I can't hire any more, because I can't trust these strangers.

And how can four men--or five, counting me, watch a square mile of wheat day and night ?" The situation looked hopeless to Lenore and she was sick.

What cruel fates toyed with this young farmer! He seemed to be sinking under this last crowning blow.

There in the sky, rolling up and rumbling, was the long-deferred rain-storm that meant freedom from debt, and a fortune besides.

But of what avail the rain if it was to rush the wheat to full bursting measure only for the infernal touch of the foreigner?
Anderson, however, was no longer a boy.