f acclamations filled the
room.

"Very good!" said Simon. "I will talk with Ambrose Doane and try to
make him trade with us."

The meeting broke up. It was then a little after nine.

Simon and Ambrose went apart to a bench on the river bank. There were
innumerable questions to be asked and answered. Simon estimated that
the grain in question, provided they had no frost, would amount to
twenty thousand bushels of wheat, and half as much oats. It was a
momentous decision for a youth like Ambrose to be called upon to make.

The greatest difficulty was how to grind the wheat.

"You have an engine here?" asked Ambrose.

"Yes, for our thrashing-machine," said Simon.

"I could order a small process mill from outside," said Ambrose, "but
it's doubtful if we could get it in this year."

"I have a hand mill," said Simon. "We call her the mankiller. Work
all day, grind a couple bags of flour. It is very old."

"Could it be rigged to the engine?" Ambrose asked.

"Wa! I never think of that," said Simon. "Maybe grind four bags a
day, then."

Ambrose had no intention of giving an answer until he had communicated
with Colina. Strongly against Simon's advice, he insisted that
Gaviller, as he said, must be given one more chance to relent. Simon
unwillingly yielded. At ten o'clock Ambrose and Tole started down the
river in a dugout.

Ambrose did not mean to seek the interview with Colina. Before
starting he scribbled a hasty note.

DEAR COLINA:

The farmers have asked me to buy their grain. I've got to do it unless
you will pay their price. It's not much good to say it now, but I'd
sooner cut off my hand than seem to be fighting you.

I can't help myself. You won't believe it, but it's a fact just the
same, if you won't pay their price I must, in order to save you. If
you will agree to pay them one-seventy-five, I'll go back to Moultrie
to-morrow, and never trouble you again. AMBROSE.

Landing below Gaviller's house Ambrose sent Tole up the bank with this.
In a surprisingly short time he saw the half-breed returning.

"Did you see her?" he demanded.

"Yes," said Tole.

"Did she send an answer back?"

"Only this."

Ambrose held out his hand, and Tole dropped the torn fragments of his
own letter into it. Ambrose stared at them stupidly. He had steeled
himself against a possible humiliation at her hands--but to be
humiliated before the half-breed!

He drew a long breath to steady him