t would be quite in keeping
with the customs of the country if he was."

A minute or two later Agatha saw Winifred in the wagon when it
reappeared from behind the straw-pile, and Mrs. Hastings turned toward
the window.

"She has gone with him," she commented significantly. "Unfortunately, he
has taken my kiddies too. If he brings them back with no bones broken it
will be a relief to me."

CHAPTER XII

WANDERERS

Agatha had spent a month with Mrs. Hastings. When they were driving over
to Wyllard's homestead one afternoon, the older woman pulled up her team
while they were still some little distance away from their destination,
and looked about her with evident interest. On the one hand, a vast
breadth of torn-up loam ran back across the prairie, which was now
faintly flecked with green. On the other, plowing teams were scattered
here and there across the tussocky sod, and long lines of clods that
flashed where the sunlight struck their facets trailed out behind them.
The great sweep of grasses that rustled joyously before a glorious warm
wind, gleamed luminously, and overhead hung a vault of blue without a
cloud in it. Trailing out across it, flocks of birds moved up from the
south.

"Harry is sowing a very big crop this year, and most of it on fall
back-set," she observed. "He has, however, horses enough to do that kind
of thing, and, of course, he does it thoroughly." She glanced toward the
place where the teams were hauling unusually heavy plows through the
grassy sod. "This is virgin prairie that he's breaking, and he'll
probably put oats on it. They ripen quicker. He ought to be a rich man
after harvest unless the frost comes, or the market goes against him.
Some of his neighbors, including my husband, would have sown a little
less and held a reserve in hand."

Agatha remembered what Wyllard had told her one night on board the
_Scarrowmania_, and smiled, for she fancied that she understood the man.
He was not one to hedge, as she had heard it called, or cautiously hold
his hand. He staked boldly, but she felt that this was not only for the
sake of the money that he might hope to gain. It was part of his
nature--the result of an optimistic faith or courage that appealed to
her, and sheer love of effort. She also guessed that his was not a
spasmodic, impulsive activity. She could imagine him holding on as
steadfastly with everything against him, exacting all that men and teams
and machines could do.