er weapon to the floor, where it went off, harmlessly
burying its charge in the sod wall.

"Thank God, oh, thank God!" she exclaimed.

He threw off his wet overcoat and rushed to her side. But she sat
silent on the bed, staring absently at the light flickering
uncertainly in the wind from the open door.

He hastily rearranged the carpet, then, returning to her, he took her
hands in his and rubbed them briskly. But she still stared vaguely at
the light.

Suddenly a thought came to him. He rushed outside, to find that the
horses, of their own accord, had taken shelter beside the stable.
Here from the wagon he drew a little bundle and hurried back to the
house.

She was sitting where he left her, shivering slightly and watching
the play of the light as it flickered up and down the wall. He tore
the package open and spread its contents before her.

At first she took no notice, but gradually her eyes found the outline
of soft cloth and dainty feminine devices. With a great joy he
watched the colour returning as her set face relaxed in a smile of
ineffable tenderness. She raised her face to his and slipped her arms
about his neck, and he knew that for the moment he had snatched her
out of the valley of the shadow.

Harris made no more attempts to market his wheat that winter. His
wife's health now became his first consideration, but, even had there
been no such problem, experience had shown that nothing was to be
gained by making the long and expensive trip to Emerson. The cost of
subsistence of man and team on the way devoured all the proceeds of
the wheat; indeed, there were instances on record in the settlement
where men who attempted such trips during the winter actually came
back poorer than they left, while those who could show a gain of a
bag of sugar, a sack of flour, or a box of groceries were considered
fortunate indeed.

"What shall we eat?" said Harris to his wife, when, after a full
discussion, it was decided that no more grain could be marketed until
spring.

"Oh, we shall not suffer," was her calm reply. "We have over five
hundred bushels of wheat."

"But we can't eat wheat!"

"I'm not so sure of that. I heard Mr. McCrae say that lots of
families had wintered on wheat. Indeed, boiled wheat is something of
a delicacy. Even the best city families rarely have it, although it
is more nutritious than flour and much easier to prepare."

Harris thrilled with joy over his wife's vivacity. The strange g