Kurt. "I just
punched one I.W.W. solicitor."

"I'll run this farm. If you don't like my way you can leave," darkly
asserted the father.

Kurt fell back in his chair and stared at the turgid, bulging forehead
and hard eyes before him. What could be behind them? Had the war brought
out a twist in his father's brain? Why were Germans so impossible?

"My Heavens! father, would you turn me out of my home because we
disagree?" he asked, desperately.

"In my country sons obey their fathers or they go out for themselves."

"I've not been a disobedient son," declared Kurt. "And here in America
sons have more freedom--more say."

"America has no sense of family life--no honest government. I hate the
country."

A ball of fire seemed to burst in Kurt.

"That kind of talk infuriates me," he blazed. "I don't care if you are
my father. Why in the hell did you come to America? Why did you stay?
Why did you marry my mother--an American woman?... That's rot--just
spiteful rot! I've heard you tell what life was in Europe when you were
a boy. You ran off. You stayed in this country because it was a better
country than yours.... Fifty years you've been in America--many years on
this farm. And you love this land.... My God! father, can't you and men
like you see the truth?"

"Aye, I can," gloomily replied the old man. "The truth is we'll lose the
land. That greedy Anderson will drive me off."

"He will not. He's fine--generous," asserted Kurt, earnestly. "All he
wanted was to see the prospects of the harvest and perhaps to help you.
Anderson has not had interest on his money for three years. I'll bet
he's paid interest demanded by the other stockholders in that bank you
borrowed from. Why, he's our friend!"

"Aye, and I see more," boomed the father. "He fetched his lass up here
to make eyes at my son. I saw her--the sly wench!... Boy, you'll not
marry her!"

Kurt choked back his mounting rage.

"Certainly I never will," he said, bitterly. "But I would if she'd have
me."

"What!" thundered Dorn, his white locks standing up and shaking like the
mane of a lion. "That wheat banker's daughter! Never! I forbid it. You
shall not marry any American girl."

"Father, this is idle, foolish rant," cried Kurt, with a high warning
note in his voice. "I've no idea of marrying.... But if I had one--whom
else could I marry except an American girl?"

"I'll sell the wheat--the land. We'll go back to Germany!"

That was maddening to Kurt.