Langside\'s farm was duly put up at auction, together with a valuable team which he hired out to his neighbors when he left the place, a few implements and a little rude furniture. The sale was held outside, and when George arrived upon the scene during the afternoon a row of light wagons and buggies stood behind the rickety shack, near which was an unsightly pile of broken crockery, discarded clothes and rusty provision cans. It was characteristic of Langside that he had not taken the trouble to carry them as far as the neighboring bluff. In front of the bluff, horses were picketed; along the side ran a strip of black soil, sprinkled with the fresh blades of wheat; and all round the rest of the wide circle the prairie stretched away under cloudless sunshine, flecked with brightest green.

A thin crowd surrounded the auctioneer\'s table, but the men stood in loose clusters, and George, walking through them, noticed that the undesirable element was largely represented. There were a number of small farmers, attracted by curiosity, or perhaps a wish to buy; but these kept to themselves, and men from the settlement of no fixed profession who worked spasmodically at different tasks, and spent the rest of their time in the Sachem, were more plentiful. Besides these, there were some strangers, and George thought the appearance of several was far from prepossessing.

It was a glorious day. There was vigor in the warm breeze that swept the grassy waste; the sunshine that bathed the black loam where the green blades were springing up seemed filled with promise; but as the sale proceeded George became sensible of a vague compunction. The sight of the new wheat troubled him—Langside had laboriously sown that crop, which somebody else would reap. Watching the battered domestic utensils and furniture being carried out for sale had the same disturbing effect. Poor and comfortless as the shack was, it had, until rude hands had desecrated it, been a home. George felt that he was consenting to the ruin of a defenseless man, assisting to drive him forth, a wanderer and an outcast. He wondered how far the terrors of loneliness had urged Langside into his reckless courses—homesteaders scattered about the wide, empty spaces occasionally became insane—but with an effort he overcame the sense of pity.

Langside had slackly given way, and, choosing an evil part, had become a menace to the community; as Grant had said, he must go. This was unavoidable, and though the duty of getting rid of him was painful, it must be carried out. George was usually unsuspicious and of easy-going nature up to a certain point, but there was a vein of hardness in him.

Once or twice the auctioneer was interrupted by jeering cries, but he kept his temper and the sale went on, though George noticed that only a few strangers made any purchases. At length, when the small sundries had been cleared off, there was a curious silence as the land was put up. It was evident that the majority of those present had been warned not to bid.

The auctioneer made a little speech in praise of the property, and paused when it fell flat; then, while George wondered what understanding the creditors had arrived at with Grant, a brown-faced stranger strode forward.

"I\'ve been advised to let this place alone," he said. "I suppose you have a right to sell?"

"Yes, sir," replied the auctioneer. "Come along, and look at my authority, if you want. It\'s mortgaged property that has been foreclosed after the creditors had waited a long while for a settlement, and I may say that the interest demanded is under the present market rate. Everything\'s quite regular; no injustice has been done. If you\'re a purchaser, I\'ll take your bid."

"Then I\'ll raise you a hundred dollars," said the man.

There was a growl of dissatisfaction, and the stranger turned to the part of the crowd from which it proceeded.

"This is an open auction, boys. I was born in the next province, and I\'ve seen a good many farms seized in the years when we have had harvest frost, but this is the first time I ever saw anybody try to interfere with a legal sale. Guess you may as well quit yapping, unless you mean to bid against me."

There was derisive laughter, and a loafer from Sage Butte threw a clod. Then another growl, more angry than the first, broke out as Grant, moving forward into a prominent place, nodded to the auctioneer. His rugged face was impassive, and he ignored the crowd. A number of the farmers strolled toward him and stood near by with a resolute air which had its effect on the others, though George saw by Grant\'s look of surprise that he had not expected this. Another man made a bid, and the competition proceeded languidly, but except for a little mocking laughter and an occasional jeer, nobody interfered. In the end, the stranger bought the land; and soon afterward Grant walked up to George.

"I want the team, if I can get it at a reasonable figure; they\'re real good beasts with the imported Percheron strain strong in them," he said. "It will be a while before they\'re put up, and I\'d be glad if you could ride round and let Flora know what\'s keeping me. I\'d an idea she expected there might be some trouble to-day."

"I\'ll get off; but there\'s a mower yonder I would like. Will you buy it for me, if it goes at a fair price?"

"Certainly," promised Grant. "Tell Flora to give you supper; and if you ride back afterward by the trail, you\'ll meet me and I\'ll let you know about the mower."

George rode away shortly afterward, and Grant waited some time before he secured the team, after rather determined opposition. Finding nobody willing to lead the horses home, he hitched them to the back of his light wagon and set off at a leisurely pace. When he had gone a little distance, he overtook a man plodding along the trail. The fellow stopped when Grant came up.

"Will you give me a lift?" he asked.

The request is seldom refused on the prairie, and Grant pulled up his team.

"Get in," he said. "Where are you going?"

"North," answered the other, as he clambered up. "Looking for a job; left the railroad yesterday and spent the night in a patch of scrub. Heard there was stock in the bluff country; that\'s my line."

Grant glanced at the fellow sharply as he got into the wagon and noticed nothing in his disfavor. His laconic account of himself was borne out by his appearance.

"It\'s quite a way to the first homestead, if you\'re making for the big bluffs," he said. "You had better come along with me and go on in the morning."

"I\'ll be glad," responded the other. "These nights are pretty cold, and my blanket\'s thin."

They drove on, and after a while the stranger glanced at the team hitched behind the vehicle.

"Pretty good beasts," he remarked. "That mare\'s a daisy. Ought to be worth a pile."

"She cost it," Grant told him. "I\'ve just bought her at a sale."

"I heard the boys talking about it when I was getting dinner at the settlement," said the stranger carelessly. "Called the fellow whose place was sold up Langside, I think. There\'s nothing much wrong with the team you\'re driving."

Grant nodded; they were valuable animals, for he was fond of good horses. He was well satisfied with his new purchases and knew that Langside had bought the mare after a profitable haulage contract during the building of a new railroad. His companion\'s flattering opinion made him feel rather amiable toward him.

It was getting near dusk when they entered a strip of broken country, where the ground was sandy and lolled in low ridges and steep hillocks. Here and there small pines on the higher summits stood out black against the glaring crimson light; birches and poplars straggled up some of the slopes; and the trail, which wound through the hollows, was loose and heavy. The moist sand clogged the wheels and the team plodded through it laboriously, until they came to a spot where the melted snow running into a depression had formed a shallow lake. This had dried up, but the soil was very soft and marshy. Grant pulled up and glanced dubiously a............