scorn; then gradually that would fade and the lines soften,
until his lips curved in child-like appeal and his eyes
were filled with pleading. Several times he lifted a
hand and gently touched his lips, as if a kiss were a material
thing and would leave tangible evidence of having
been given. After a long time his eyes closed and he
scarcely was unconscious before Belshazzar's cold nose
touched the outstretched hand and the Harvester lifted
and laid it on the dog's head.

``Forgive me, Bel,'' he muttered. ``I never did that.
I wouldn't have hurt you for anything. It happened
before I had time to think.''

They both fell asleep. The clear-cut lines of manly
strength on the face of the Harvester were touched to
tender beauty. He lay smiling softly. Far in the night
he realized the frost-chill and divided the coverlet with
the happy Belshazzar.

The golden dream never came again. There was no
need. It had done its perfect work. The Harvester
awoke the next morning a different man. His face was
youthful and alive with alert anticipation. He began
his work with eager impetuosity, whistling and singing
the while, and he found time to play with and talk to
Belshazzar, until that glad beast almost wagged off his
tail in delight. They breakfasted together and arranged
the rooms with unusual care.