Through a rift in the strip of woodland between the Sunnyside fields and Yancey Battick's place, he saw a lovely plain of green. It looked so very different from his own wheatlands that Hiram ventured across the boundary fence to examine the patch more closely.
Here was not more than an acre of level, wheat-covered land. He saw that the grain had been sown very thinly; and yet the plants had stooled so well that, at a little distance, it seemed as though the ground was matted by the grain plants.
If this was the red-streaked wheat it must be wonderfully productive. At least, the plant itself was thrifty and lush—far beyond any wheat Hiram Strong had ever seen. Whether it was of the bearded or smooth variety, the grain from such a plant must make a heavy and paying harvest.
He looked up suddenly to see Yancey Battick—his face inflamed and gun in hand—bearing down upon him with so savage a demeanor that Hiram confessed himself frightened.
CHAPTER XIV
YANCEY BATTICK'S STORY
"What are you doing there?" demanded Battick, with his gun cocked and the muzzle on a level with Hiram Strong's breast. "Have I got to give you a lesson, too?"
"You certainly are teaching me something, Mr. Battick," returned the young farmer with flushed face and angry look. "Put down that gun! What do you mean by threatening to shoot me?"
"I'll more than threaten to do it!" declared the man wildly. "You get away from that wheat! You get off this farm! And you stay off!"
"What is the matter with you, Mr. Battick?" cried Hiram. "Are you crazy? You haven't got your farm posted over there where I entered."