He paid no particular attention to the sentence at the time, but it stuck in his memory.

The day was fine and dry, and the thresher was run at the top of its speed.  One more day would finish the stacks, and as this was the last threshing to be done in the neighborhood, the greatest effort was put forth to finish it before the weather broke.

They urged him to stay the night—­they would begin again at daylight—­ the weather was so uncertain.

He thought, of course, that the twins were safely at home, and Evelyn had often said that she was not afraid to stay.  He had consented to stay, when all at once the weather changed.

The clouds had hung low and heavy all day, but after sundown a driving wind carrying stray flakes of snow began to whistle around the stacks.  The air, too, grew heavy, and a feeling of oppression began to be evident.

The pigs ran across the yard carrying a mouthful of straw, and the cattle crowded into the sheds.  Soon the ground was covered with loose snow, which began to whirl in gentle, playful eddies.  The warmth of the air did not in any way deceive the experienced dwellers on the plain, who knew that the metallic whistle in the wind meant business.

The owner of the threshing machine covered it up with canvas, and all those who had been helping, as soon as they had supper, started to make the journey to their homes.  It looked as if a real Manitoba blizzard was setting in.

In spite of the protestations of all the men, Fred did not wait for his supper, but set out at once on the three-mile walk home.

Evelyn’s hasty words still stung him with the sense of failure and defeat.  If Evelyn had gone back on him what good was anything to him?

Walking rapidly down the darkening trail, his thoughts were very bitter and self-reproachful; he had done wrong, he told himself, to bring her to such a lonely place—­it would have been better for Evelyn if she had never met him—­she had given up too much for his sake.

He noticed through the drifting storm that there was something ahead of him on the trail, and, quickening his steps, he was surprised to overtake his two brothers leisurely returning from their duck hunt.

“Why did you two fellows leave when you knew I was away?  You know that Evelyn will be frightened to be left there all alone.”

Instantly all his own troubles vanished at the thought of his wife left alone on the wide prairie.

His brothers strongly objected to his words.

“We don’t ’ave to stay to mind ’er, do we?” sneered Reginald.

“Maybe she ain’t alone, either,” broke in Randolph, seeing an opportunity to turn Fred’s wrath in another direction.

“What are you driving at?” asked Fred in surprise.

“Maybe Rance Belmont has dropped in again to spend the evenin’—­he usually does when you’re away!”

“You lie!” cried Fred, angrily.