t off at the railway station to buy the tickets; Allan went
to the post office on the odd chance of any letters awaiting
delivery, and the hired man turned the horses homeward. The station
agent was threading his way through his car report, and remained
provokingly unconscious of Harris's presence at the ticket window.
The farmer took no pains to conceal his impatience, coughing and
shuffling obviously, but it was not until the last box-car had been
duly recorded that the agent deigned to recognize his existence.

"Nothing for you from--," he said, mentioning the mail order house
from which Harris made most of his purchases.

"Well, I didn't expect anythin'," retorted the farmer, "although
you're just as likely to have it when I don't as when I do. How much
is a ticket to Calgary?"

"You got the land fever, too?" the agent asked, as he consulted his
tariffs. "Riles went up the other day. You'll be making a clean-up on
the cheap land, I suppose. But I tell you, Harris, if I'd a farm like
yours you couldn't pry me off it with a pinch-bar. No more worries
for little Willie, and I'd leave the free land to those that haven't
got any--like myself."

"Worry!" snorted Harris. "What do you worry about? You get your pay,
whether it freezes or hails or shrivels up with one of these Dakota
scorchers."

The agent thought of the piles of reports on his table, but as he
thumped the stamp on the tickets he answered, "Oh, I worry over the
Monroe doctrine." He left the farmer counting his change, and turned
to his reports. "Another money-grubber gone crazy with the heat," he
muttered. "If I'd his wad wouldn't I burn this wire with one hot,
short sentence!"

Harris met his son on the platform. "What d'ye think, Dad? A letter
from Riles." He drew the crumpled missive from its envelope. "Looks
like a laundry ticket," he said, "but I figured it out, and he wants
you to sell the farm and buy a coal mine."

Harris read the letter through, not without some difficulty. At first
he was inclined to laugh, but the earnestness of Riles impressed him
through the makeshift English.

"What d'ye think of it, Dad?" said the younger man, at length. "Of
course we don't know anything about coal, but then--"

"It must look good to Riles or he wouldn't want to put any money in
it," commented Harris, after a few minutes' reflection. "Riles is
pretty cautious. He's got money in the bank drawin' three per cent;
he's afraid to lend it out among the fa