re content
to lounge in the tranquil enjoyment of the rest and warmth that followed
exposure to the stinging frost.

At last Breckenridge pushed his plate aside, and took out his pipe.

"You must have put a good many dollars into your ploughing, Larry, and the
few I had have gone in the same way," he said. "You see, it's a long while
until harvest comes round, and a good many unexpected things seem to
happen in this country. To be quite straight, is there much probability of
our getting any of those dollars back?"

Grant smiled. "I think there is, though I can't be sure. The legislature
must do something for us sooner or later, while the fact that the
cattle-men and the Sheriff have left us alone of late shows that they
don't feel too secure. Still, there may be trouble. A good many hard cases
have been coming in."

"The cattle-men would get them. It's dollars they're wanting, and the
other men have a good many more than we have. By the way, shouldn't the
man with the money you are waiting for turn up to-night?"

Grant nodded. A number of almost indigent men--small farmers ruined by
frost in Dakota, and axe-men from Michigan with growing families--had
settled on the land in his neighbourhood, and as every hand and voice
might be wanted, levies had been made on the richer homesteaders, and
subscribed to here and there in the cities, for the purpose of enabling
them to continue the struggle.

"We want the dollars badly," he said. "The cattle-men have cut off our
credit at the railroad stores, and there are two or three of the
Englishmen who have very little left to eat at the hollow. You have seen
what we have sent out from Fremont, and Muller has been feeding quite a
few of the Dutchmen."

He stopped abruptly, and Breckenridge drew back his chair. "Hallo!" he
said. "You heard it, Larry?"

Grant had heard the windows jar, and a sound that resembled a faint tap.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I may have been mistaken, but it was quite like a
rifle shot."

They were at the door in another moment, shivering as the bitter cold met
them in the face; but there was now no sound from the prairie, which
rolled away before them white and silent under the moonlight. Then,
Breckenridge flung the door to, and crossed over to the rack where a
Marlin rifle and two Winchesters hung. He pressed back the magazine slide
of one of them, and smiled somewhat grimly at Grant.

"Well," he said, "we can only hope you're wrong. Where did you