“Right across,” said French, “and just where it suits them.”

“Indeed, and it wouldn’t be my land they would be putting that railroad over, I’ll warrant ye.”

“You could not stop them, Mack,” said French; “they have got the whole Government behind them.”

“I would be putting some slugs into them, whateffer,” said Mackenzie.  “There will be no room in the country any more, and no sleeping at night for the noise of them injins.”

Mackenzie was right.  That surveyor’s flag was the signal that waved out the old order and waved in the new.  The old free life, the only life Mackenzie knew, where each man’s will was his law, and where law was enforced by the strength of a man’s right hand, was gone forever from the plains.  Those great empty spaces of rolling prairie, swept by viewless winds, were to be filled up now with the abodes of men.  Mackenzie and his world must now disappear in the wake of the red man and the buffalo before the railroad and the settler.  To Jack French the invasion brought mingled feelings.  He hated to surrender the untrammelled, unconventional mode of life, for which twenty years ago he had left an ancient and, as it seemed to his adventurous spirit, a worn-out civilization, but he was quick to recognize, and in his heart was glad to welcome, a change that would mean new life and assured prosperity to Kalman, whom he had come to love as a son.  To Kalman that surveyor’s flag meant the opening up of a new world, a new life, rich in promise of adventure and achievement.  French noticed his glowing face and eyes.

“Yes, Kalman, boy,” he said, “it will be a great thing for you, great for the country.  It means towns and settlements, markets and money, and all the rest.”

“We will have no trouble selling our potatoes and our oats now,” said the boy.

“Not a bit,” said French; “we could sell ten times what we have to sell.”

“And why not get ten times the stuff?” cried the boy.

French shrugged his shoulders.  It was hard to throw off the old laissez faire of the pioneer.

“All right, Kalman, you go on.  I will give you a free hand.  Mackenzie and I will back you up; only don’t ask too much of us.  There will be hundreds of teams at work here next year.”

“One hundred teams!” exclaimed Kalman.  “How much oats do you think they will need?  One thousand bushels?”

“One thousand! yes, ten thousand, twenty thousand.”

Kalman made a rapid calculation.

“Why, that would mean three hundred acres of oats at least, and we have only twenty acres in our field.  Oh!  Jack!” he continued, “let us get every horse and every man we can, and make ready for the oats.  Just think! one hundred acres of oats, five or six thousand bushels, perhaps more, besides the potatoes.”

“Oh, well, they won’t be along to-day, Kalman, so keep cool.”

“But we will have to break this year for next,” said the boy, “and it will take us a long time to break one hundred acres.”