1914. 
THE R URA1> NEW-YORKER 
966 
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The Land of 
Fulfillment || 
A Story of Homesteading 
nnnmiiiiii By Rose Seelye-Miller 
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CHAPTER VII. 
“We don’t need any liay land with the 
prairie open all Winter Ions—and such 
sleek cattle and horses.” Nate put in 
simply because he wanted to say some- 
thins,'and he knew so little about farming. 
“We’ve got to have a harrow or a 
disk, or something of that kind, and Jim 
says we can use his drill when he doesn’t 
want to use it," Norm suggested thought¬ 
fully. 
“I don’t think that will work,” Nate ob¬ 
jected decidedly, “because you will want to 
seed just the same time Jim does. I thought 
folks just went out with an apronful of 
seed and flung it around promiscuously 
and that was the end of it.” 
“I could broadcast the seed,” Norm 
admitted. “But to think of sowing a 
hundred acres by hand, and then too, they 
say it needs to be drilled in deep, so it 
will not dry out." 
“Lot’s get out our books and our 
spondulix and see if we can’t afford a 
drill.” Nate suggested gaily. The inves¬ 
tigation did not lessen the expenses, nor 
create a larger fund. There was scarce 
enough in the exchequer, to buy the 
other absolutely essential things. But 
the time came, when they could have 
Jim’s drill, and it must be confessed that 
it took both boys to do the first day’s 
seeding, for the glory and the grace of it 
were past resisting. 
“To think that we are seeding virgin 
soil, soil never yet cropped, and probably 
never trod by the foot of a white man, 
until we took possession of it.” Nate ex¬ 
ulted as he strode by Norm’s side, for 
they took turns in driving and in watch¬ 
ing the seeder to see that it poured out 
its slow tide of grain into the rich soil, 
properly. But their delight in sowing 
was of short duration, for Jim needed his 
drill, so Norm decided to begin breaking 
on the other side of the creek. Nate in¬ 
tended to help, when a “land” had been 
struck out, but he was not yet accom¬ 
plished enough to do that himself. Nate 
was standing for a moment in the warm 
Spring sunshine, watching Norm as he 
labored with the oxen, when suddenly 
Norm flung up his hands, and beckoned 
to Nate. The beckoning was followed by 
a shrill whistle, and Nate started for his 
comrade on a swift run. 
“Will you look at this?” Norm said 
wrathfully as Nate approached. “Now 
see me turn a furrow,” and Norm called 
to the oxen sharply, held the plow with 
his whole strength, and strove to strike 
a furrow, but the plow share, slid out 
upon the surface, striking but an inch 
or two of earth, just enough to scratch off 
the thin coating of grass, and revealing 
a subsoil of shale. 
“What’s the matter with the plow?” 
Nate inquired innocently. 
“It isn’t the plow, it’s the land. Did 
you ever see dirt like this?” and Norm 
bent down and lifted a handful of bluish 
looking soil. 
“It doesn’t look much like the other 
breaking,” Nate admitted, lifting up and 
dribbling through his fingers the crumbly 
blue stuff. 
“I knew the banks of the valley were 
slaty, but I never dreamed the whole 
section, was nothing but refuse,” Norm 
said bitterly. 
“Oh, that hundred we broke last Fall 
is the richest, blackest laud you ever 
saw,” Nate comforted. “I suppose we 
can reckon, on having some waste land, 
on such a piece as we own.” 
“I don’t know of anything on the face 
of the earth that will grow on slate,” 
Norm exploded, and turned his plow into 
the land in different places. “This runs 
back at least half way across this side 
of the creek.” 
“Begin on our eastern boundary line 
and see how it is there.” Nate suggested. 
“Maybe we can break a little there for 
flax and corn.” he spoke cheerfully 
enough, but in his soul he felt bitterly 
disappointed. To think that such good- 
looking land should have such a slight 
veneer of soil. 
“If we’d taken the stony land you 
hankered for, it would have been better 
than this, for the stones would have been 
good to build with, but this!” and the 
scorn in Norm’s voice seemed almost 
tangible enough to be seen. 
Everything else was forgotten as the 
two boys went over that part of the 
land. It seemed as though at least half 
of the land filed on oy Nate was of that 
shale-like formation, slightly covered with 
earth. Finally to the far east of the 
land the plow struck home to good soil, 
deep and rich and satisfying. 
“I do wish we had a drill of our own.” 
Nate grumbled that afternoon. “We are 
just about wasting our time, and the old 
settlers say it is the early crop that gets 
the rain, and makes the crop.” lie was 
passing the diminishing heap of buffalo 
bones as he spoke, and he picked up an 
immense skull bone with the horns still 
firmly fixed upon it, too firmly fixed to 
be easily wrenched away, there were half 
a dozen such there that had been dis¬ 
carded when the work of polishing had 
been at its height. “Dry bones and 
shale,” he scorned, but he lifted the buf¬ 
falo skull and carrying it to the shanty, 
fastened it above the door. 
“The bones have been a mighty good 
crop, just the same.” Norm said more 
cheerfully. “Can’t you think of some¬ 
thing to do with the shale?” 
“Oh, I’ll make some pots and pans 
of it, like mud pies, I suppose we could 
slime our buildings over with it for 
warmth, another Winter if we wanted 
to.” 
Followed a three days’ rain, and after 
the rain came the warmest days of the 
Spring. The fourth morning when the 
boys were getting ready to begin break¬ 
ing again, on the remaining good land, 
Nate’s quick eye, espied something pecu¬ 
liar about the acreage already sown to 
wheat. He stared at it and glared at it, 
and then bursting out in a discouraged 
cry, he said, “Norm, look, the grain has 
all gone mouldy, look it’s just white with 
mould ! Is that what they call smut?” 
Both boys dashed towards the sown 
land. Nate bent down and picked a bit 
of fungus. “ Why I never dreamed that 
smut iooked like this, why this is the 
rankest kind of mold I ever saw!” 
Norm selected a larger specimen, and 
looked at it carefully, pulled away the 
whitish film that covered the stem, re¬ 
vealing gills as pink as a mayflower. 
“Mushrooms!” ejaculated Norm triumph¬ 
antly. “We’ll have a change of diet for 
a few days anyway, j^ook at the acre¬ 
age. ” 
“I had an idea,” Nate said skeptically, 
“that mushrooms were manufactured for 
rich folks.” 
“Why I’ve picked ’em by the pailful 
and sold them in town for 25 cents per 
that quantity. We could get a supply of 
groceries with these if we had them 
where they’d sell.” 
Norm gathered a hatful, and Nate did 
likewise, and^ they bore them back to the 
shanty. “We’ll have a feast for din¬ 
ner.” Norm said cheerfully. 
The breaking went well that morning, 
and the two teams were turning over the 
soil rapidly. It seemed like good soil too, 
and both boys felt much more cheerful 
than they had done a few days earlier. 
Norm cooked the mushrooms at noon, and 
the hoys were gorging themselves upon 
their rich delicacy, when a sharp, “Hal¬ 
loo!” broke in upon the meal. 
A surrey full of men stood near the 
open door. 
“We saw a gingham apron on the 
line,” said Mr. Mansfield, from his place 
beside the driver. “And we hoped it 
might mean a dinner—we’re simply fam¬ 
ished.” And he looked inquiringly at 
Nate and Norm, evidently a little disap¬ 
pointed not to see a woman also. 
“The gingham apron, is merely for 
looks," Nate said genially. “It’s a little 
joke of ours, and it does seem sort of 
comforting to folks as they pass, for they 
often think that a woman wears it.” 
“You can have dinner, though,” Norm 
said. “My pal here is the cook, and 
he wears the apron.” 
Both boys began to loosen the tugs and 
unhitch the team, and Nate later went 
into the shack with Mr. Mansfield. 
“Say, could you get me a buffalo skull 
like the one you have over your door? 
I’d be willing to pay well for it. to take 
back to St. Paul as a souvenir.” 
“Why yes.” Nate said cordially, as he 
sliced the bacon thin, “I’m pretty com¬ 
mercial, but I think I can donate one 
skull without impoverishing myself very 
much.” 
Mr. Mansfield smiled a little.” How 
are you fixed for machinery? Everything 
you need to work with?” 
“No we haven’t, we want a grain drill 
the worst way, but—” Here Nate stopped 
confused. “I guess I forgot myself,” he 
added. “We boys baching here, all talk 
our affairs over so freely. I forgot for a 
minute. I might mortgage the land, but 
we found out the other day. that it is 
a large part shale, no good for agricul¬ 
ture—and we don’t want to take a mort¬ 
gage on land that isn’t much good.” Nate 
spoke lamely enough. Mr. Mansfield was 
a hard-headed business man, but he was 
quite taken with Nate’s frankness. 
“I sell machinery, and I’ll sell you a 
drill just as cheap as anybody, and I’ll 
take this buffalo head as a first pay¬ 
ment. I’ll put it up in my office and if 
I find anyone interested—maybe you 
could be induced to part with still an¬ 
other one.” 
“I guess I could find half a dozen, but 
we’ve picked out all the best ones long 
ago. ” 
“I’ll take two now, and you go into 
Wetasket this afternoon, and fetch out 
the drill you want. I’ll take the balance 
of the payment whenever you’re ready to 
pay it,” and Mr. Mansfield scribbled on 
a piece of paper which he handed to 
Nate. 
“I’m afraid this isn’t very good busi¬ 
ness for you,” Nate demurred, but his 
face was shining. 
“It wouldn’t be good business with 
every man. but I think it will be all right 
with a boy, who’s honest enough to ad¬ 
mit that his land is too poor to mort¬ 
gage.” Nate still demurred but he fold¬ 
ed the paper carefully and put it in his 
pocket . 
The simple dinner was ready when the 
other men came in with Norm, and it 
was served upon the hinged shelf without 
apologies. The men ate heartily of the 
bread and bacon, drinking their coffee 
out of tin cups. 
“Real cream,” said Mr. Mansfield. 
“ We’ve got bushels of mushrooms, if 
any of you care for them,” Norm in¬ 
formed hesitatingly. 
“Mushrooms!” cried all of the men, 
and Nate and Norm began peeling the 
fungi rapidly, and meanwhile frying in 
hot butter as they peeled. The men 
seemed well night insatiable, but after a 
time, Mr. Mansfield pushed back from 
the table. 
“You live in effete luxury on the 
plains,” he said. “I’d like to come out 
and stay awhile when the prairie chick¬ 
ens are ripe.” 
“Come,” both boys urged. “There’s 
fine hunting. 
“Are we coming back past here,” Mr. 
Homer inquired of Mr. Mansfield. “If 
we are I want to get a crate of those 
mushrooms to take back to the city with 
me—if the boys have them to spare!” 
“You can have a wagon load,” Norm 
said generously. 
“They are selling in St. Paul for thirty- 
six cents a pound,” Mr. Homer declared 
concisely. “ You could reap a pretty rea¬ 
sonable harvest off your land, if you had 
a market for your mushrooms.” 
“There wouldn’t be any market, and 
we haven’t time anyway to peddle them 
about Wetasket. I’ll fix up some though 
for you to take with you,” Norm said 
decrying the idea of a possible sale. 
(Continued Next Month.) 
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