longing of the great plains stole down
upon them, and they knew that here indeed was life in its fulness--a
participation in the Infinite, indefinable, but all-embracing,
everlasting.

CHAPTER V

THE SHORES OF THE INFINITE

The summer was a season of great activity and development. Harris did
not sow any crop after the 1st of June, but applied himself then to
the construction of his stable, which was built after the same
fashion as the house. The shelter of its cool walls and roof was
gratefully sought by the cows in the heat of the day, and its
comparative freedom from mosquitoes was a haven to the horses in the
evenings. Then there was more land to plough, and Harris's soul never
dulled to the delight of driving the ploughshare through the virgin
sod. There was something almost sacred in the bringing of his will to
bear upon soil which had come down to him through all the ages fresh
from the hand of the Creator. The blackbirds that followed at his
heel in long, respectful rows, solemnly seeking the trophies of their
chase, might have been incarnations from the unrecorded ages that had
known these broad fields for chase and slaughter, but never for
growth and production. The era of the near vision, demanding its
immediate reward, had passed away, and in its place was the day of
faith, for without faith there can be neither seed-time nor harvest.

But it was not only on Harris's homestead that development was taking
place. As McCrae had predicted, there was a considerable movement of
settlers into the district, and at several points their tents or rude
houses now broke the vast sweep of the horizon. Tom Morrison had
found land to the satisfaction of his heart within three miles of the
Harris homestead, and his big log-house, eighteen by twenty-four,
assumed the proportions of a castle by comparison with the smaller
homes springing up around. Some miles to the east Dick Matheson,
straight from the lumber camps of the Madawaski, had pitched his
tent, and a few miles farther on was his friend of the shanties, John
Burton. To the west were the Grants, and to the north Hiram Riles and
his wife, Eliza. A mixed community they were, drawn from many
corners, and all of them more or less under the heel of poverty; but
they were filled with enthusiasm, with resourcefulness, and an
indomitable determination to face and overcome all obstacles. A
missionary had in some way spied out the field, and held monthly
Sunday