ight inflamed him, carried him
beyond his powers, and all he knew was that he became the center of a
dark and whirling melee encircled by living flames that leaped only to
be beaten down. Whether that threshing chaos of fire and smoke and wheat
was short or long was beyond him to tell but the fire was extinguished
to the last spark.

Walking back with the weary crowd, Kurt felt a clearer breeze upon his
face. Smoke was not flying so thickly. Over the western hill, through a
rift in the clouds, peeped a star. The only other light he saw twinkled
far down the lane. It was that of a lantern. Dark forms barred it now
and then. Slowly Kurt recovered his breath. The men were talking and
tired voices rang with assurance that the fire was beaten.

Some one called Kurt. The voice was Jerry's. It seemed hoarse and
strained. Kurt could see the lean form of his man, standing in the light
of the lantern. A small dark group of men, silent and somehow
impressive, stood off a little in the shadow.

"Here I am, Jerry," called Kurt, stepping forward. Just then Olsen
joined Jerry.

"Boy, we've beat the I.W.W.'s, but--but--" he began, and broke off
huskily.

"What's the matter?" queried Kurt, and a cold chill shot over him.

Jerry plucked at his sleeve.

"Your old man--your dad--he's overworked hisself," whispered Jerry.
"It's tough.... Nobody could stop him."

Kurt felt that the fulfilment of his icy, sickening dread had come.
Jerry's dark face, even in the uncertain light, was tragic.

"Boy, his heart went back on him--he's dead!" said Olsen, solemnly.

Kurt pushed the kind hands aside. A few steps brought him to where,
under the light of the lantern, lay his father, pale and still, with a
strange softening of the iron cast of intolerance.

"Dead!" whispered Kurt, in awe and horror. "Father! Oh, he's
gone!--without a word--"

Again Jerry plucked at Kurt's sleeve.

"I was with him," said Jerry. "I heard him fall an' groan.... I had the
light. I bent over, lifted his head.... An' he said, speaking English,
'Tell my son--I was wrong!'... Then he died. An' thet was all."

Kurt staggered away from the whispering, sympathetic foreman, out into
the darkness, where he lifted his face in the thankfulness of a breaking
heart.

It had, indeed, taken the approach of death to change his hard old
father. "Oh, he meant--that if he had his life to live over again--he
would be different!" whispered Kurt. That was the one great word nee