or minor
executive. Suddenly I had a hunch.

"Mr--?"

"Brother Paul. I have no earthly name."

"I wish youd come with me for a few minutes; I have a proposition which
might interest you."

In the darkness I could see him peering at me suspiciously. "Is this
some worldly seduction from the Christian path?"

"I think you will find what I have to offer a material aid to your
church."

"I have no church," he said. "We are Christians and recognize no manmade
institution."

"Well, then, to your movement or whatever you call it." In spite of his
reluctance, which was now as great as mine had been originally, I
persuaded him to accompany me. He sat uneasily forward while I told him
who I was and sketched the plan for collecting some of the Grass.

"What is this to me? I have long ago put aside all material thoughts and
now care only for the life of the spirit."

This must be true, I thought, noting his shabby clothes, sweatgreasy
muffler at once hiding and revealing lack of necktie, and cracked shoes,
one sock brown, the other black. "It is this to you: if you don't want
the salary and bonus attached to organizing and superintending the
expedition--and I am prepared to be generous--you can turn it over to
Brother Paul. I imagine it will be acceptable."

He shook his head, muttering, "Satan, Satan." The lower part of his face
was wide and divided horizontally, like an inverted jellymold. It
tapered up into bracketing ears, supporting gingery eaves. I pressed
home my arguments.

"I will put your proposition to Brother Paul," he conceded at length.

"I thought distinctions between one man and another were worldly and
trivial," I prodded him. "Arent you Brother Paul?"

"Satan, Satan," he repeated.

I'm sure it could have been nothing but one of those flashes of
intuition for