more alert. Always, he had been a hard worker, but now he began
for the first time to take an interest in the scientific aspects
of farming. He subscribed for farm journals and put real thought
into all he did, with results that were gratifying. He grew the
finest crop of wheat for miles around; in the season which
brought others a yield of fifteen or twenty bushels to the acre,
Martin averaged thirty-three, without buying a ton of commercial
fertilizer. His corn was higher than anybody's else; the ears
longer, the stalks juicier, because of his careful, intelligent
cultivating. In the driest season, it resisted the hot winds;
this, he explained, was the result of his knowing how to prepare
his seed bed and when to plant --moisture could be retained if
the soil was handled scientifically. He bought the spoiled
acreage of his neighbors, which he cut up for the silo--as yet
the only one in the county--adding water to help fermentation.
His imported hogs seemed to justify the prices he paid for them,
growing faster and rounder and fatter than any in the surrounding
county. The chinch bugs might bother everyone else, but Martin
seemed to be able to guard against them with fair success. He
took correspondence courses in soils and fertilizers, animal
husbandry and every related subject; kept a steady stream of
letters flowing to and from both Washington and the State
Agricultural College.

Now and then it crossed his mind that with the farm developing
into such an institution it would be more than desirable to pass
it on to one of his own blood, and secretly he was pleased when
Rose told him a baby was coming. A child, a son, might bring with
him a little of what was missing in his marriage with her. She
irritated him more and more, not by what she did but by what she