ready to help feed a starving world? Can’t you see those wild grass meadows cut up into great square fields of green, can’t you see those slopes all yellow with grain and rippling like water under the autumn winds? It’s not iron—it’s not gold—it’s wheat, man, wheat!”
Hugh leaned forward, thrilling to the fervor of Oscar’s tone. He looked at the wide valley brimming with sunshine and abundant fertility, and thought of what a gift it might offer to famine-stricken France as she cried to America for aid. He drew a long breath.
“It is a wonderful idea, Oscar,” he said. “But can you do it?”
“I will do it,” said Oscar with all his slow Swedish determination sounding in his voice. “I saw it all as I stood and watched a big, black freighter steaming away into the dawn toward—where I wanted to go. I saw that if you serve, you serve, and some other than yourself settles where you are to be the most useful. So I went over to the Land Office and explained what I
