n can degrade himself.
Knowing things will not harm you. Doing them is a different matter. What
you know will be a protection. What you do ruins----if it is wrong. You
are not harmed, you are only disgusted. Think it over, and in a few days
come back and get your money. It is strictly honest. You earned every
cent of it."

"If you ever speak of it again or force it on me I'll take it home and
throw it into the lake."

He went after Betsy and slowly drove to Medicine Woods. Belshazzar,
on the seat beside him, recognized a silent, disappointed master
and whimpered as he rubbed the Harvester's shoulder to attract his
attention.

"This is tough luck, old boy," said the Harvester. "I had such hopes and
I worked so hard. I suffered in the flesh for every hour of it, and I
failed. Oh but I hate the word! If I knew where she is right now, Bel,
I'd give anything I've got. But there's no use to wail and get sorry
for myself. That's against the law of common decency. I'll take a swim,
sleep it off, straighten up the herbs a little, and go at it again, old
fellow; that's a man's way. She's somewhere, and she's got to be found,
no matter what it costs."

CHAPTER VIII. BELSHAZZAR'S RECORD POINT

The Harvester set the neglected cabin in order; then he carefully and
deftly packed all his dried herbs, barks, and roots. Next came carrying
the couch grass, wild alum, and soapwort into the store-room. Then
followed July herbs. He first went to his beds of foxglove, because
the tender leaves of the second year should be stripped from them at
flowering time, and that usually began two weeks earlier; but his bed
lay in a shaded, damp location and the tall bloom stalks were only in
half flower, their pale lavender making an exquisite picture. It paid
to collect those leaves, so the Harvester hastily stripped the amount he
wanted.

Yarrow was beginning to bloom and he gathered as much as he required,
taking the whole plant. That only brought a few cents a pound, but it
was used entire, so the weight made it worth while.

Catnip tops and leaves were also ready. As it grew in the open in dry
soil and the beds had been weeded that spring, he could gather great
arm loads of it with a sickle, but he had to watch the swarming bees. He
left the male fern and mullein until the last for different reasons.

On the damp, cool, rocky hillside, beneath deep shade of big forest
trees, grew the ferns, their long, graceful fronds waving softly. T