ntemptuously. "Get the
guts out of your land; work it to death; never give it a rest. Never
alternate your crop, and then when your soil is exhausted, sit down and
roar about hard times."

"I suppose Magnus thinks the land has had rest enough these last two dry
seasons," observed Presley. "He has raised no crop to speak of for two
years. The land has had a good rest."

"Ah, yes, that sounds well," Annixter contradicted, unwilling to be
convinced. "In a way, the land's been rested, and then, again, in a way,
it hasn't."

But Presley, scenting an argument, refrained from answering, and
bethought himself of moving on.

"I'm going to leave my wheel here for a while, Buck," he said, "if you
don't mind. I'm going up to the spring, and the road is rough between
here and there."

"Stop in for dinner on your way back," said Annixter. "There'll be a
venison steak. One of the boys got a deer over in the foothills last
week. Out of season, but never mind that. I can't eat it. This stomach
of mine wouldn't digest sweet oil to-day. Get here about six."

"Well, maybe I will, thank you," said Presley, moving off. "By the way,"
he added, "I see your barn is about done."

"You bet," answered Annixter. "In about a fortnight now she'll be all
ready."

"It's a big barn," murmured Presley, glancing around the angle of the
house toward where the great structure stood.

"Guess we'll have to have a dance there before we move the stock in,"
observed Annixter. "That's the custom all around here."

Presley took himself off, but at the gate Annixter called after him, his
mouth full of prunes, "Say, take a look at that herd of sheep as you go
up. They are right off here to the east of the road, about half a mile
from here. I guess that's the biggest lot of sheep YOU ever saw. You
might write a poem about 'em. Lamb--ram; sheep graze--sunny days. Catch
on?"

Beyond Broderson Creek, as Presley advanced, tramping along on foot now,
the land opened out again into the same vast spaces of dull brown earth,
sprinkled with stubble, such as had been characteristic of Derrick's
ranch. To the east the reach seemed infinite, flat, cheerless,
heat-ridden, unrolling like a gigantic scroll toward the faint shimmer
of the distant horizons, with here and there an isolated live-oak to
break the sombre monotony. But bordering the road to the westward, the
surface roughened and raised, clambering up to the higher ground, on the
crest of which the old Miss