om and come back for them--while you know one man can't
put up many four-bushel bags--or keep a man and horses at the ravine
until we're through."

Winston laughed. "Now, I wonder whether you ever figured how much
those little things put up the price of your wheat."

"This is the only practicable way down," said the lad. "You could
scarcely climb up one side where the ravine's narrow abreast of
Silverdale."

"Drive round. I want to see it," said Winston. "Call at Rushforth's
for a spool of binder twine."

Half an hour later Alfreton pulled the wagon up amid the birches on the
edge of the ravine, which just there sloped steep as a railway cutting,
and not very much broader, to the creek. Winston gazed at it, and then
handed the twine to the hired man.

"Take that with you, Charley, and get down," he said. "If you strip
your boots off you can wade through the creek."

"I don't know that I want to," said the man.

"Well," said Winston, "it would please me if you did, as well as cool
your feet. Then you could climb up, and hold that twine down on the
other side."

The man grinned, and, though Alfreton remembered that he was not
usually so tractable with him, proceeded to do Winston's bidding. When
he came back there was a twinkle of comprehension in his eyes, and
Winston, who cut off the length of twine, smiled at Alfreton.

"It is," he said dryly, "only a little idea of mine."

They drove on, and reaching Winnipeg next day, went straight to Graham
the wheat-broker's offices. He kept them waiting some time, and in the
meanwhile men with intent faces passed hastily in and out through the
outer office. Some of them had telegrams or bundles of papers in their
hands, and the eyes of all were eager. The corridor rang with
footsteps, the murmur of voices seemed to vibrate through the great
building, while it seemed to Alfreton there was a suggestion of strain
and expectancy in all he heard and saw. Winston, however, sat gravely
still, though the lad noticed that his eyes were keener than usual, for
the muffled roar of the city, patter of messengers' feet, ceaseless
tinkle of telephone call bells, and whir of the elevators, each packed
with human freight, all stirred him. Hitherto he had grappled with
nature, but now he was to test his judgment against the keenest wits of
the cities, and stand or fall by it, in the struggle that was to be
waged over the older nations' food.

At last, however, a clerk sig