There was also no need for reticence when every farmer in
the district knew all about his affairs, while something urged him to
follow Courthorne's lead.
"Yes," he said quietly. "They are. You see, when I lost my cattle in
the blizzard, I had to sell out or mortgage the place to the hilt, and
during the last two years I haven't made the interest. The loan falls
due in August, and they're going to foreclose on me."
"Then," said Courthorne, "what is keeping you here when the result of
every hour's work you put in will go straight into another man's
pocket?"
Winston smiled a little. "In the first place, I've nowhere else to go,
and there's something in the feeling that one has held on to the end.
Besides, until a few days ago I had a vague hope that by working double
tides, I might get another crop in. Somebody might have advanced me a
little on it because the mortgage only claims the house and land."
Courthorne looked at him curiously. "No. We are not alike," he said.
"There's a slow stubborn devil in you, Winston, and I think I'd be
afraid of you if I ever did you an injury. But go on."
"There's very little more. My team ran away down the ravine, and I had
to put one beast out of its misery. I can't do my plowing with one
horse, and that leaves me stranded for the want of the dollars to buy
another with. It's usually a very little thing that turns the scale,
but now the end has come, I don't know that I'm sorry. I've never had
a good time, you see, and the struggle was slowly crushing the life out
of me.
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