“Very late planting—­that is, four or five weeks after the first good fall rains—­is also an effective practice.  Fall tillage of summer fallow, other than plowing, seems to be beneficial.

“No smut-immune varieties of wheat are known, but the standard varieties show varying degrees of resistance.  Spring wheats generally suffer less from smut than winter varieties.  This is not due to any superior resistance, but rather to the fact that they escape infection.  If only spring wheats were grown our smut problem would largely disappear; but a return to this practice is not suggested, since the winter wheats are much more desirable.  It seems probable that the conditions which prevail during the growing season may have considerable influence on the per cent of smut in any given variety.”

* * * * *

When Dorn finished his discourse, to receive the thanks of his listeners, they walked back through the yard toward the road.  Mr. Anderson, who led the way, halted rather abruptly.

“Hum!  Who’re those men talkin’ to my driver?” he queried.

Dorn then saw a couple of strangers standing near the motor-car, engaged in apparently close conversation with the chauffeur.  Upon the moment they glanced up to see Mr. Anderson approaching, and they rather hurriedly departed.  Dorn had noted a good many strangers lately—­men whose garb was not that of farmers, whose faces seemed foreign, whose actions were suspicious.

“I’ll bet a hundred they’re I.W.W.’s,” declared Anderson.  “Take my hunch, Dorn.”

The strangers passed on down the road without looking back.

“Wonder where they’ll sleep to-night?” muttered Dorn.

Anderson rather sharply asked his driver what the two men wanted.  And the reply he got was that they were inquiring about work.

“Did they speak English?” went on the rancher.

“Well enough to make themselves understood,” replied the driver.

Dorn did not get a good impression from the shifty eyes and air of taciturnity of Mr. Anderson’s man, and it was evident that the blunt rancher restrained himself.  He helped his daughter into the car, and then put on his long coat.  Next he shook hands with Dorn.

“Young man, I’ve enjoyed meetin’ you, an’ have sure profited from same,” he said.  “Which makes up for your dad!  I’ll run over here again to see you—­around harvest-time.  An’ I’ll be wishin’ for that rain.”

“Thank you.  If it does rain I’ll be happy to see you,” replied Dorn, with a smile.

“Well, if it doesn’t rain I won’t come.  I’ll put it off another year, an’ cuss them other fellers into holdin’ off, too.”

“You’re very kind.  I don’t know how I’d—­we’d ever repay you in that case.”

“Don’t mention it.  Say, how far did you say it was to Palmer?  We’ll have lunch there.”

“It’s fifteen miles—­that way,” answered Dorn.  “If it wasn’t for—­for father I’d like you to stay—­and break some of my bread.”