"There is something great, magnificently great in all this, something that dwarfs The Red Knight himself."
At his words the girl sought her companion's eyes. Swiftly she divined his thoughts.
"You mean somebody is great, do you?" said she.
Andy nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes. There is Edward Pullar and Ned, himself, and the little mother. These dear neighbours of ours have been great in vision and patience. We have not understood. Most people about Pellawa never will. The old homestead at The Craggs has been a place of unobtrusive but astounding achievement. These quiet farmers are mighty benefactors. What farmers they are!"
"Look!" cried Margaret, suddenly pointing into the west.
Along the distant edge of the wheat were moving three shapes, black shadows of riders suspended in the amber light as they skimmed along the high shoulder of an upper bench. A moment only were they visible. Then they melted into the yellow sea.
"The McClures!" announced Margaret, a reflective light shining in her eyes. "This is Mary's first ride—since the storm. She is happy to-night."
"I am sure she is. But how do you know?" mused Andy.
"The curvetings of Bobs assured me," was the reply. "Mary is in the happy mood that inspires Bobs with a foolish notion that he has wings instead of legs and must fly away."