The front of the wide belt of grain was ragged and bitten into hollows by the driving sand.  The torn stalks drooped and slanted away from the wind, while others that had fallen lay about their roots.  Farther in, the damage was less, but the ears were half-filled and shriveled.  The field was parti-colored, for the dull, dark green had changed to a dingy, sapless hue, and the riper patches had a sickly yellow tinge instead of a coppery gleam.

Festing’s face hardened.  If he thrashed out half the number of bushels he had expected, he would be lucky.  He had staked all he had on the chances of the weather and had lost.  It was his first failure and came as a rude shock to his self-confidence.  He felt shaken and disgusted with himself, for it looked as if he had been a rash fool.  Still, if rain came now, he might save enough to obviate the necessity of using Helen’s money.  She would give him all he asked for, but this was a matter about which he felt strongly, and she knew his point of view.

Driving on, he met the mail-carrier, who gave him a letter.  It was from Kerr, his former chief on the railroad, who had been moved to a new section on the Pacific Slope.  He told Festing about certain difficulties they had encountered, and the latter felt a curious interest.  Indeed, he looked back with a touch of regret to the strenuous days he had spent at the construction camps.  The work was hard, but one was provided with the material required and efficient tools.  Then there was freedom from the responsibility he felt now; one did one’s best and the company took the risk.

Festing’s interest deepened when, at the end of the letter, Kerr told him about a contract for which nobody seemed anxious to tender.  It was a difficult undertaking, but Kerr thought a bold, resourceful man could carry it out with profit.  He did not know if it would appeal to Festing, although prairie farmers sometimes went to work with their teams on a new track when their harvest was poor.  Kerr ended with the hope that this was not the case with Festing.

The latter sat still for a few minutes with his brows knit and then started his team.  It was too late to think of railroad contracts; he had chosen his line and must stick to it, but his look was irresolute as he drove on.

Some time after Festing reached the settlement, Wilkinson and three or four others sat, smoking, in the poolroom.  This supplied a useful hint about their character, because supper would not be ready for an hour or two, and industrious people were busily occupied.  The room was hot, the floor and green tables were sprinkled with poisoned flies, and the wooden chairs were uncomfortably hard, but it was cooler than the sidewalk, and the men lounged with their feet on the empty stove.

“Does anybody feel like another game?” one asked.

“No,” said the man he looked at.  “I’ve lost three dollars, and that’s all I can spare.  Can’t spare it, for that matter, but it’s gone.  I’m going broke if this weather lasts.