u a second thousand dollars when the crop is
in, as well as bank-rate interest on the value of the stock and
machines and the money I have used, as shown in the documents handed me
by Colonel Barrington. With wheat at its present price nobody would
give you more for the land. In return, I demand the unconditional use
of the farm until within three months from harvest. I have the
elevator warrants for whatever wheat I raise, which will belong to me.
If you do not agree, or remain here after sunrise to-morrow, I shall
ride over to the outpost and make a declaration."

"Well," said Courthorne slowly, "you can consider it a deal."

CHAPTER XVI

FACING THE FLAME

Courthorne rode away next morning, and some weeks had passed when Maud
Barrington came upon Winston sitting beside his mower in a sloo. He
did not at first see her, for the rattle of the machines in a
neighboring hollow drowned the muffled beat of hoofs, and the girl,
reining her horse in, looked down on him. The man was sitting very
still, which was unusual for him, hammer in his hand, gazing straight
before him, as though he could see something beyond the shimmering heat
that danced along the rim of the prairie.

Summer had come, and the grass, which grew scarcely ankle-deep on the
great levels, was once more white and dry, but in the hollows that had
held the melting snow it stood waist-high, scented with peppermint,
harsh and wiry, and Winston had set out with every man he had to
harvest it. Already a line of loaded wagons crawled slowly across the
prairie, and men and horses moved half-seen amid the dust that whirled
about another sloo. Out of it came the trampling of hoofs and the
musical tinkle of steel.

Suddenly Winston looked up, and the care which was stamped upon it fled
from his face when he saw the girl. The dust that lay thick upon his
garments had spared her, and as she sat, patting the restless horse,
with a little smile on her face which showed beneath the big white hat,
something in her dainty freshness reacted upon the tired man's fancy.
He had long borne the stress and the burden, and as he watched her a
longing came upon him, as it had too often for his tranquillity since
he had been at Silverdale, to taste, for a short space of time at
least, a life of leisure and refinement. This woman who had been born
to it could, it seemed to him, lift the man she trusted beyond the
sordid cares of the turmoil to her own high level, a