"I am afraid we have our work cut out," he said. "We'll put up the team, and then look round the place and see what needs doing first."
CHAPTER VI
GEORGE GETS TO WORK
It was an oppressive evening, after a day of unusual heat. Edgar sat smoking outside the homestead. He had been busy since six o'clock that morning, and he felt tired and downcast. Massed thunder-clouds brooded over the silent prairie, wheat and grass had faded to dingy green and lifeless gray, and Edgar tried to persuade himself that his moodiness was the effect of the weather. This was partly the case, but he was also suffering from homesickness and a shrinking from what was new and strange.
The wooden house had a dreary, dilapidated look; the weathered, neglected appearance of barns and stables was depressing. It was through a neighboring gap in the fence that Marston's team had brought their lifeless master home; and Edgar had seen enough to realize that the man must have grown slack and nerveless before he had succumbed. The farm had broken down Marston's strength and courage, and now another man, less gifted in many ways, had taken it in charge. Edgar wondered how he would succeed; but in spite of a few misgivings he had confidence in George.
After a while the latter, who had been examining Marston's farming books, came out, looking grave; he had worn a serious air since their arrival.
"There'll have to be a change," he said. "Dick's accounts have given me something to think about. I believe I'm beginning to understand now how his money went."
"I suppose you haven't got the new program cut and dried yet?" Edgar suggested.
George was seldom precipitate.
"No," he answered. "I've a few ideas in my mind."