The Desert of Wheat

eauty to that endless, rolling, smooth world of treeless hills, where miles of fallow ground and miles of

ountable for those broad squares of alternate gold and brown, extending on and on to the waving horizon-line. A lonely, hard, heroic country, where flowers and fruit were not, nor birds and b

e line, to disappear in the distance. The sun shone hot, the wind blew hard; and over the boundless undulating expanse hovered a shadow that was neither hood of dust nor hue of gold. It was not physical, but lonely, waiting, prophetic, and weird. No wild desert of wastelands, once the home of other races of man, and now gone to decay and death, could have shown so barren an acreage. Half of this wandering patchwork of squares was earth, brown and gray, curried and disked, and rolled and combed and harrowed, with not a tiny leaf of green in all the miles. The other

and unfathomable that so much of the bread of man, the staff of life, the hope of civiliza

cept in the foot-hills of the mountains. The Columbia River, making a prodigious and meandering curve, bordered on three sides what was known as the Bend country. South of this vast area, across the range, began the fertile, many-watered region that extended on down into verdant Oregon. Among the desert hills of this Bend country, near the center of the Basin, where the

any, a sturdy young farmer strode with darkly troubled face from the presence of his father. At the e

e he leaned on the gate. He could see for miles in every direction, and to the

ming to dun father,"

and interest for years, mostly to Anderson. Kurt hated the debt and resented the visit, but he could not help acknowledging that the rancher had been

oung Dorn, as with keen eyes he surveyed a vast field of wheat, short, smooth, yellowing

ead of its stream of dust, pass out of sight under the hill, and soon reappear, to turn off the main road and co

is Dorn's fa

repli

pened and out stepped a short,

step out. She also wore a long linen coat, and a veil besides. The man removed his coa

e this in a million years!… I'm chokin' for

f powerful form beginning to sag in the broad shoulders, his face bronzed by long exposure to wind and sun. He

you young Do

eplied Kurt,

on, come to see your dad

the veiled young woman, and then, hesi

or air an' water. Bring us

accompanied by his daughter. Kurt was afraid of his father. But then, what did it matter? When he returned to the yard he found the rancher sitting in the shade of one of th

et and offered a brimming cupful to the girl he saw her face, and his eyes met hers. He dropped

een her twice-the first time at the close of his one year of college at the University of California, and the second time on the street in Spokane. In a glance he had recogniz

t's wet, but it ain't water to drink. Come down in the foot-hills an' I'll s

he waved a hand at the broad, swelling slopes. The warm brea

uired Anderson, with interest th

it, too-for he never makes a

Boy, do you know that wheat is the mos

sn't see that. All he sees is-if we have rain we'll have bumper crops. That

n him.… Hum!… Say, what do you see

king most of wheat for starving peoples. I-I've studied th

bent steadily upon him. Anderson had roused to the int

ow old are yo

Kurt's my first na

s farm fa

father does

t, never fear. He raises the

had three bad years. If the wheat fails

ed Anderson, slowly, as if t

's dead. Father is German. He's old. He's rabid si

you goin' to do if yo

ther and I quarreled over that until I had to give in. He's har

oused, an' the best I can say is,

all fat

you, too. Humor him. He's old. An' when you

that-it wouldn

ntry. It'll weed out the riffraff.… See here, Kurt, I'm goin'

I heard a good deal. Strangers have approached us here, too-mostly aliens. I have no us

to keep mum now, mind you. I belong to the Chamber of Commerce in Spokane. Somebody got hold of these by-laws of this so-called labor union. We've

d then, slipping folded sheets of paper from his inside c

e's the drive

the car," re

was something to have been haunted by a girl's

y new men these days," went on Anderson. "Here now,

mark, he opened the sheets of manuscri

I.W.W. aimed to abolish capital. Kurt read on with slowly growing amaze, consternation, and an

sure-enough rules of that gang. We made certai

rt, hotly. "They're outlaws, thieves, bl

to meet them-to prevent them gettin' a hold out here. It's a labor union, mostly aliens, with dishonest an' unscrupulous leaders, some of them Americans. They aim to take advantage of the war

have you taken down in y

give them high wages, an' caution them when strangers

eriously. "We need, say, a hundred thousand men in harve

desert you could have a heap of trouble if that outfit got here strong

ere," replied Dorn. "Olsen over there is a Swede, and not a nat

ieve our driver is listening to you

voice. It made Dorn dare to look at her, and

, under his breath; his look just then was full

teresting than mine," he said, dryly. "I'l

esy in his words, his face flamed, and he stammered: "I-I don't mean that. But father is in bad mo

ted the rancher. "I'll beard the old

k of the war," sai

cle Sam," declared Anderson, with a twinkl

that it could not be avoided. Then Kurt was confused, astounded, infuriated with himself over a situation he had not brough

n you-before?"

thrilled Kurt out of h

swered, facing her. It was a relief to

t time, and the second at Spokane, in

u remembered both times!"

lped remembering." Her laugh was low,

education. He knew wheat, but nothing of the eternal feminine. So it was impossible for him to grasp that this girl was not wholly at her ease. Her words

ou.… Oh, I must have been rude.… But, Miss Anderson, I-I didn't mean to be. I didn't think you

ceptible to Dorn, even in his co

nt," she returned. "I remembered

cover his composure. He wished she had not been kind. What a singular chance that had brought her here to his home-the daughter of a man who came to demand a long-unpaid debt! What a dispelling

ied wheat," said the girl, presently,

g hands, scarred and knotted, with horny palms uppermost, and he laughed. "I can be proud of them, Miss Anderson.… But

raising of it, I m

tender green, and the change day by day to the deep waving fields of gold-then the harvest, hot, noisy, smoky, full of dust and chaff, and the great combine-harvesters with thirty-four horses. Oh! I

bread," she rejoined, and her laugh was low a

use," he said, stoutly. "And I flatte

ty well. But I learned too much there. Now my mother and sisters,

brother? How

He-he is just past twenty-one."

den break in her voice, the change in her face, t

e-this need of wa

ly. "But maybe your bro

patted him on the back.… If anything happens to him it'll kill my mother.

ears here on this farm. He always hated England. Now he's bitter against Ameri

g that against any one who's lived here

the army. But I'm going to fight against his

l sighed and her eyes were

ing a very red face. His eyes gleamed, with angry glints; his mouth a

n!" he exclaimed, vociferously; manife

eriously and knowingly

to reason with him-told him I wanted my money-was here to help him get that money off the farm, some way or ot

bed face of the rancher. Miss Ande

t he ordered me out of the house. I got mad an' wouldn't go. Then

oment. But, amazingly, Miss Anderson

match at last.… You know you always-boasted of your drop of

e excuse to palliate his restraint. "I'm mad-but it was funny." Th

ned to meet the dancing blue eyes of the girl, merry, provocative, full

p 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 intere

a square man, and I'

t," interrupted Anderson. "Len

ughter, and she took u

n, to the edge of the open slope where the wheat str