his lead, and while the lean years had left a
lamentable scarcity of dollars at Silverdale, wealth would now pour in
to every man who had had the faith to sow.

He dismounted beside the oats which he would harvest first, and
listened with a curious stirring of his pulses to their musical patter.
It was not the full-toned song of the wheat, but there was that in the
quicker beat of it which told that each graceful tassel would redeem
its promise. He could not see the end of them, but by the right of the
producer they were all his. He knew that he could also hold them by
right of conquest, too, for that year a knowledge of his strength had
been forced upon him. Still, from something he had seen in the eyes of
a girl and grasped in the words of a white-haired lady, he realized
that there is a limit beyond which man's ambition may not venture, and
a right before which even that of possession must bow.

It had been shown him plainly that no man of his own devices can make
the wheat grow, and standing beside it in the creeping dusk he felt in
a vague, half-pagan fashion that there was, somewhere behind what
appeared the chaotic chances of life, a scheme of order and justice
immutable, which would in due time crush the too presumptuous human
atom who opposed himself to it. Regret and rebellion were, it seemed,
equally futile, and he must go out from Silverdale before retribution
overtook him. He had done wrong, and, though he had made what
reparation he could, knew that he would carry his punishment with him.

The house was almost dark when he reached it, and as he went in, his
cook signed to him. "There's a man in here waiting for you," he said.
"He doesn't seem in any way friendly or civil."

Winston nodded as he went on, wondering with a grim expectancy whether
Courthorne had returned again. If he had, he felt in a mood for very
direct speech with him. His visitor was, however, not Courthorne.
Winston could see that at a glance, although the room was dim.

"I don't seem to know you, but I'll get a light in a minute," he said.

"I wouldn't waste time," said the other. "We can talk just as straight
in the dark, and I guess this meeting will finish up outside on the
prairie. You've given me a good deal of trouble to trail you, Mr.
Guyler."

"Well," said Winston dryly, "it seems to me that you have found the
wrong man."

The stranger laughed unpleasantly. "I was figuring you'd take it like
that, but you can'