ing in the thickets, a warm wind swept
from the south and set swollen buds bursting, while the sun shone,
causing the Harvester to rejoice. Betsy's white coat was splashed with
the mud of the valley road; the feet of Belshazzar left tracks over
lumber piles; and the Harvester removed his muck-covered shoes at the
door and wore slippers inside. The skunk cabbage appeared around the
edge of the forest, rank mullein and thistles lay over the fields in
big circles of green, and even plants of delicate growth were thrusting
their heads through mellowing earth and dead leaves, to reach light and
air.

Then the Harvester took his mattock and began to dig. His level best
fell so far short of what he felt capable of doing and desired to
accomplish that the following day he put two more men on the job. Then
the earth did fly, and so soon as the required space was excavated the
walls were lined with stone and a smooth basement floor was made of
cement. The night the new home stood, a skeleton of joists and rafters,
gleaming whitely on the banks of Loon Lake, the Harvester went to the
bridge crossing Singing Water and slowly came up the driveway to see how
the work appeared. He caught his breath as he advanced. He had intended
to stake out generous rooms, but this, compared with the cabin, seemed
like a big hotel.

"I hope I haven't made it so large it will be a burden," he
soliloquized. "It's huge! But while I am at it I want to build big
enough, and I think I have."

He stood on the driveway, his arms folded, and looked at the structure
as he occasionally voiced his thoughts.

"The next thing is to lay up the side walls and get the roof over. Got
to have plenty of help, for those logs are hewed to fourteen inches
square and some of them are forty feet long. That's timber! Grew with
me, too. Personally acquainted with almost every tree of it. We will bed
them in cement, use care with the roof, and if that doesn't make a cool
house in the summer, and a warm one in winter, I'll be disappointed.
It sets among the trees, and on the hillside just right. We must have a
wide porch, plenty of flowers, vines, ferns, and mosses, and when I get
everything finished and she sees it----perhaps it will please her."

A great horned owl swept down the hill, crossed the lake, and hooted
from the forest of the opposite bank. The Harvester thought of his dream
and turned.

"Any women walking the water to-night? Come if you like," he bantered,