“‘Very little ploughing has been done in the tracts of Minnesota previously alluded to. Farmers find wheat cannot be grown at present prices, and there is apparently no prospect of a rise,’” he said.
“‘The Dakota wheat-growers are mostly following. They can’t quite figure how they would get eighty cents for the dollar’s worth of seeding this year.’
“‘Milling very quiet in Winnipeg. No inquiries from Europe coming in, and Manitoba dealers generally find little demand for harrows or seeders this year. Reports from Assiniboia seem to show that the one hope this season will be mixed farming and the neglect of cereals.’”
“There is only one inference,” he said. “When the demand comes there will be nothing to meet it with.”
“When it comes,” said Maud Barrington quietly. “But you who believe it will stand alone.”
“Almost,” said Witham. “Still there are a few much cleverer men who feel as I do. I can’t give you all my reasons, or read you the sheaf of papers from the Pacific slope, London, New York, Australia; but, while men lose hope, and little by little the stocks run down, the world must be fed. Just as sure as the harvest follows the sowing, it will wake up suddenly to the fact that it is hungry. They are buying cotton and scattering their money in other nations’ bonds in the old country now, for they and the rest of Europe forget their necessities at times, but it is impossible to picture them finding their granaries empty and clamouring for bread?”
It was a crucial test of faith, and the man knew it, as the woman did. He stood alone, with the opinions of the multitude against him; but there was, Maud Barrington felt, a great if undefinable difference between his quiet resolution and the gambler’s recklessness. Once more the boldness of his venture stirred her, and this time there was a little flash in her eyes as she bore witness to her perfect confidence.
“You shall have the land, every acre of it, to do what you like with, and I will ask no questions whether you win or lose,” she said.
Then Miss Barrington glanced at him in turn. “Lance, I have a thousand dollars I want you to turn into wheat for me.”
Witham’s fingers trembled, and a darker hue crept into his tan. “Madam,” he said, “I can take no money from you.”