From time to time
he passed churches, unpainted frame buildings with sheet iron
steeples, surrounded by tethered teams and shabby motorcars, and
it seemed to him that each of them was a picket-post where the
rear guards of Circumstance peeped fleetingly back at him. “And
damn You, too,” he said, “See if You can stop me,” thinking of
himself, his file of soldiers with the manacled sheriff in the rear,
dragging Omnipotence down from His throne, if necessary; of the
embattled legions of both hel...