“I suspected something after he’d gone and looked for his cheque-book.  He’d torn out a form, but hadn’t filled up the tab.  Bob’s silly when he’s cunning and didn’t think about his blotter.  The top sheet was nearly clean and I read what he’d written, in a looking-glass.”

“Why did he give Wilkinson the money?”

“I guess it’s to speculate in wheat or building-lots, and Bob will certainly lose it all; but that’s not what makes me mad.  After all, it’s his money; he’s been saving it since he steadied down.  I can manage Bob if he’s left alone, and thought I’d cut out the friends he shouldn’t have.  Wilkinson was the only danger left, but he’s a blamed tough proposition.”

Helen knew Festing disliked the man, but she felt puzzled.  “The sum is not very large,” she said.  “I don’t quite see why Wilkinson thought it worth while——­”

“It shows he’s pinched for money, and there’s some hope in that.  Then he doesn’t like me, and I imagine he has a pick on your husband.  Stephen froze him off one day when he was getting after Bob.  Anyhow, I mean to get the money back.”

“But can you?  It is Bob’s cheque.”

“I’m going to try.  The bank deals with me,” Sadie answered.  “But come along; I hear the hired man bringing the rig.”

When they got into the vehicle, Helen remarked that Sadie had brought a flexible riding whip.  Since the quirt was useless for driving, Helen wondered what she meant to do with it.  The trail they took ran through the grass, a sinuous riband of hard-beaten soil that flashed where it caught the light.  It was seamed by ruts and fringed by wild barley but in places the grass had spread across it, leaving gaps, into which the horses’ legs and the wheel sank.  The smell of wild peppermint rose from among the crackling stalks as the team brushed through.  Now and then a prairie-hen got up, and small animals, like English squirrels, squatted by the trail until the wheels were nearly upon them, and then dived into holes.

“The gophers are surely plentiful,” Sadie remarked.  “Don’t know that I’ve seen so many around before, and that’s going to be bad for the grain.  They’re generally worst when the crop is poor.”

“Do you think the crop will be poor?”

Sadie glanced at the sky, which was a dazzling blue, flooded with light, except where the scattered clouds drove by.

“We didn’t get the June rains, and the frost-damp has gone down pretty deep.  Then we have had very few thunder-storms, and the sand is blowing bad.  It makes trouble in parts of Manitoba, but the scrub trees in our sand-hills generally hold it up.  What does Steve think?”

“He hasn’t told me.  Sometimes he looks anxious, but he doesn’t talk about it much.”

“That’s Steve’s way.  I don’t know if it’s a good way.  He sees when he’s up against a hard thing and makes his own plans.  Now I want to know my husband’s troubles.  You feel better when you can talk.”