dooryard by plowing out there in front of the
house. Isn't there ground enough if the wind will be merciful, not to use
up our lawn?" Virginia would not be serious.

"I have plowed a double fireguard, and I've burned off the grass between
the two to put a wide band of protection about us. I take no chances.
Everything is master in the wilderness except man. When he has tamed all
these things--prairie fire, storm and drouth, winds and lonely distances,
why, there isn't any more wilderness. But it's tough work getting
acclimated to these September breezes, I know."

Virginia did not reply at once. All day the scream of the wind had whipped
upon her nerves until she wanted to scream herself. But it was not in the
blood of the breed to give up easily. Something of the stubborn
determination that had made the oldtime Thaines drive the Quakers from
Virginia shone now in the dark eyes of this daughter of a well-bred
house.

"It's all a matter of getting one's system and this September wind system
to play the same tune," she said.

"Virginia, you look just as you did that day when you said you were going
through the Rebel ranks in a man's dress to take a message for me to the
Union officer of my command, although you ran the risk of being shot for a
spy on either side of the lines. When I begged you not to do it, you only
laughed at me. I thought then you were the bravest girl I ever saw. Now I
know it."

"Well, I'll try not to get hysterical over the wind out here. It is a
matter of time and adjustment. Let's adjust ourselves to dinner now."

Beyond her lightly spoken words Asher caught the undertone of courage, and
he knew that a battle for supremacy was on, a struggle between physical
outcry and mental poise.

After the meal, he said, "I must take my plow down to Shirley's this
afternoon. His is broken and I can mend it while he puts in his fireguard
with mine. I don't mind the wind, but I won't ask you to face it clear
down to Shirley's claim. I don't like to leave you here, either."

"I think I would rather stay indoors. What is there to be afraid of,
anyhow?" Virginia asked.

"Nothing in the world but loneliness," her husband replied.

"Well, I must get used to that, you know. I can begin now," Virginia said
lightly.

But for all her courage, she watched him drive away with a sob in her
throat. In all the universe there was nothing save a glaring sunlight and
an endless cringing of yellow, wind-threshed grass