d joyously before a
glorious warm wind, gleamed almost luminous, and overhead hung a vault
of blue without a cloud in it. Trailing out across it, skeins and
wisps of birds moved up from the south.

"Harry is sowing a very big crop this year, and most of it on fall
back-set," she said. "He has, however, horses enough to do that kind
of thing, and, of course, he does it thoroughly." Then she glanced
towards where the teams were hauling unusually heavy ploughs through
the grassy sod. "This is virgin prairie that he's breaking, and he'll
probably put oats on it. They ripen quicker. He ought to be a rich
man after harvest unless the frost comes, or the market goes against
him. Some of his neighbours, including my husband, would have sown a
little less and held a reserve in hand."

Agatha remembered what Wyllard had told her one night on board the
_Scarrowmania_, and smiled, for she fancied that she understood the
man. He was not one to hedge, as she had heard it called, or
cautiously hold his hand. He staked boldly, but she felt that this was
not only for the sake of the dollars that he might stand to gain. It
was part of his nature--the result of an optimistic faith or courage
that appealed to her, and sheer love of effort. She also fancied that
his was no spasmodic, impulsive activity. She could imagine him
holding on as steadfastly with everything against him, exacting all
that men and teams and machines could do. It struck her as curious
that she should feel so sure of this; but she admitted that it was the
case.

In the meanwhile he was approaching them, sitting in the driving-seat
of a big machine that ripped broad furrows through the crackling sod.
Four horses plodded wearily in front of it until he thrust one hand
over, and there was a rattle and clanking as he swung them and the
machine round beside the waggon. Then he got down, and stood smiling
up at Agatha with his soft hat in his hand and the sunlight falling
full upon his weather-darkened face. It was not a particularly
striking face, but there was something in it, a hint of restrained
force and steadfastness, she thought, which Gregory's did not possess,
and for a moment or two she watched him unobtrusively. She felt she
could not help it.

He wore an old blue shirt, open at the throat and belted into trousers
of blue duck at the waist, and she noticed the fine symmetry of his
somewhat spare figure. The absence of any superfluous fleshine