wonder how many years it is since I spent an afternoon in a harvest
field! I'll confess that I find much to interest me."

Gertrude laid down her book and glanced about. She was of a practical
disposition and almost devoid of artistic susceptibilities, but the
richness and color of the scene impressed her. Far away in front ran the
long ranks of sheaves, gleaming in the sunshine amid the golden stubble
which was flecked by their deep-blue shadows. The air was cooling, but
the light was brilliant and the standing wheat was picked out with tints
of burnished copper. By comparison with it, the oat stocks shone pale and
silvery. Round the edge of the grain moved the binders, clashing and
tinkling musically, while their whirling arms flashed in the sunlight.

Prescott, lightly clad, drove the foremost machine. The fine modeling of
his lean, muscular figure was effectively displayed; his uncovered arms
and face were the color of the soil. Seated behind the big horses, he
looked wonderfully virile. The man seemed filled with primitive vigor; he
was a type that was new to Gertrude Jernyngham.

"Our host," remarked her father, "strikes one as tireless; though I'm
inclined to think that during harvest everybody here works at a higher
tension than would be borne at home. Their methods are rather
wasteful--this tall stubble, for instance, continuous cereal crops,
except for the short summer fallow--but they're no doubt adapted to the
needs of the country. Having some experience in these matters, I should
say this farm was excellently managed."

In place of answering, Gertrude watched the rancher. The physical
perfection of the man had an effect on her, though she was essentially
prudish.

"I ought to drive in to the settlement and send off a cablegram, though I
expect it will be difficult to get a team," Jernyngham resumed, returning
to his letter. "Cranford wants instructions about a matter of importance
that has cropped up since we left."

"It wouldn't be wise for you to drive so far," Gertrude said firmly. "I
might go instead; we'll speak to Mr. Prescott about it this evening."

Shortly afterward there was a harsh clanking sound and Prescott, pulling
up his team, sprang down from the binder. He became busy with hammer and
spanner, and in a few minutes the stubble was strewn with pinion wheels,
little shafts, and driving-chains. Then, while his guests watched him
with growing interest, he put the machine together, started h