"I suppose Magnus thinks the land has had rest enough these last
two dry seasons," observed Presley. "He has raised no crop to
speak of for two years. The land has had a good rest."

"Ah, yes, that sounds well," Annixter contradicted, unwilling to
be convinced. "In a way, the land's been rested, and then,
again, in a way, it hasn't."

But Presley, scenting an argument, refrained from answering, and
bethought himself of moving on.

"I'm going to leave my wheel here for a while, Buck," he said,
"if you don't mind. I'm going up to the spring, and the road is
rough between here and there."

"Stop in for dinner on your way back," said Annixter. "There'll
be a venison steak. One of the boys got a deer over in the
foothills last week. Out of season, but never mind that. I
can't eat it. This stomach of mine wouldn't digest sweet oil to-
day. Get here about six."

"Well, maybe I will, thank you," said Presley, moving off. "By
the way," he added, "I see your barn is about done."

"You bet," answered Annixter. "In about a fortnight now she'll
be all ready."

"It's a big barn," murmured Presley, glancing around the angle of
the house toward where the great structure stood.