for Farnam.




CHAPTER VIII

THE BURGLAR


George went away next morning and a few days afterwards Farnam walked
home with his wife and Agatha from a visit to a neighbor's homestead.
When they reached the edge of Farnam's orchard they stopped and looked
about. An extensive clearing had been cut out of the forest, the evening
was clear and cold, and the pines threw long blue shadows on the snow.
The young fruit trees ran back in orderly rows, and a frozen creek that
crossed the orchard was picked out in delicate shades of gray. Farnam
told Agatha that he found the creek useful for irrigation, because he
had known the apples to shrivel on the trees in a dry summer.

At the edge of the bush a group of men were at work. The thud of their
axes jarred on the quietness, and the rattle of a chain rang musically
through the shadows as a teamster threw the links across a log. His
horses stood close by, with a thin cloud of steam rising from their
bodies.

"Lumber worth sawing is getting scarce, and we'll float the best logs
down to the mill when the thaw comes," Farnam said to Agatha. "In the
meantime, we want them off the ground before we clean up the pieces the
boys have slashed. One gets at this kind of work in winter when nothing