"I left them there for you to see," he said. "As a rule nobody ever finds out how a grass-fire starts, but I think the origin of this one is tolerably plain. You will, of course, have noticed that it is within the guard-furrows. Perhaps the fellow didn't remember the matches, or he may have left them as a hint. I suppose it is gratifying to feel that your enemy knows you intended it when you hurt him." Gallwey's face hardened, and he went on: "Jake wakened first, and we had the boys out in five minutes, but the fire was on the stables then. We couldn't get the door open, either, and had to wait while one of them brought an axe. I don't know what jammed it, because, when I went back to see, it was burnt, but it never stuck fast before. Well, we did what we could, but we couldn't save the four horses you saw, and, if it hadn't been for the rain, we might have lost them all." Leland, looking about him, noticed again that the fire had started just where the grass was tallest, and within the guard-furrows ploughed to cut the homestead off from the sweep of the prairie. This fire, it was very evident to him, had been started with a definite purpose that it had come very near accomplishing. "We have everything against us this year," he said, and his brown face showed very hard and stern. "Still, by the Lord, if we have to go under, there's going to be a struggle first." CHAPTER XV BENEFICENT RAIN When Gallwey left him, Leland walked slowly through the bluff where the birches rustled softly under the caress of a warm, gentle breeze. There was a different note in their low murmur now, for the lace-like twigs were covered with slender leaves, and a new scent rose from the steaming mould. Leland noticed it vacantly, scarcely seeing the silver stems; for, susceptible as he was to all of Nature's moods, he was, at the time, bracing himself for the long struggle before him. There was so much against him, and the loss of his horses had filled him with an overwhelming indignation against the men who had wantonly injured him. He was combative by nature, as every man with a strenuous purpose must necessarily be. With vindictive bitterness, he thought of the burnt and mangled beasts that had worked for him so well. Once more his lips set, and, brushing heedlessly through the bluff, he clenched one hard hand. Men and circumstances might prove too strong for him; but he would, at least, go on until he was crushed, and leave his mark upon his enemies before they brought him down. Then, coming out from among the trees, he stopped with a little indrawing of his breath as he glanced at the ploughing. It had been, when he last saw it, a waste of clods rent into hot and dusty fragments, but now all the wide basin and long slope of rise were sprinkled with flecks of green, and he stood gazing at it with softening face and glowing eyes. The kindly rain had touched the parched and dusty soil, and the old familiar miracle had again happened.