Howwretchedlyfamiliaritallwas!Themirycowyard，withthehollowtrampledoutaroundthehorsetrough，thedisconsolatehensstandingunderthewagonsandsheds，apigwallowingacrossitssty，andforatmospherethedesolate，fallingrain。Itwassofamiliarhefeltapangoftheoldrebelliousdespairwhichseizedhimonsuchdaysinhisboyhood。
Catchingupcourage，hesteppedoutonthegrass，openedthegate，andenteredthebarnyard。Anarrowribbonofturfranaroundthefence，onwhichhecouldwalkbyclingingwithonehandtotheroughboards。Inthiswayheslowlymadehiswayaroundtheperiphery，andcameatlasttotheopenbarndoorwithoutmuchharm。
Itwasadesolateinterior。IntheopenfloorwayGrant，seateduponahalf-bushel，wasmendingaharness。Theoldmanwasholdingthetraceinhishardbrownhands；theboywaslyingonawispofhay。Itwasasmallbarn，andpooratthat。Therewasabadsmell，asofdeadrats，aboutit，andtherainfellthroughtheshingleshereandthere。Totheright，andbelow，thehorsesstood，lookingupwiththeircalmandbeautifuleyes，inwhichthewholescenewasidealized。
Grantlookedupaninstantandthenwentonwithhiswork。
“Didyehwadethrough？“grinnedLewis，exposinghisbrokenteeth。
“No，Ikindercircumambiatedthepond。“HesatdownonthelittletoolboxnearGrant。“Yourbarnisgooddeallikethatin’TheArkansasTraveller。’Needsanewroof，Grant。“Hisvoicehadapleasantsound，fullofthetendernessofthescenethroughwhichhehadjustbeen。“Infact，youneedanewbarn。“
“Ineedagoodmanythingsmore’nI’lleverget，“Grantrepliedshortly。
“Howlongdidyousayyou’dbeenonthisfarm？“
“Threeyearsthisfall。“
“Idon’ts’poseyou’vebeenabletothinkofbuying-Nowholdon，Grant，“hecried，asGrantthrewhisheadback。“ForGod’ssake，don’tgetmadagain!WaittillyouseewhatI’mdrivingat。“
“Idon’tseewhatyou’redrivin’at，andIdon’tcare。
AllIwantyoutodoistoletusalone。Thatoughttobeeasyenoughforyou。“
“Itellyou，Ididn’tgetyourletter。Ididn’tknowyou’dlosttheoldfarm。“Howardwasdeterminednottoquarrel。“Ididn’tsuppose-“
“Youmight’a’cometosee。“
“Well，I’lladmitthat。AllIcansayinexcuseisthatsinceIgottomanagingplaysI’vekeptlookingaheadtomakingabighitandgettingabarrelofmoney-justastheoldminersusedtohopeandwatch。Besides，youdon’tunderstandhowmuchpressurethereisonme。Ahundreddifferentpeoplepullingandhaulingtohavemegohereorgothere，ordothisordothat。Whenitisn’tyachting，it’scanoeing，orHestopped。Hisheartgaveapainfulthrob，andashiverranthroughhim。Againhesawhislife，sorich，sobright，sofree，setoveragainsttheroutinelifeinthelittlelowkitchen，thebarrensittingroom，andthisstillmorehorriblebarn。Whyshouldhisbrothersitthereinwetandgrimyclothingmendingabrokentrace，whileheenjoyedallthelightandcivilizationoftheage？
HelookedatGrant’sfinefigure，hisgreatstrongface；recalledhisdeep，stern，masterfulvoice。“AmIsomuchsuperiortohim？Havenotcircumstancesmademeanddestroyedhim？“
“Grant，forGod’ssake，don’tsittherelikethat!I’lladmitI’vebeennegligentandcareless。Ican’tunderstanditallmyself。Butletmedosomethingforyounow。I’vesenttoNewYorkforfivethousanddollars。I’vegottermsontheoldfarm。LetmeseeyouallbackthereoncemorebeforeIreturn。“
“Idon’twantanyofyourcharity。“
“Itain’tcharity。It’sonlyjusticetoyou。“Herose。“Comenow，let’sgetatanunderstanding，Grant。Ican’tgoonthisway。Ican’tgobacktoNewYorkandleaveyouherelikethis。“
Grantrose，too。“Itellyou，Idon’taskyourhelp。Youcan’tfixthisthingupwithmoney。Ifyou’vegotmorebrains’nIhave，whyit’sallright。Iain’tgotanyrighttotakeanythingthatIdon’tearn。“
“Butyoudon’tgetwhatyoudoearn。Itain’tyourfault。Ibeginteseeitnow。Beingtheoldest，Ihadthebestchance。Iwasgoingtotowntoschoolwhileyouwereplowingandhuskingcorn。OfcourseIthoughtyou’dbegoingsoon，yourself。Ihadthreeyearsthestartofyou。Ifyou’dbeeninmyplace，youmighthavemetamanlikeCooke，youmighthavegonetoNewYorkandhavebeenwhereIam’。
“Well，itcan’tbehelpednow。Sodropit。“
“Butitmustbe!“Howardsaid，pacingabout，hishandsinhiscoatpockets。Granthadstoppedwork，andwasgloomilylookingoutofthedooratapignosinginthemudforstraygrainsofwheatatthegranarydoor：
“GoodGod!Iseeitallnow，“Howardburstoutinanimpassionedtone。“Iwentaheadwithmyeducation，gotmystartinlife，thenFatherdied，andyoutookuphisburdens。Circumstancesmademeandcrushedyou。That’sallthereisaboutthat。Luckmademeandcheatedyou。Itain’tright。“
Hisvoicefaltered。Bothmenwerenowobliviousoftheircompanionsandofthescene。Bothwerethinkingofthedayswhentheybothplannedgreatthingsinthewayofaneducation，twoambitious，dreamfulboys。
“Iusedtothinkofyou，Grant，whenIpulledoutMondaymorninginmybestsuit-costfifteendollarsinthosedays。“Hesmiledalittleattherecollection。“Whileyouinoverallsandanold’wammus’
wasgoingoutintothefieldtoplow，orhuskcorninthemud。Itmademefeeluneasy，but，asIsaid，Ikeptsayingtomyself，’Histurn’llcomeinayearortwo。’Butitdidn’t。“
Hisvoicechoked。Hewalkedtothedoor，stoodamoment，cameback。Hiseyeswerefulloftears。
“Itellyou，oldman，manyatimeinmyboardinghousedowntothecity，whenIthoughtofthejollytimesIwashaving，myhearthurtme。ButIsaid：’It’snousetocry。Bettergoonanddothebestyoucan，andthenhelpthemafterward。There’llonlybeonemoremiserablememberofthefamilyifyoustayathome。’Besides，itseemedrighttometohavefirstchance。ButIneverthoughtyou’dbeshutoff，Grant。IfIhad，Ineverwouldhavegoneon。Come，oldman，Iwantyoutobelievethat。“Hisvoicewasverytendernowandalmosthumble。
“Idon’tknowasIblameyehforthat，How，“saidGrantslowly。ItwasthefirsttimehehadcalledHowardbyhisboyishnickname。
Hisvoicewassofter，too，andhigherinkey。Buthelookedsteadilyaway。
“IwenttoNewYork。Peoplelikedmywork。Iwasverysuccessful，Grant；moresuccessfulthanyourealize。Icouldhavehelpedyouatanytime。There’snouselyingaboutit。AndIoughttohavedoneit；butsomeway-it’snoexcuse，Idon’tmeanitforanexcuse，onlyanexplanation-somewayIgotinwiththeboys。Idon’tmeanIwasadrinkerandallthat。ButIboughtpicturesandkeptahorseandayacht，andofcourseIhadtopaymyshareofallexpeditions，and~oh，what’stheuse!“
Hebrokeoff，turned，andthrewhisopenpalmsouttowardhisbrother，asifthrowingasidethelastattemptatanexcuse。
“Ididneglectyou，andit’sadamnedshame!andIaskyourforgiveness。Come，oldman!“
Heheldouthishand，andGrantslowlyapproachedandtookit。
Therewasalittlesilence。ThenHowardwenton，hisvoicetrembling，thetearsonhisface。
“Iwantyoutoletmehelpyou，oldman。That’sthewaytoforgiveme。Willyou？“
“Yes，ifyoucanhelpme。“
Howardsqueezedhishand。“That’sright，oldman。Nowyoumakemeaboyagain。CourseIcanhelpyou。I’vegotten-“
“Idon’tmeanthat，How。“Grant’svoicewasverygrave。“Moneycan’tgivemeachancenow。“
“Whatdoyoumean？“
“Imeanlifeain’tworthverymuchtome。I’mtoooldtotakeanewstart。I’madeadfailure。I’vecometotheconclusionthatlife’safailureforninety-ninepercentofus。Youcan’thelpmenow。It’stoolate。“
Thetwomenstoodthere，facetoface，handsclasped，theonefair-skinned，full-lipped，handsomeinhisneatsult；theothertragic，somberinhissoftenedmood，hislarge，long，ruggedScotchfacebronzedwithsunandscarredwithwrinklesthathadhistories，likesabercutsonaveteran，therecordofhisbattles。
“Buttheroadsometimespassesarichmeadow，wherethesongso/
larksandbobolinksandblackbirdsaretangled。“
ROBhelduphishands，fromwhichthedoughdependedinraggedstrings。
“Biscuits，“hesaidwithanelaborateworkingofhisjaws，intendedtoconveytheideathattheyweregoingtobespeciallydelicious。
Seagraveslaughed，butdidnotentertheshantydoor。“Howdoyoulikebachingit？“
“Oh，don’tmentionit!“entreatedRob，maulingthedoughagain。
“Comeinan’sitdown。Whyinthundery’standin’outtherefor？“
“Oh，I’dratherbewhereIcanseetheprairie。Greatweather!“
“Im-mense!“
“Howgoesbreaking？“
“Tip-top!Aleettedrynow；butthebullspulltheplowthroughtwoacresaday。How’sthingsinBoomtown？“
“Oh，sameoldgrind。“
“Judgestilllyin’？“
“Stillatit。“
“MajorMullensstillswearin’toit？“
“Youhititlikeamallet。Railroadschemesarethicker’nprairiechickens。You’vegotgrit，Rob。Idon’thaveanythingbutcrackersandsardinesovertomyshanty，andhereyouaremakingsodabiscuit。“
“Ihavet’doit。Couldn’tbreakifIdidn’t。Youeditorsc’ntakethingseasy，layaroundontheprairie，andwatchtheploversandmedderlarks；butwesettlershavegottowork。“
LeavingRobtosputteroverhiscooking，Seagravestookhisslowwayoffdowntowardtheoxengrazinginalittlehollow。Thescenewascharacteristically，wonderfullybeautiful。Itwasaboutfiveo’clockinadayinlateJune，andthelevelplainwasgreenandyellow，andinfiniteinreachasasea；theloweringsunwascastingoveritsdistantswellsafaintimpalpablemist，throughwhichthebreakingteamsontheneighboringclaimsplowednoiselessly，asfiguresinadream。Thewhistleofgophers，thefaint，wailing，flutteringcryofthefallingplover，thewhiroftheswift-wingedprairiepigeon，orthequackofalonelyduck，camethroughtheshimmeringair。Thelark’sinfrequentwhistle，piercinglysweet，brokefromthelongergrassmtheswalesnearby。Nootherclimate，sky，plain，couldproducethesameunnamableweirdcharm。Notreetowave，nograsstorustle；scarcelyasoundofdomesticlife；
onlythefaintmelancholysoughingofthewindintheshortgrass，andthevoicesofthewildthingsoftheprairie