"I'll try."
"But you must promise. You've done so much for me and my father.… I—I want you to come to see me—at my home."
"Then I'll come," he replied.
Anderson clambered into the car beside his daughter and laid his big hands on the wheel.
"Sure he'll come, or we'll go after him," he declared, heartily. "So long, son."
CHAPTER XI
Late in the forenoon of the next day Kurt Dorn reached home. A hot harvest wind breathed off the wheat-fields. It swelled his heart to see the change in the color of that section of Bluestem—the gold had a tinge of rich, ripe brown.
Kurt's father awaited him, a haggard, gloomy-faced man, unkempt and hollow-eyed.
"Was it you who robbed me?" he shouted hoarsely.
"Yes," replied Kurt. He had caught the eager hope and fear in the old man's tone. Kurt expected that confession would bring on his father's terrible fury, a mood to dread. But old Dorn showed immense relief. He sat down in his relaxation from what must have been intense strain. Kurt saw a weariness, a shade, in the gray lined face that had never been there before.