n o'clock they were away in swarms, leaving ruin and desolation
to show that they had sojourned in the land.

The situation was truly desperate. Cattle, horses, and hogs were without
food of any sort. Many families were new to the country and had depended
upon sod-corn for the winter's supply of provender for both man and beast.
Mr. Farnshaw, being one of the older residents, had grown a crop of wheat,
so that his bread was assured; but the herd of cattle which had been his
delight was now a terrorizing burden. Cattle and horses could not live on
wheat, and there was no hay because of the dry weather. What was to be
done?

That night the neighbours held a consultation at the Farnshaw house, where
grizzled and despairing men discussed the advisability of "goin' East,"
and ways and means of getting there. The verdict was strongly in favour of
going.

Mrs. Farnshaw brightened. Perhaps, after all, she would get away from
these wind-blown prairies, where no shade offered its protecting presence
against a sun which took life and spirits out of the pluckiest of them.
Even more childish than the daughter at her side, Mrs. Farnshaw clapped
her hands with joy as she leaned forward expectantly to address her new
neighbour.

"If I can only get t' my mother's, I won't care for nothin' after that. My
heart goes out t' Mrs. Crane. Think of all that good money goin' t' them
Swedes! You just better pocket your loss an' get away while you can."

"You're goin' too, then, Farnshaw?" the new neighbour asked.

All eyes turned upon Mr. Farnshaw, who had not as yet expressed himself on
either side. These neighbours had asked to assemble in his house because
his kitchen afforded more room than any other house in the vicinity, the
kitchen being a large room with no beds in it to take up floor space.

Mrs. Farnshaw realized as soon as the question was asked that her joy had
been premature.

Josiah Farnshaw sat with his chair tilted back on two legs against the
wall, snapping the blade of his pocket knife back and forth as he
considered what he was going to say in reply. He felt all eyes turned in
his direction and quite enjoyed the suspense. Mr. Farnshaw was an artist
in calculating the suspense of others. He gave them plenty of time to get
their perspective before he replied. At last he shut the blade of the
knife down ostentatiously, replaced it in his trousers' pocket, and
announced slowly:

"Well, sir, as for me and mine, I think we