"Why does Jim--and you--think Battick is insane?" Hiram asked her, smiling. "Why, he makes such a fuss over that new wheat." "His whole heart is set upon developing this Staff of Life Wheat," the young farm manager said thoughtfully. "And so is mine, Sister." "What do you mean, Hi?" "I guess I am crazy, too," the young fellow said. "I believe my fortune, as well as Battick's, is wrapped up in that wheat. Somehow, from the very first time I saw the seed in his house, the night I arrived in this neighborhood, I have felt that the new wheat meant much to me." Sister looked at him, puzzled. "I really wish you would say right out what you mean, Hi Strong!" she exclaimed. "I am day dreaming, I suppose," he told her. "But when I look over this billowing field I can see thousands of acres of the same grain, all in one mowing, and a crop that will fill vast granaries with wheat. There would be a fortune in a single crop of such size." "Oh, Hiram, you are thinking of the wheat fields of the great Northwest," Sister said in a low tone. "Are you dreaming of going so far away from us all?" "Sister," said the young farmer seriously, "I set out to farm Mrs. Atterson's Eighty with the idea of making that a stepping-stone for something bigger. I have got the bigger thing; but it is not big enough. I am still working for another man. I want to work for myself." "But--but it takes so much capital to run one of those great wheat ranches." "I know. I couldn't expect to begin at the top. If I begin for myself it must be at the bottom. But I have more than a thousand dollars saved, and I have a quarter interest in Battick's new wheat. Before this time next year, Sister, I ought to have at least five thousand in cash! "When I have that much money I am going to strike out for myself--on my own hook. Whether it will be in the Northwest or not I don't know. But Hiram Strong, Sister, is going to be his own man before he gets through, not another fellow's hired hand!" CHAPTER XXVIII CORN AND COMPARISONS Hiram and Sister (who had as yet not discovered her first name) often discussed her personal mystery. The lawyer who had finally searched her out at the Atterson farm, having traced her through the records of the orphanage in which she had spent so many unhappy years, had neglected to tell her the name with which she had been christened. "Nor do I know my little brother's name. Poor boy! To think of his having been sent to a reform school! I often cry about him, Hiram. How awful it is for him to be wandering about the world, maybe ill-used, beaten, hungry--perhaps growing up _wicked_! He perhaps will not find anybody like Mother Atterson--or you--or Mr. Lem Camp." "I don't know that you had much to congratulate yourself about until we all left Crawberry and got out on Mother Atterson's farm," said Hiram.