--you just bet your life! He called me a lot in German, but I
know cuss words when I hear them. I tried to reason with him--told him I
wanted my money--was here to help him get that money off the farm, some
way or other. An' he swore I was a capitalist--an enemy to labor an' the
Northwest--that I an' my kind had caused the war."

Kurt gazed gravely into the disturbed face of the rancher. Miss Anderson
had wide-open eyes of wonder.

"Sure I could have stood all that," went on Anderson, fuming. "But he
ordered me out of the house. I got mad an' wouldn't go. Then--by George!
he pulled my nose an' called me a bloody Englishman!"

Kurt groaned in the disgrace of the moment. But, amazingly, Miss
Anderson burst into a silvery peal of laughter.

"Oh, dad!... that's--just too--good for--anything! You met your--match
at last.... You know you always--boasted of your drop of English
blood.... And you're sensitive--about your big nose!"

"He must be over seventy," growled Anderson, as if seeking for some
excuse to palliate his restraint. "I'm mad--but it was funny." The
working of his face finally set in the huge wrinkles of a laugh.

Young Dorn struggled to repress his own mirth, but unguardedly he
happened to meet the dancing blue eyes of the girl, merry, provocative,
full of youth and fun, and that was too much for him. He laughed with
them.

"The joke's on me," said Anderson. "An' I can take one.... Now, young
man, I think I gathered from your amiable dad that if the crop of wheat
was full I'd get my money. Otherwise I could take over the land. For my
part, I'd never do that, but the others interested might do it, even for
the little money involved. I tried to buy them out so I'd have the whole
mortgage. They would not sell."

"Mr. Anderson, you're a square man, and I'll do--" declared Kurt.

"Come out an' show me the wheat," interrupted Anderson. "Lenore, do you
want to go with us?"

"I do," replied the daughter, and she took up her hat to put it on.

Kurt led them through the yard, out past the old barn, to the edge of
the open slope where the wheat stretched away, down and up, as far as
the eye could see.

CHAPTER II

"We've got over sixteen hundred acres in fallow ground, a half-section
in rye, another half in wheat--Turkey Red--and this section you see, six
hundred and forty acres, in Bluestem," said Kurt.

Anderson's keen eyes swept from near at hand to far away, down the
gentle, billowy slope and up