Evidently the telling of his story had relieved Dorn.  The strain relaxed in his white face and it lost a little of its stern fixity.  He got up and, opening his bag, he took out some papers.

“Mr. Anderson, I’d like to settle all this right now,” he said.  “I want it off my mind.”

“Go ahead, son, an’ settle,” replied Anderson, thickly.  He heaved a big sigh and then sat down, fumbling for a match to light his cigar.  When he got it lighted he drew in a big breath and with it manifestly a great draught of consoling smoke.

“I want to make over the—­the land—­in fact, all the property—­to you—­to settle mortgage and interest,” went on Dorn, earnestly, and then paused.

“All right.  I expected that,” returned Anderson, as he emitted a cloud of smoke.

“The only thing is—­” here Dorn hesitated, evidently with difficult speech—­“the property is worth more than the debt.”

“Sure.  I know,” said Anderson, encouragingly.

“I promised our neighbors big money to harvest our wheat.  You remember you told me to offer it.  Well, they left their own wheat and barley fields to burn, and they saved ours.  And then they harvested it and hauled it to the railroad....  I owe Andrew Olsen fifteen thousand dollars for himself and the men who worked with him....  If I could pay that—­I’d—­almost be happy....  Do you think my property is worth that much more than the debt?”

“I think it is—­just about,” replied Anderson.  “We’ll mail the money to Olsen....  Lenore, write out a check to Andrew Olsen for fifteen thousand.”

Lenore’s hand trembled as she did as her father directed.  It was the most poorly written check she had ever drawn.  Her heart seemed too big for her breast just then.  How cool and calm her father was!  Never had she loved him quite so well as then.  When she looked up from her task it was to see a change in Kurt Dorn that suddenly dimmed her eyes.

“There, send this to Olsen,” said Anderson.  “We’ll run into town in a day or so an’ file the papers.”

Lenore had to turn her gaze away from Dorn.  She heard him in broken, husky accents try to express his gratitude.

“Ah-huh!  Sure—­sure!” interrupted Anderson, hastily.  “Now listen to me.  Things ain’t so bad as they look....  For instance, we’re goin’ to fool the I.W.W. down here in the valley.”

“How can you?  There are so many,” returned Dorn.

“You’ll see.  We’re just waitin’ a chance.”

“I saw hundreds of I.W.W. men between her and Kilo.”

“Can you tell an I.W.W. from any other farm-hand?” asked Anderson.

“Yes, I can,” replied Dorn, grimly.

“Wal, I reckon we need you round here powerful much,” said the rancher, dryly.  “Dorn, I’ve got a big proposition to put up to you.”

Lenore, thrilling at her father’s words, turned once more.  Dorn appeared more composed.

“Have you?” he inquired, in surprise.