"I wish we had some of it here," replied Kurt, wistfully, and he waved a
hand at the broad, swelling slopes. The warm breath that blew in from
the wheatlands felt dry and smelled dry.

"You're in for a dry spell?" inquired Anderson, with interest that was
keen, and kindly as well.

"Father says so. And I fear it, too--for he never makes a mistake in
weather or crops."

"A hot, dry spell!... This summer?... Hum!... Boy, do you know that
wheat is the most important thing in the world to-day?"

"You mean on account of the war," replied Kurt. "Yes, I know. But father
doesn't see that. All he sees is--if we have rain we'll have bumper
crops. That big field there would be a record--at war prices.... And he
wouldn't be ruined!"

"Ruined?... Oh, he means I'd close on him.... Hum!... Say, what do you
see in a big wheat yield--if it rains?"

"Mr. Anderson, I'd like to see our debt paid, but I'm thinking most of
wheat for starving peoples. I--I've studied this wheat question. It's
the biggest question in this war."

Kurt had forgotten the girl and was unaware of her eyes bent steadily
upon him. Anderson had roused to the interest of wheat, and to a deeper
study of the young man.

"Say, Dorn, how old are you?" he asked.