e
monotony. Stephen, however, had shown her that she could expect no help
from him, and had actually forgotten her first party. She felt wounded;
it was hard to think that so long as he had work to do she must resign
herself to being left alone.

CHAPTER XVII

FESTING USES FORCE

A week or so after the supper party Festing started for the settlement
with some pieces of a binder in his wagon. He had bought the machine
second-hand, and meant to replace certain worn parts before harvest
began, although he doubted if this was worth while. The drought was
ripening the grain prematurely and some of it was spoiled, but he must
try to save as much as possible. Reaching the edge of the wheat, he
stopped the team irresolutely, half tempted to turn back, because it
seemed unlikely that the old binder need be used.

The wind had fallen; the mosquitoes were about and bit his face and
neck. Everything was strangely quiet, it was very hot, and masses of
leaden cloud darkened the horizon. Festing, however, had given up hoping
for rain, which would not make much difference if it came now.

The front of the wide belt of grain was ragged and bitten into hollows
by the driving sand. The torn stalks drooped and slanted away from the
wind, while others that had fallen lay about their roots. Farther in,
the damage was less, but the ears were half-filled and shriveled. The
field was parti-colored, for the dull, dark green had changed to a
dingy, sapless hue, and the riper patches had a sickly yellow tinge
instead of a coppery gleam.

Festing's face hardened. If he thrashed out half the number of bushels
he had expected, he would be lucky. He had staked all he had on the
chances of the weather and had lost. It was his first failure and came
as a rude shock to his self-confidence. He felt shaken and disgusted
with himself, for it looked as if he had been a rash fool. Still, if
rain came now, he might save enough to obviate the necessity of using
Helen's money. She would give him all he asked for, but this was a
matter about which he felt strongly, and she knew his point of view.

Driving on, he met the mail-carrier, who gave him a letter. It was from
Kerr, his former chief on the railroad, who had been moved to a new
section on the Pacific Slope. He told Festing about certain difficulties
they had encountered, and the latter felt a curious interest. Indeed, he
looked back with a touch of regret to the strenuous days he had spent at