you an' Rose an' Kathleen bein' treated like those
poor Belgian girls! Well, you'd get that an' worse if the Germans won
this war. An' the point is, for us to win, every last one of us must
fight, sacrifice to that end, an' hang together."

Anderson paused huskily and swallowed hard while he looked away across
the fields. Lenore felt herself drawn by an irresistible power. The west
wind rustled through the waving wheat. She heard the whir of the
threshers. Yet all seemed unreal. Her father's passion had made this
place another world.

"So much for that," resumed Anderson. "I'm goin' to do my best. An' I
may make blunders. I'll play the game as it's dealt out to me. Lord
knows I feel all in the dark. But it's the nature of the effort, the
spirit, that'll count. I'm goin' to save most of the wheat on my
ranches. An' bein' a Westerner who can see ahead, I know there's goin'
to be blood spilled.... I'd give a lot to know who sent this Nash spyin'
on me. I'm satisfied now he's an agent, a spy, a plotter for a gang
that's marked me. I can't prove it yet, but I feel it. Maybe nothin'
worth while--worth the trouble--will ever be found out from him. But I
don't figure that way. I say play their own game an' take a chance....
If you encouraged Nash you'd probably find out all about him. The worst
of it is could you be slick enough? Could a girl as fine an' square an'
high-spirited as you ever double-cross a man, even a scoundrel like
Nash? I reckon you could, considerin' the motive. Women are
wonderful.... Well, if you can fool him, make him think he's a winner,
flatter him till he swells up like a toad, promise to elope with him, be
curious, jealous, make him tell where he goes, whom he meets, show his
letters, all without ever sufferin' his hand on you, I'll give my
consent. I'd think more of you for it. Now the question is, can you do
it?"

"Yes," whispered Lenore.

"Good!" exploded Anderson, in a great relief. Then he began to mop his
wet face. He arose, showing the weight of heavy guns in his pockets, and
he gazed across the wheat-fields. "That wheat'll be ripe in a week. It
sure looks fine.... Lenore, you ride back home now. Don't let Jake pump
you. He's powerful curious. An' I'll go give these I.W.W.'s a first dose
of Anderson."

He turned away without looking at her, and he hesitated, bending over to
pluck a stem of goldenrod.

"Lass--you're--you're like your mother", he said, unsteadily. "An' she
helped me win ou