rd face suddenly warmed and
glowed.

"I never thought of that," he burst out, radiantly. "We can save the
wheat.... Mr. Anderson, I--I can't thank you enough."

"Don't try," replied the rancher.

"I tell you it will rain," cried Lenore, gaily. "Let's walk out
there--watch the storm come across the hills. I love to see the shadows
blow over the wheat."

Lenore became aware, as she passed the car, that Nash was glaring at her
in no unmistakable manner. She had forgotten all about him. The sight of
his jealous face somehow added to her strange exhilaration.

They crossed the road from the house, and, facing the west, had free
prospect of the miles of billowy hills and the magnificent ordnance of
the storm-clouds. The deep, low mutterings of thunder seemed a grand and
welcome music. Lenore stole a look at Dorn, to see him, bareheaded, face
upturned, entranced. It was only a rain-storm coming! Down in the valley
country such storms were frequent at this season, too common for their
meaning to be appreciated. Here in the desert of wheat rain was a
blessing, life itself.

The creamy-white, rounded edge of the approaching clouds came and
coalesced, spread and mushroomed. Under them the body of the storm was
purple, lit now and then by a flash of lightning. Long, drifting veils
of rain, gray as thin fog, hung suspended between sky and earth.

"Listen!" exclaimed Dorn.

A warm wind, laden with dry scent of wheat, struck Lenore's face and
waved her hair. It brought a silken, sweeping rustle, a whispering of
the bearded grain. The soft sound thrilled Lenore. It seemed a sweet,
hopeful message that waiting had been rewarded, that the drought could
be broken. Again, and more beautiful than ever before in her life, she
saw the waves of shadow as they came forward over the wheat. Rippling,
like breezes over the surface of a golden lake, they came in long,
broken lines, moving, following, changing, until the whole wheat-field
seemed in shadowy motion.

The cloud pageant rolled on above and beyond. Lenore felt a sweet drop
of rain splash upon her upturned face. It seemed like a caress. There
came a pattering around her. Suddenly rose a damp, faint smell of dust.
Beyond the hill showed a gray pall of rain, coming slowly, charged with
a low roar. The whisper of the sweeping wheat was swallowed up.

Lenore stood her ground until heavy rain drops fell thick and fast upon
her, sinking through her thin waist to thrill her flesh; an