olling that they
could not be seen from the highway. Jerry was unmistakably glad and
relieved to see Kurt.

"Some goin's-on," he declared, with a grin. "Since you left there's been
one hundred and sixteen I.W.W. tramps along this here road."

"Have you had any trouble?" inquired Kurt.

"Wal, I reckon it wasn't trouble, but every time I took a peg at some
sneak I sort of broke out sweatin' cold."

"You shot at them?"

"Sure I shot when I seen any loafin' along in the dark. Two of them shot
back at me, an' after thet I wasn't particular to aim high.... Reckon
I'm about dead for sleep."

"I'll relieve you to-night," replied Kurt. "Jerry, doesn't the wheat
look great?"

"Wal, I reckon. An' walkin' along here when it's quiet an' no wind
blowin', I can just hear the wheat crack. It's gittin' ripe fast, an'
sure the biggest crop we ever raised.... But I'm tellin' you--when I
think how we'll ever harvest it my insides just sinks like lead!"

Kurt then outlined Anderson's plan, which was received by the foreman
with eager approval and the assurance that the neighbor farmers would
rally to his call.

Kurt found his nearest neighbor, Olsen, cutting a thin, scarcely ripe
barley. Olsen was running a new McCormack harvester, and appeared
delighted with the machine, but cast down by the grain prospects. He did
not intend to cut his wheat at all. It was a dead loss.

"Two sections--twelve hundred an' eighty acres!" he repeated, gloomily.
"An' the third bad year! Dorn, I can't pay the interest to my bank."

Olsen's sun-dried and wind-carved visage was as hard and rugged and
heroic as this desert that had resisted him for years. Kurt saw under
the lines and the bronze all the toil and pain and unquenchable hope
that had made Olsen a type of the men who had cultivated this desert of
wheat.

"I'll give you five hundred dollars to help me harvest," said Kurt,
bluntly, and briefly stated his plan.

Olsen whistled. He complimented Anderson's shrewd sense. He spoke
glowingly of that magnificent section of wheat that absolutely must be
saved. He promised Kurt every horse and every man on his farm. But he
refused the five hundred dollars.

"Oh, say, you'll have to accept it," declared Kurt.

"You've done me good turns," asserted Olsen.

"But nothing like this. Why, this will be a rush job, with all the men
and horses and machines and wagons I can get. It'll cost ten--fifteen
thousand dollars to harvest that section. Even at