Canada, Western -- Fiction; Farm life -- Canada -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction
Carrie guessed what he was thinking as he looked in silence out across
the ripening wheat. As she gazed at the vast sweep of grain, she, too,
was stirred with the pride of possession and accomplishment. She longed
now for the glitter of the assembly, for conversation as one of them
with men and women of culture and station, with a fervour which in all
probability any one who had lived, as she had, on the lonely prairie
levels would quite understand. But, with a little sigh, she crushed the
longing down.
"Then," she said quietly, "we will stay here, Charley."
Leland appeared irresolute. "After all, we wouldn't be so very long
away."
"No," said Carrie, firmly. "There is a lot against you, and you mustn't
leave a single advantage to the enemy."
Leland stooped and kissed her. "Well, I guess you're right--still, I
think I know what you're going to do without for me."
Nothing more was said, but it was not needed, for there was perfect
understanding between them as they went into the house together.
It was early next morning when Leland harnessed four horses to the big
gang-plough, and, as there was moonlight that night, he still sat behind
another four until long after the red sun went down. There were other
men he could have bidden to do the work for him, but he knew the odds
against him, and meant to do it himself thoroughly. It was also careful
ploughing, and not done in haste, as is most usual in the West, for
throughout most of it the clods ran dead smooth and level, without a
break to let the grass tussocks through. Their sides, gleaming from
contact with the polished steel, were laid towards the prairie,
presenting to it a serried phalanx of good, black loam; but where the
sod was unusually friable, Leland got down to toil with the spade.
A grass-fire needs very little to help it. A tuft or two of dry grass
projecting from a half-turned clod will suffice, and the flame will
sometimes creep in and out between and across the ridges, wherever a few
withered stalks may lie. Leland knew he had not done with the rustlers
yet, and it was advisable to take due precautions. The standard
guard-furrows were considered quite enough by most of his neighbours,
who, indeed, now and then neglected to plough them. But he had a good
deal at stake, and meant, in so far as it was permitted him, to make
quite sure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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