I want to blue-stone to-day." After telephoning Cutter, Harran put on his hat, went over to the barns, and found Phelps.

Phelps had already cleaned out the vat which was to contain the solution of blue-stone, and was now at work regrading the seed.

Against the wall behind him ranged the row of sacks.

Harran cut the fastenings of these and examined the contents carefully, taking handfuls of wheat from each and allowing it to run through his fingers, or nipping the grains between his nails, testing their hardness.
The seed was all of the white varieties of wheat and of a very high grade, the berries hard and heavy, rigid and swollen with starch.
"If it was all like that, sir, hey ?" observed Phelps.
Harran put his chin in the air.
"Bread would be as good as cake, then," he answered, going from sack to sack, inspecting the contents and consulting the tags affixed to the mouths.
"Hello," he remarked, "here's a red wheat.

Where did this come from ?" "That's that red Clawson we sowed to the piece on Four, north the Mission Creek, just to see how it would do here.