"Who about here knew anything about this wheat?" asked Hiram. "Yes, you might as well let Orrin know about it. I can assure you I have not told him."
"What's that?" asked Post curiously.
"This wheat!" almost sobbed Yancey Battick. "It was a special variety that I was raising for seed. They have burned it up on me! Oh, the rascals!"
"Who do you suspect?" demanded Orrin again. "Couldn't it have been set on fire by accident?"
"How by accident? There was no lightning accompanied that tempest. I tell you somebody came here and set it off. I have had as bad done to me before."
"Who could it have been?" Hiram murmured. "And so soon after that terrible wind. You wouldn't think anybody would have gone out in that gale to do a neighbor an ill turn."
"Hey!" ejaculated Orrin suddenly. "There's that Ad Banks."
"Where?" demanded Hiram turning around quickly.
"I don't mean that he is here now," Orrin said grimly. "But don't you remember we saw him coming down the road in this direction in the middle of that rain storm?"
"So we did," Hiram agreed.