y loungers leaned against a rude shack with "Pool Room,"
painted on its dirty window. All round, the rolling prairie stretched
back to the horizon, washed in dingy drab and grey. The prospect was
dreary and depressing.

"This place," Benson resumed, "hasn't much to offer one in the way of
relaxation, and, for a man used to something different, life at a
lonely homestead soon loses its charm. Unless he's a keen farmer, he's
apt to go to bits."

"Then why don't you quit?" Harding asked.

"Where could I go? A man with no profession except the one he hasn't
the means to follow is not much use at home, and all my money is sunk
in my place here. As things stand, I can't sell it." He turned to
Blake. "I left the army because a financial disaster I wasn't
responsible for stopped my allowance and I was in debt. Eventually
about two thousand pounds were saved out of the wreck, and I came here
with that feeling badly hipped, which was one reason why I took to
whisky, and Clarke, who engaged to teach me farming, saw I got plenty
of it. Now he has his hands on all that's mine, but he keeps me fairly
supplied with cash, and it saves trouble to leave things to him."

When Benson stopped Blake made a sign of comprehension, for he knew
that somewhat exceptional qualities are required of the man who
undertakes the breaking of virgin prairie in the remoter districts. He
must have unflinching courage and stubbornness and be able to dispense
with all the comforts and amenities of civilized life. No interests
are offered him beyond those connected with his task; for half the year
he must toil unremittingly from dawn to dark, and depend upon his own
resources through the long, bitter winter. For society he may have a
hired hand and the loungers in the saloon of the nearest settlement,
which is often a day's ride away, and they are not, as a rule, men of
culture or pleasing manners. For the strong in mind and body it is
nevertheless a healthful life, but Benson was not of sufficiently tough
fibre.

"Now see here," said Harding. "I'm out for dollars, and this is a
business trip, but Blake wants to take you and I'm agreeable. If you
can stand for two or three months hard work in the open and very plain
living, you'll feel yourself a match for Clarke when you get back.
Though there's no reason why you should tell a stranger like myself how
you stand if you'd sooner not, I know something of business and might
see a way out of