"Oh, I see!" The old man screwed up his eyes mysteriously. He
was a little dashed by the stranger's noncommunicativeness, but he
soon broke out again.

"I'm one o' Miss Ericson's tenants. Look after one of her
places. I did own the place myself once, but I lost it a while
back, in the bad years just after the World's Fair. Just as well,
too, I say. Lets you out o' payin' taxes. The Ericsons do own
most of the county now. I remember the old preacher's favorite
text used to be, 'To them that hath shall be given.' They've spread
something wonderful--run over this here country like bindweed. But
I ain't one that begretches it to 'em. Folks is entitled to what
they kin git; and they're hustlers. Olaf, he's in the Legislature
now, and a likely man fur Congress. Listen, if that ain't the old
woman comin' now. Want I should stop her?"

Nils shook his head. He heard the deep chug-chug of a motor
vibrating steadily in the clear twilight behind them. The pale
lights of the car swam over the hill, and the old man slapped his
reins and turned clear out of the road, ducking his head at
the first of three angry snorts from behind. The motor was running
at a hot, even speed, and passed without turning an inch from its
course. The driver was a stalwart woman who sat at ease in the
front seat and drove her car bareheaded. She left a cloud of dust
and a trail of gasoline behind her. Her tenant threw back his head
and sneezed.

"Whew! I sometimes say I'd as lief be before Mrs. Ericson
as behind her. She does beat all! Nearly seventy, and never lets