horses' legs and the wheel sank. The smell of wild peppermint rose from
among the crackling stalks as the team brushed through. Now and then a
prairie-hen got up, and small animals, like English squirrels, squatted
by the trail until the wheels were nearly upon them, and then dived into
holes.

"The gophers are surely plentiful," Sadie remarked. "Don't know that
I've seen so many around before, and that's going to be bad for the
grain. They're generally worst when the crop is poor."

"Do you think the crop will be poor?"

Sadie glanced at the sky, which was a dazzling blue, flooded with light,
except where the scattered clouds drove by.

"We didn't get the June rains, and the frost-damp has gone down pretty
deep. Then we have had very few thunder-storms, and the sand is blowing
bad. It makes trouble in parts of Manitoba, but the scrub trees in our
sand-hills generally hold it up. What does Steve think?"

"He hasn't told me. Sometimes he looks anxious, but he doesn't talk
about it much."

"That's Steve's way. I don't know if it's a good way. He sees when he's
up against a hard thing and makes his own plans. Now I want to know my
husband's troubles. You feel better when you can talk."

Helen agreed with Sadie; she often wished Stephen would talk to her
about his anxieties. He wanted to save her and had confidence in
himself, but she felt that he left her out too much.

"How does the sand damage the wheat?" she asked.

"Cuts the stalk. Takes time, of course, but the sharp grit puts down the
grain like a binder knife, if it blows through the field long enough.
However, I'm not worrying much about that; there are worse things than
the sand and drought. We're fools and make our real troubles; that's
what's the matter with us."

Helen smiled. Sadie was amusing when philosophized, but Helen thought
her views were sound. She had chosen a stern country, but its stinging
cold and boisterous winds were invigorating, and with pluck one could
overcome its material obstacles. It was human weaknesses that made for
unhappiness.

"Well," she said, "we must hope the rain will come; but hadn't we better
go by the long bluff? The new man has put a fence across the other
trail."

Sadie left the trail, and as they crossed a hollow the tall grass
rustled about the horses' legs. It had lost its verdure; the red lilies
and banks of yellow flowers had withered on their parched stalks. When
they reached the level the grass was only