ough a hundred and sixty acres to every
quarter-section. But this is in the frost belt. They get it every
August--sometimes July. Shouldn't wonder but it'll be all right in
time, when the country gets settled up, but most homesteaders can't
afford to wait. We've got to get further West yet, into the higher
land of the Turtle Mountain slopes. I know there's good stuff there
that hasn't been taken."

And so they pressed on, until, in the bright sunshine, the blue line
of the Turtle Mountain lay like a lake on the western horizon. Here
McCrae began paying more minute attention to the soil, examining the
diggings around badger holes, watching out for clumps of "wolf
willow," with always a keen eye for stones and low-lying alkali
patches and the general topography of the quarter.

"This is more rolling country, with more land broken up by sleughs
an' creeks, but it's good stuff," he said. "It's early to make
predictions, but I'll risk one guess. There are two classes of people
coming into this country--men who are looking for wheat land, nothing
but wheat land, an' men who want some wheat land an' some stock land.
I predict that in twenty-five years the wheat farmers will be working
for the mortgage companies, an' the stock farmers will be building up
bank accounts. Now stock must have water, an' if you can get natural
shelter, so much the better. A creek may break your land a little,
but it's worth more than it costs."

Many times in their explorations they passed over sections that
Harris would have accepted, but McCrae objected, finding always some
flaw not apparent to the untrained eye. Once, where a little river
had worn its way across the plain, they came on a sod shack, where a
settler was already located. "Nice spot," said McCrae, "but too
sandy. His farm'll blow away when he breaks the sod. There's an easy
crossing there' though, an' perhaps he thinks the railway will hit
him when it comes. That's all a gamble. It may go north of the lake;
if it does we only bet on the wrong horse. We've got to take our
chance on that."

But at length they rode over a quarter where McCrae turned his horse
and rode back again. Forward and back, forward and back, they rode
the whole hundred and sixty acres, until not a rood of it had escaped
their scrutiny. On the south-east corner a stream, in a ravine of
some depth, cut off a triangle of a few acres' extent. Otherwise it
was prairie sod, almost level, with yellow clay lying at