"I don't know; I can't claim to be a friend of his."
"Well, it doesn't matter, as I've nothing to do with him. Now that I'm here, I'll say that I'd be glad to accommodate you and your partner if you want to extend your operations or hold on for better prices at any time. You're putting in a big crop."
"Thanks; I don't think we'll make a deal," Devine drawled. "We don't farm for the benefit of another man. When I haul my wheat to the elevators I want the money myself, and not to turn it over to somebody else, who'll leave me a few pennies to go on with."
Davies took his leave soon afterward, and Devine and Harding went back to the plow. They had some trouble in keeping steam, and after a little the heavy engine sank into the soft soil as they crossed a hollow where the melting snow had run. The ribbed wheels went in deeper as they crushed down the boggy mold, and ground up the fence posts the men thrust under them. Before long they were embedded to the axle, and Harding turned off the steam.
"Bring the wagon and drop me off a spade as you pass," he said. "I'll dig her out while you drive to the bluff and cut the biggest poplar logs you can find."
When Devine hurried away he sat down and lighted his pipe. Until he got the spade there was nothing to be done and much to think about. To begin with, Davies' visit had turned his attention upon a matter that had already occupied his thoughts, and proved it worth consideration. The Allenwood homesteads were the best in the country, the settlement was fortunately located, and its inhabitants were people of intelligence. Their progress had been retarded by customs and opinions out of place on the prairie, but they might go a long way if these were abandoned. They were farming on the wrong lines, and wasting effort, but Harding did not think this would continue. Already some among them were pressing for a change. Harding was ready to work his big farm alone, but he looked to Allenwood for help that would benefit all.
The matter, however, had a more important side. Although Beatrice had refused him he did not despair; she had shown that she did not regard him with complete indifference. It was not his personal character, but his position and her father's hostility that stood in the way, and these were obstacles that might be overcome. He could expect nothing but the Colonel's stern opposition, and he must carefully arm himself for the fight; he did not undervalue the power of his antagonist.
Devine returned and threw him down a spade, and for the next hour Harding worked steadily, digging a trench to the buried wheels and beating its bottom flat. When his comrade came back they lined it with the logs he brought, and Harding started the engine. The machine shook and rattled, straining and panting under a full head of steam, but the wheels churned furiously in the soil and smashed the ends of the logs they bit upon. One big piece shot out of the trench and narrowly missed Devine, who fell among the harrows when he jumped. Harding stopped the engine as his friend got up.
"This won't do," he said. "We'll cut a log into short billets."
They packed some, split into sections, under the wheels, and Harding restarted the engine.