ed straight to the office of Los
Muertos, to that of the Quien Sabe, to Osterman's, and to Broderson's.
During a flurry in the Chicago wheat pits in the August of that year,
which had affected even the San Francisco market, Harran and Magnus had
sat up nearly half of one night watching the strip of white tape jerking
unsteadily from the reel. At such moments they no longer felt their
individuality. The ranch became merely the part of an enormous whole,
a unit in the vast agglomeration of wheat land the whole world round,
feeling the effects of causes thousands of miles distant--a drought on
the prairies of Dakota, a rain on the plains of India, a frost on the
Russian steppes, a hot wind on the llanos of the Argentine.

Harran crossed over to the telephone and rang six bells, the call for
the division house on Four. It was the most distant, the most isolated
point on all the ranch, situated at its far southeastern extremity,
where few people ever went, close to the line fence, a dot, a speck,
lost in the immensity of the open country. By the road it was eleven
miles distant from the office, and by the trail to Hooven's and the
Lower Road all of nine.

"How about that seed?" demanded Harran when he had got Cutter on the
line.

The other made excuses for an unavoidable delay, and was adding that he
was on the point of starting out, when Harran cut in with:

"You had better go the trail. It will save a little time and I am in
a hurry. Put your sacks on the horses' backs. And, Cutter, if you see
Hooven when you go by his place, tell him I want him, and, by the way,
take a look at the end of the irrigating ditch when you get to it. See
how they are getting along there and if Billy wants anything. Tell him
we are expecting those new scoops down to-morrow or next day and to get
along with what he has until then.... How's everything on Four? ...
All right, then. Give your seed to Phelps when you get here if I am not
about. I am going to Guadalajara to meet the Governor. He's coming down
to-day. And that makes me think; we lost the case, you know. I had a
letter from the Governor yesterday.... Yes, hard luck. S. Behrman did
us up. Well, good-bye, and don't lose any time with that seed. I want to
blue-stone to-day."

After telephoning Cutter, Harran put on his hat, went over to the barns,
and found Phelps. Phelps had already cleaned out the vat which was to
contain the solution of blue-stone, and was now at work regrading the