host of us, and every citizen is entitled to enough to make a living on.
But while the cattle-men keep hold, how's he going to get it? Oh, yes,
we've cut their fences and broken a few acres here and there; but how are
we going to put through our ploughing when every man who drives a furrow
has to whip up six of his neighbours to keep the cow-boys off him? Well,
there's just one answer. We're going to pull those men down."

"You're going to sit tight until your leaders tell you to move," Grant
informed him.

The man laughed harshly. "No," he said. "Unless they keep ahead of us
we're going to trail them along. You're a straight man, Larry, but you
don't see all you've done. You set this thing going, and now you can't
step out if it goes too far for you. No, sir, you've got to keep the pace
and come along, and it's going to be quite lively now some of the Chicago
anarchy boys are chipping in."

Grant's face was very stern. "When they're wanted, your leaders will be
there," he said. "They've got hold, and they'll keep it, if they have to
whip the sense into some of you. Now give me that axe of yours, and we'll
get some wood. I don't want to hear any more wild talking."

He went out, taking Breckenridge with him, and an hour later returned with
a sleigh-load of birch branches, which he flung down before the shanty.
Then, he turned the team towards Fremont ranch, and his face was grave as
he stared over the horses' heads at the smear of trail that wound away, a
blue-grey riband, before the gliding sleigh.

"I wonder if that fellow meant to give us a hint," said Breckenridge.

Grant nodded. "I think he did--and he was right about the rest. Two years
ago I was a prosperous rancher, proud of the prairie I belonged to, and
without a care; but I could see what this country was meant to be, and
when the others started talking about the homestead movement I did my
share. Folks seemed keen to listen; we got letters from everywhere, and we
told the men who wrote them just what the land could do. It was sowing
blindfold, and now the crop's above the sod it 'most frightens me. No man
can tell what it will grow to be before it's ready for the binder, and
while we've got the wheat we've got the weeds as well."

"Wasn't it always like that? At least, it seems so from reading a little
history. I don't know that I envy you, Larry. In the tongue of this
country, it's a hard row you have to hoe. Of course, there are folks who
would con