The farmer glanced at the documents, and smiled with contentment as he took the check.  “I’m glad I listened to you,” he said.  “It’s unfortunate for him and his niece that Barrington wouldn’t—­at least, not until he had lost the opportunity.”

“I don’t understand,” said Winston.

“No,” said the farmer, “you’ve been away.  Well, you know it takes a long while to get an idea into the Colonel’s head, but once it’s in, it’s even harder to get it out again.  Now Barrington looked down on wheat jobbing, but money’s tight at Silverdale, and when he saw what you were making, he commenced to think.  Accordingly, he’s going to sell, and, as he seems convinced that wheat will not go up again, let half the acreage lie fallow this season.  The worst of it is, the others will follow him, and he controls Maud Barrington’s property as well as his own.”

Winston’s face was grave.  “I heard In Winnipeg that most of the smaller men, who had lost courage, were doing the same thing.  That means a very small crop of western hard, and millers paying our own prices.  Somebody must stop the Colonel.”

“Well,” said Macdonald dryly, “I wouldn’t like to be the man, and after all, it’s only your opinion.  As you have seen, the small men here and in Minnesota are afraid to plow.”

Winston laughed softly.  “The man who makes the dollars is the one who sees farther than the crowd.  Any way, I found the views of one or two men who make big deals were much the same as mine, and I’ll speak to Miss Barrington.”

“Then, if you wait a little, you will have an opportunity.  She is here, you see.”

Winston looked disconcerted.  “She should not have been.  Why didn’t you send her home?  There’ll be snow before she reaches Silverdale.”

Macdonald laughed.  “I hadn’t noticed the weather, and, though my wife wished her to stay, there is no use in attempting to persuade Miss Barrington to do anything when she does not want to.  In some respects she is very like the Colonel.”

The farmer led the way into another room, and Winston flushed a little when the girl returned his greeting in a fashion which he fancied the presence of Mrs. Macdonald alone rendered distantly cordial.  Still, a glance through the windows showed him that delay was inadvisable.

“I think you had better stay here all night, Miss Barrington,” he said.  “There is snow coming.”

“I am sorry our views do not coincide,” said the girl.  “I have several things to attend to at the Grange.”

“Then Macdonald will keep your team, and I will drive you home,” said Winston.  “Mine are the best horses at Silverdale, and I fancy we will need all their strength.”

Miss Barrington looked up sharply.  There had been a little ring in Winston’s voice, but there was also a solicitude in his face which almost astonished her, and when Macdonald urged her to comply she rose leisurely.