The Desert of Wheat

is throat, Kurt Dorn stood stock-still, watching the m

veil and then slowly closed it. She had changed. There was something intangible about her that last moment, baffling, haunting. He leaned against a crooked old gate-post that as a boy he had climbed, and the thought came to him that this spot would all his l

t. Kurt trembled and a hot rush of tears dimmed his eyes. All at once his lot seemed unbearable. An immeasurable barrier had arisen between him and his old father-a hideous thing of blood, of years, of ineradicable difference; the broad acres of wheatland

is fate. She would never be anything to him, but he and her brother Jim and many other young Americans must be incalculable all to her. That thought saved Kurt Dorn. Ther

n little time. This was the moment of his renunciation, and he imagined that many a young man who had decided to go to war had experienced a strange spiritual division of self. He wondered also if that moment was not

rson's driver. They seemed to be talking earnestly now. Kurt saw Jerry, a trusty and long-tried employee, rather unceremoniously break away from these strangers. But they followed him, headed him off, and with vehement nods and gesticulations appeared to be arguing with him. The other hired men pushed closer, evidently listen

not in the sitting-room, nor in the kitchen. Dinner was ready on the table, and the one servant, an old woman who had served the Dorns for years, appeared impatient

keeping the men

out there with two I.W.W.

not enter until Jerry and Kurt were half done with the meal. They seemed excited and somewhat boisterous, Kurt thought, but once they settled down to eating, after the manner of hungry laborers, they had little to say. Kurt,

you," said Kurt. "Let's

low, gnarled like an old oak-tree. He

bout them I.W.W. fellers?" h

repli

through the country," replied Jerry. "To-day's the first time any of them got to

what?" qu

in from eastward. Idaho an' Montana are gittin' a dose now. Short hours; double wages; join the union; sabo

se two fellow

n the I.W.W.," re

ey want

The big stiff-Glidden, he called himself-must be some shucks in thet I.W.W. He looked an' talked oily at first-very persuadin'; but when I says I wasn't goin' to join no union he got sassy an' bossy. They made me sore, so I tol

hink about this organizatio

atenin' methods is like the way this Glidden talks. If I owned a farm I'd drive such fellers

ou satisfied

eckon a few of us will hev to do all the harvestin'. An', c

that, I will," said Kurt. "

in'. But Andrew agreed. He's Dutch an' pig-headed. Jansen's only too glad to make trouble fer his boss. They're goin' to lay off the rest o

" demanded Kurt. "I'll giv

n' round the farm-ou

u'll never lose anything by sticking to us, I

some kind. The hired men were still at table. They looked down at their plates and said nothing. Ku

alled he takes to roarin' like

alacrity. Old Chris Dorn's roar at his son was a German roar, which did not soothe the young man's rising temper. Of late the father had taken altogether to speaking German. He had never s

oing to lay of

farm?" was the

s father stamping out, but he had reckoned falsely. There was no further sound. Leaving the room in high dudgeon, Kurt h

ng a substantial lunch. Kurt was angry and did not care. His appearance, however, did not faze the strangers. One of them, an American, was a man of about thirty years, clean-shaven, square-jawed, with light, steel

're trespassing?

wrapped a paper round his lunch and leisurely rose, to fasten penetrating eyes

sight of the farmers. You trespass to get at our men and with a lot of lies and guff yo

ire them. That's my business o

e you,

my busin

uld not miss the antagonism of this

lking I.W.W. as if you were one of its leaders; that you don't want a job; that you've got

arked man," said

d talk like an American. But if you are American you're a traitor. We've a war to fight! War with a powerful country

ter Dorn, and your wheat-

leaped to stand over him, watching for a move to draw

marking myself," grim

n to his feet. His cheek was puffing out and his

d Kurt. "The first rule of your I

nent in his countenance. Then Kurt remembered how Anderson had intimated that the secrets of the I.W.W. had been long hidden. Kurt, keen and quick in his sensibilities, divined that there was something powerful back of this Glidden's cunning and assurance. Could it be only the power of a new labor organization? That might well be great, but the idea did not convince Kurt. During a hurried and tremendous preparation by the

essened the habit of worry. Soon he ascertained that only Morgan had returned to work in the fields. Andrew and Jansen we

t ten years, he would have been a rich man. He could have walked it blindfolded. It was fallow ground, alread

d to walk. The four big horses plodded at a gait that made Kurt step out to keep up with them. To keep up, to drive a straight line, to hold back on the reins, was labor for a man. It

and the steel spikes of the harrow, he had to bat his eyes to keep from being blinded. The smell of dust clogged his nostrils. As s

urned soil. How brown and clean and earthy it looked! Where the harrow had cut and ridged, the soil did not look thirsty

e in that region. The sight of these men, some of them carrying bags and satchels, was disturbing to the young farmer. Where were they going? All appeared outward bound toward the river. They came, of course, from the littl

id not mind the dust or heat or distance. Never could he be cheated of his thoughts. And those of her, even the painful ones, gave birth to a comfort that he knew must abide with him henceforth on lonely labors such as this, perhaps in the lonelier watches of a soldi

s men; and when the day was done, with the sun setting hot and coppery beyond the dim, d

berating some newly assimilated poison, had threatened revenge. He would see that any hired men would learn a thing

nds, he went to his little attic room, where he changed his damp and sweaty clothes. Then he wen

a shock of gray hair and bristling, grizzled beard. His face was broad, heavy, and seemed sodden with dark, broo

e distance between them seemed so great. Kurt shivered and sighed at once. Then, being hungry, he fell to e

ed Andrew a

t. "It wasn't good judgmen

Men are coming

ong to the I.W.W.

hat's

e best of his knowledge, what the I.W.W. was, and he ended by

" asked old

on, that if the Allies were to win the war it was wheat that would be the greatest factor. Instead of that

e I.W.W. men,"

ising temper. This blind

the farm," retorted Kurt. "I ju

on't like my way you can leav

and hard eyes before him. What could be behind them? Had the war brou

urn me out of my home because we

y their fathers or they

declared Kurt. "And here in Ameri

amily life-no honest gover

e seemed to b

n American woman?… That's rot-just spiteful rot! I've heard you tell what life was in Europe when you were a boy. You ran off. You stayed in this country because it was a

man. "The truth is we'll lose the land.

e harvest and perhaps to help you. Anderson has not had interest on his money for three years. I'll bet he

ched his lass up here to make eyes at my son. I s

back his m

he said, bitterly. "But

king like the mane of a lion. "That wheat banker's daughter

warning note in his voice. "I've no idea of marrying.… But i

t-the land. We'll g

or with a crash. He bent over to pound the table with a fist. Viole

l Germans!… I'm done-I'm through with the very name.… Listen to the las

ut of the door into the night. And as he w

! Oh, m

lls, and it was dry, redolent, sweet. The sky seemed an endl

edge of a wheat-field, to one of the straw-stac

he moaned. "The break-h

hing was labored in gasps and sobs. Unutterable stupidity of his father-horrible cruelty of his position! What had he ever done in all his life to suffer under such a curse? Yet almost he clung to his wrath, for it had

was as if he called to the grave of his m

as over now. The hell was done with. His soul was free. This weak, quaking body of his housed his tainted blood and the emotions of his heart, but it could no

chirped low, incessantly; the night

ling white stars, and then away across the shadows of round hills in the d

eside him-the spirit of his mother or of some one who loved him and who would have him be true to an ideal, and, if needful, die for it. No night in all his life before had been like this one. The dreaming hills with their precious rustling wheat meant more than even a spirit could tel

ith its mercy, its succor, its seed like the wheat, was as infinite as the stars. He had long made up his mind, yet that had not given him absolute restraint. The world was full of little men, but he refused to stay little. This war that had come between him and his father had been bred of the fumes of self-centered minds, turned with an i

in the dreaming night, it had turned into a blessing. He asked nothing but to serve. To serve her, his country, his future! All at once he

ould never know, but the divinity he sensed there in the presence of those stars did not dwell on a woman's lips. Kisses were for the present, the all too fleeting present; and he had to concern himself with what he migh

ose changeless blood had sickened at the son of his loins; the life of hope, freedom, of action, of achievement, o

e scale against the thought of a picture of one American girl-blue-eyed, red-lipped, golden-haired-as she