ntervals, from the tops of one of the rare, low swells of the land,
Vanamee overlooked a wider horizon. On the other divisions of Quien Sabe
the same work was in progress. Occasionally he could see another column
of ploughs in the adjoining division--sometimes so close at hand that
the subdued murmur of its movements reached his ear; sometimes so
distant that it resolved itself into a long, brown streak upon the
grey of the ground. Farther off to the west on the Osterman ranch other
columns came and went, and, once, from the crest of the highest swell on
his division, Vanamee caught a distant glimpse of the Broderson ranch.
There, too, moving specks indicated that the ploughing was under way.
And farther away still, far off there beyond the fine line of the
horizons, over the curve of the globe, the shoulder of the earth, he
knew were other ranches, and beyond these others, and beyond these still
others, the immensities multiplying to infinity.

Everywhere throughout the great San Joaquin, unseen and unheard, a
thousand ploughs up-stirred the land, tens of thousands of shears
clutched deep into the warm, moist soil.

It was the long stroking caress, vigorous, male, powerful, for which the
Earth seemed panting. The heroic embrace of a multitude of iron hands,
gripping deep into the brown, warm flesh of the land that quivered
responsive and passionate under this rude advance, so robust as to be
almost an assault, so violent as to be veritably brutal. There, under
the sun and under the speckless sheen of the sky, the wooing of
the Titan began, the vast primal passion, the two world-forces, the
elemental Male and Female, locked in a colossal embrace, at grapples in
the throes of an infinite desire, at once terrible and divine, knowing
no law, untamed, savage, natural, sublime.

From time to time the gang in which Vanamee worked halted on the signal
from foreman or overseer. The horses came to a standstill, the vague
clamour of the work lapsed away. Then the minutes passed. The whole work
hung suspended. All up and down the line one demanded what had happened.
The division superintendent galloped past, perplexed and anxious. For
the moment, one of the ploughs was out of order, a bolt had slipped,
a lever refused to work, or a machine had become immobilised in heavy
ground, or a horse had lamed himself. Once, even, toward noon, an entire
plough was taken out of the line, so out of gear that a messenger had to
be sent to the