“You fixed him,” he remarked.  “He has the name of being a tough.”

“I suppose an Englishman newly out is considered lawful prey.”

“A few of them deserve it,” Grant returned dryly.  “But let that go.  What do you think of the place?”

George felt that he could trust the farmer.  He had spent a depressing day, during which all he saw had discouraged him.  Marston had farmed in a singularly wasteful manner; fences and outbuildings were in very bad repair; half the implements were useless; and it would be a long and costly task to put things straight.

“I feel that I’ll have my hands full.  In fact, I’m a little worried about it; there are so many changes that must be made.”

“Sure.  Where are you going to begin?”

“By getting as much summer fallowing as possible done on the second quarter-section.  The first has been growing wheat for some time; I’ll sew part of that with timothy.  There’s one bit of stiff land I might put in flax.  I’ve thought of trying corn for the silo.”

“Timothy and a silo?” commented Grant.

“You’re going in for stock, then?  It means laying out money, and a slow return.”

“I’m afraid so.  Still, you can’t grow cereals year after year on this light soil.  It’s a wasteful practise that will have to be abandoned, as people here seem to be discovering.  Grain won’t pay at sixteen bushels to the acre.”

“A sure thing,” Grant agreed.  “I’m sticking right to wheat, but that’s because I’m too old to change my system, and I’m on black soil, which holds out longer.”

“But you’re taking the nature out of it.”

“It will see me through if I fallow,” said Grant.  “When I’ve done with it and sell out, somebody else can experiment with mixed crops and stock-raising.  That’s going to become the general plan, but it’s costly at the beginning.”  Then he rose.  “I’ll walk round the place with you.”

They went out, and the girl fell behind with Edgar.  He had learned that her name was Flora.

“Mr. Lansing seems to understand farming,” she remarked.  “He didn’t tell us he had been on the prairie before.”

“He hasn’t told you now,” Edgar pointed out.

“George never does tell things about himself unless there’s a reason.”

“He soon got rid of the fellow who sowed the crop.”

Edgar laughed.

“I knew the man would meet with a surprise.  George’s abilities are not, as a rule, obvious at first sight.  People find them out by accident, and then they’re somewhat startled.”

“You’re evidently an admirer of his.  Do you mean to go in for farming?”

“I am, though I wouldn’t have him suspect it,” said Edgar.  “In answer to the other question, I haven’t made up my mind.  Farming as it’s carried on in this country seems to be a rather arduous occupation.  In the meanwhile, I’m undergoing what English people seem to think of as the Canadian cure; that is, I’ve been given a chance for readjusting my ideas and developing my character.”