If those endless wheat-fields were indeed ruined, what a pity, what a tragedy! Not only would young Dorn be ruined, but perhaps many other toiling farmers.

Somehow Lenore felt no hopeless certainty of ruin for the young man in whom she was interested.
"There, on that slope!" spoke up Anderson, pointing to a field which was yellow in contrast to the surrounding gray field.

"There's a half-section of fair wheat." But such tinges of harvest gold were not many in half a dozen miles of dreary hills.

Where were the beautiful shadows in the wheat?
wondered Lenore.

Not a breath of wind appeared to stir across those fields.
As the car neared the top of a hill the road curved into another, and Lenore saw a dusty flash of another car passing on ahead.
Suddenly Jake leaned forward.
"Boss, I seen somethin' throwed out of thet car--into the wheat," he said.
"What ?--Mebbe it was a bottle," replied Anderson, peering ahead.
"Nope.