"Wal, I reckon we can't say. Mebbe five hundred, countin' all along the valley on this side. Then we hear there's more on the other... Boss, if they git ugly we're goin' to lose stock, wheat, an' mebbe some blood." "So many as that!" ejaculated the rancher, in amaze. "They come an' go, an' lately they're most comin'," replied Jake. "When do we begin cuttin' grain?" "I reckon to-morrow. Adams didn't want to start till you got back. It'll be barley an' oats fer a few days, an' then the wheat--if we can git the men." "An' has Adams hired any?" "Yes, a matter of twenty or so. They swore they wasn't I.W.W.'s, but Adams says, an' so do I, thet some of them are men who first claimed to our old hands thet they did belong to the I.W.W." "An' so we've got to take a chance if we're goin' to harvest two thousand acres of wheat?" "I reckon, boss." "Any reports from Ruxton way?" "Wal, yes. But I reckon you'd better git your supper 'fore I tell you, boss." "Jake, you said nothin' had come off." "Wal, nawthin' has around here. Come on now, boss. Miss Lenore says I was to keep my mouth shut." "Jake, who's your boss? Me or Lenore?" "Wal, you air. But I ain't disobeyin' Miss Lenore." Anderson walked the rest of the way up the shady path to the house without saying any more to Jake. The beautiful white house stood clear of the grove, bright in the rays of the setting sun. A barking of dogs greeted Anderson, and then the pattering of feet. His daughters appeared on the porch. Kathleen, who was ten, made a dive for him, and Rose, who was fourteen, came flying after her. Both girls were screaming joyously. Their sunny hair danced. Lenore waited for him at the step, and as he mounted the porch, burdened by the three girls, his anxious, sadly smiling wife came out to make perfect the welcome home. No--not perfect, for Anderson's joy held a bitter drop, the absence of his only son! "Oh, dad, what-all did you fetch me?" cried Kathleen, and she deserted her father for the bundle-laden Jake. "And me!" echoed Rose. Even Lenore, in the happiness of her father's return, was not proof against the wonder and promise of those many bundles. They all went within, through a hall to a great, cozy living-room. Mrs. Anderson's very first words, after her welcoming smile, were a half-faltered: "Any--news of--Jim?" "Why--yes," replied Anderson, hesitatingly. Suddenly the three sisters were silent. How closely they resembled one another then--Lenore, a budding woman; Rose, a budding girl; and Kathleen, a rosy, radiant child! Lenore lost a little of her bloom. "What news, father?" she asked. "Haven't you heard from him?" returned Anderson. "Not for a whole week. He wrote the day he reached Spokane. But then he hardly knew anything except that he'd enlisted."