The oat harvest was ready.

The reaping machines were already in the fields far and near, making noise like that of some new enormous insect of rattling throat.

From roadside trees the cicada vied with them, making the welkin ring.
There were labourers at various occupations in the fields, but on the dusty stretch of road there was only one traveller to be seen in front of the two companions.

When they gained upon him they recognised the old preacher who went by the name of Cameron.

The poor old wanderer had been a nine days' wonder; now his presence elicited no comment.