The land was no longer barren,--no longer empty, no longer dull brown.

All at once Annixter shouted aloud.
There it was, the Wheat, the Wheat! The little seed long planted, germinating in the deep, dark furrows of the soil, straining, swelling, suddenly in one night had burst upward to the light.

The wheat had come up.

It was there before him, around him, everywhere, illimitable, immeasurable.

The winter brownness of the ground was overlaid with a little shimmer of green.